This hardly needs to be said, but we’ll say it anyway:
TGIF.
This, however, definitely needs to be said: as of this moment, you now live in a world where pork-belly gyros exist.
So, TGPBGE... or something. We’ll figure it out later.
In the meantime: The Peasantry, a stylishly rough-hewn cabin stuffed with upscale comfort fare, is now at your beck and call for all your TGPBGE celebrations.
Okay, on the one hand, yeah: burgers. Wings. Gyros. Hot dogs. Nice, but not really worth interrupting this afternoon’s meeting with the mint-and-agave procurers you’ve hired to create the perfect julep margarita for tomorrow.
On the other hand: the guy behind this place brought you Franks ‘N’ Dawgs. Which means: beef-and-bone-marrow burgers. Duck wings. Baby-octopus-and-chorizo gyros. So definitely worth further investigation.
This is the kind of low-key joint you could swing into with international graffiti superstar Banksy to admire their stenciled murals of farm animals, eat Pigs in the Blanket (housemade chorizo wrapped in puff pastry) and quaff something cold and local (our suggestion: beer).
But that group of French fat-cat investors you’ve been courting... well, they’re going to want frog legs. They’re going to want cognac. They’re going to want to try American barbecue. They’re going to want Cognac BBQ Frog Legs.
So let them eat Cognac BBQ Frog Legs.
TGIF.
This, however, definitely needs to be said: as of this moment, you now live in a world where pork-belly gyros exist.
So, TGPBGE... or something. We’ll figure it out later.
In the meantime: The Peasantry, a stylishly rough-hewn cabin stuffed with upscale comfort fare, is now at your beck and call for all your TGPBGE celebrations.
Okay, on the one hand, yeah: burgers. Wings. Gyros. Hot dogs. Nice, but not really worth interrupting this afternoon’s meeting with the mint-and-agave procurers you’ve hired to create the perfect julep margarita for tomorrow.
On the other hand: the guy behind this place brought you Franks ‘N’ Dawgs. Which means: beef-and-bone-marrow burgers. Duck wings. Baby-octopus-and-chorizo gyros. So definitely worth further investigation.
This is the kind of low-key joint you could swing into with international graffiti superstar Banksy to admire their stenciled murals of farm animals, eat Pigs in the Blanket (housemade chorizo wrapped in puff pastry) and quaff something cold and local (our suggestion: beer).
But that group of French fat-cat investors you’ve been courting... well, they’re going to want frog legs. They’re going to want cognac. They’re going to want to try American barbecue. They’re going to want Cognac BBQ Frog Legs.
So let them eat Cognac BBQ Frog Legs.
