Hash House’s claim to fame is shocking immoderation. Dishes are laughably immense, piled as high as Jenga games, and the outcome could be just as messy if you attempt to eat all you are served. Everything on the down-home menu, which the restaurant calls “Twisted Farm Food,” sounds like a good idea mostly in retrospect: 1-pound burgers (stuffed with the likes of bacon and cheese, if you dare), towers of fried green tomatoes, a platter of fried chicken and waffles deserving of its own area code. This is destination food. The HH is an import from the casino culture of Vegas, where it began, which makes sense: This is a meal with a high risk-reward ratio, and you can bet there’ll be leftovers.