I'm a man. Men cook outside. That outdoor grilling is a manly pursuit has long been beyond question. If this wasn't understood, you'd never get grown men to put on those aprons with pictures of dancing weenies on the front, and messages like 'Come 'n' Get It!
Drawn by warm nostalgic feelings for the place and by two sweet little words: "Open Bar."
Kristin Brown looks as though she could have been mailed first-class to New York for about a dollar and a half.
Grown men have been seen fleeing after reading the menu posted outside.
Pressed caviar has the consistency of chilled tar.
New York is a city of conversations overheard, of people at the next restaurant table (micrometers away) checking your watch, of people reading the stories in your newspaper on the subway train.
There is a lovely warmness about feelings of nostalgia as though in one's head one is putting on a pair of comfy old slippers and curling up in front of a fire.
They used to have a fish on the menu that was smoked, grilled and peppered They did everything to this fish but pistol-whip it and dress it in Bermuda shorts.
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