I know a guy who will walk three blocks out of his way—up a beastly downtown hill—to buy his morning coffee at Cherry Street Coffee House. “You like it that much, huh,” I marveled, considering how many other coffee shops he passes to get to it. “Yeah, the coffee’s great, it’s their own blend,” he told me. “But I go because of the people who sell it.”

Cherry Street’s owner Ali Ghambari is known for cultivating an atmosphere of affectionate camaraderie, behind the counter—and consequently, across it. “I can’t explain it,” my friend said. “It’s just a …place that loves you back.” Baristas care and chat. Smiles feel genuine. Customers become regulars, and are greeted like family.

It got me thinking: What other eateries traffic in happiness? Plenty of restaurants are known for good service, but this is distinct from good service; a particular subset called good cheer.

I’m thinking now of a few neighborhood restaurants across town—places like Vios on North Capitol Hill and in Ravenna, or St. Cloud’s in Madrona, or Seattle Pie Company in Magnolia—where warmth is a given and you feel it throughout the restaurant.

Or there’s the really giddy European guy who seats you at Tidbit Bistro , or the woman—super chatty, huge smile, “So nice to see you again!” even if you’ve never been there before—greeting guests at Mandarin Chef. Tilikum Place Cafe exudes a similar welcome, through hosts and servers who exhibit a warm folksy charm.

On the subject of folksy, it’s hard to believe but the Canlis brothers who often man the door of the super high-end Canlis define the term. It’s a classy brand of folksy, but their sincerity comes through loud and clear. Other upscale cheer spreaders include the folks at John Howie Steak, Lecosho, and Marjorie (where the happy-chat among servers and bartenders at the new Capitol Hill location feels, in the words of a recent diner, “warm as Grandma’s kitchen.”)

What do the preceeding four restaurants have in common? Famously kind owners. (Mark and Brian Canlis, John Howie, Matt Janke, and Donna Moodie, respectively.) But interestingly, kind-owner-itis cuts both ways. In 25 years of reviewing restaurants I’ve found that the surliest service often predictably plagues the houses of the nicest restaurateurs—folks so soft-hearted they’re unable to keep a crew in line.

(You want names? No way; today I’m blowing sunshine.)

Finally, some restaurants are so healthy it’s like their staffers occupy a higher plane of existence. Don’t know what I mean? Walk into the enlightened vegetarian Silence-Heart-Nest in Fremont sometime; it’s like being hit by a transcendental train. In a good way. Similarly, Thrive in Ravenna, a raw foods cafe, is staffed by such serene and radiant beings they seem beamed in from a better world.

What happy haunts have I neglected to mention? Anyone?

Anyone?