I grew up in a place like that where we had neighbourhood shops/cafes/eating places, all almost next door or at a walking distance. They provide the ingredients that make your memories rich and colorful. I have fond memories of the kind of food that I could only get at the corner shop, the barbershop that used to play corny movies while I got a haircut, the very odd place where we could buy coal for cooking AND rent comics. They are fodder for mutual jokes when I catchup with childhood friends.

One only realizes what the writer is talking about when it is part of their experience growing up. You can't universally desire it but only reflect back at what you had and decide how it was for you.