51 Lincoln
butter your tins, they once clucked; you, impish moppet, would use lard instead
Lüke
flurry of spoons, like angelic vultures of want (cake, the devil’s work)
Harmon’s BBQ
crusty, smoky veil; slow seduction, quickly bit tooth to nail to bone
Square Burger
sadly, ev’ry great sandwich must come to an end… oh HEEEY, fried pickle!
East Coast Grill
grits good enough for the best britches among us (no banana jokes)
cmliu 