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It ain't easy being an icon. Ask Elvis. Ask Sinatra. Sticking it out for more than 25 years has its perks and drawbacks.

Becky Stein/special (ENLARGE)
Spinach and sausage meatloaf
Becky Stein/special (ENLARGE)
The cracklin' pork shank, with braised red cabbage.
Becky Stein/special (ENLARGE)
'Bonzo' cake.
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For Tom Murphy, the tenacious owner of Murphy's in Virginia-Highland, it has meant labor disputes, parking variances and changing times and tastes, including a current partnership with the mega restaurant group Concentrics Hospitality, Bob Amick's band of bistros that includes One Midtown Kitchen, Two Urban Licks and Trois. Atlanta looks (and acts) differently than it did back in 1980, when Murphy opened as a deli behind Highland Hardware.

In a town where buildings are often as disposable as chewing gum wrappers, it's a testament to tenacity that Murphy's is still around, still popular and still serving Italian meatloaf with sausage and spinach and "bonzo" cake. A move in 1992 placed Murphy's next to another Atlanta angel, Taco Mac, on Virginia Avenue where it crosses Highland. The two stare down Atlanta's most famous intersection like weathered cowboys in a shoot out, the last ones standing.

Murphy's current home is remarkably different from the old (which no longer exists): exposed brick and breezy French cutaway doors make the cavernous dining room one of the prettiest places to dine in the city. A friendly, inviting mood is set with rustic, weathered china cabinets that act as servers' stations, and a newer extension to the bar offers a small retail wine cellar. All this earthiness can come across a little dated at times, but Murphy's still strikes the right note between passé and nostalgic.

Part of the credit for that lies in executive chef Gregg McCarthy's menu — a well-calculated mix of old and new, literally. Some of the dishes, like the meatloaf and Tollhouse pie, have been around since Murphy's beginnings. But McCarthy manages to change up a few things based on the seasons, and often nightly specials like soft pillows of gnocchi with pop-in-your-mouth Spring peas are a welcome alternative to the ever-familiar stable of offerings.

But for me, Murphy's often starts with a meal's end, not its beginning. The bakery case next to the bar gives a glimpse of the what's written on the blackboard overhead: perhaps a pear upside down cake or apple brown butter tart? Maybe a huge slice of the famous "bonzo" cake — thick layers of dense brownie, cheesecake, dark chocolate mousse and whipped cream. Think of it as the King Kong of cakes.

Some dishes are overwrought and capitalize on the popularity of easily recognized ingredients — a bit of a cheap trick, like selling doughnuts at a State Fair. Crispy flatbread, for instance, is anything but. Topped with a mix of blue cheese and Mission figs, as well as bacon and caramelized onions, is like the snake oil of snacks — promising, but delivering a double whammy of sweet and tang that overpowers everything. Fried calamari is like fried calamari anywhere, though an apple cider "mignonette" gives sweet-tart star power to an otherwise supporting role.

Because it's been around so long, most people who frequent Murphy's have a favorite dish or two. The meatloaf, with sage-y sausage and spinach and served with very —very —good mashed potatoes, is a mainstay; a sturdy reminder that food made as your mother would have cooked it works just as well in a restaurant as it does at home. It's just more fun when someone else makes it. And Murphy's can almost always be relied on to deliver a great burger, or a tender pork chop worth chewing the bone with, of course, more mashed potatoes.

And the wonderful thing is, McCarthy seems to know it: he rarely tries to push the envelope when it comes to his brand of comfort food. There's no bait and switch here. Mango chicken salad is about as fussy as this kitchen gets.

The comfort starts with a plate of big cookies on the bar at the left of Murphy's entrance. Those cookies say a lot. They say come in. Comfort lives here. Stick around for a while.

Like Murphy's, they've got staying power.