Hey. Happy Friday.
Heard you like fried-chicken sandwiches. Got you some. Cool?
Cool.
See you at Farmboy Kitchen, a nice new deli-style restaurant where incredible in-house things are being done to your lunches, now open in Hollywood. Take a look at the space and the menu.
The chef/owner here grew up raising goats and chickens on his family’s farm in Virginia. Now he’s occupied with corning beef, shaving prime rib and basically just handmaking everything in a superclean space behind floor-to-ceiling windows. It all involves less goat contact.
Lunch is now in full effect. Dinner and breakfast and beer and wine are on their way. So what you’re basically looking at is a nice everyday place. On a stretch that really needs one. Don’t make that face, Yoshinoya.
It’s your spot for top round French dips and fried-chicken/kimchi sandwiches on the patio between voice-over sessions. Your post-gym meatball sub protein station. Your pre-ArcLight refuge for beer-and-coffee-braised brisket chili, lattes and Caesar salads that you’re supposed to eat with your fingers.
Forks have made a mockery of this town for long enough.
Heard you like fried-chicken sandwiches. Got you some. Cool?
Cool.
See you at Farmboy Kitchen, a nice new deli-style restaurant where incredible in-house things are being done to your lunches, now open in Hollywood. Take a look at the space and the menu.
The chef/owner here grew up raising goats and chickens on his family’s farm in Virginia. Now he’s occupied with corning beef, shaving prime rib and basically just handmaking everything in a superclean space behind floor-to-ceiling windows. It all involves less goat contact.
Lunch is now in full effect. Dinner and breakfast and beer and wine are on their way. So what you’re basically looking at is a nice everyday place. On a stretch that really needs one. Don’t make that face, Yoshinoya.
It’s your spot for top round French dips and fried-chicken/kimchi sandwiches on the patio between voice-over sessions. Your post-gym meatball sub protein station. Your pre-ArcLight refuge for beer-and-coffee-braised brisket chili, lattes and Caesar salads that you’re supposed to eat with your fingers.
Forks have made a mockery of this town for long enough.
