Chic restaurants allow for seating to look upon the cooking process. Don't be fooled. Originating…read morefrom the joys of watching food vendors toil, fine dining establishments have soiled a pure art. Forget your twenty-course conveyor belt, this guy is the show to watch.
People herald London cab drivers for their pinnacle mental fortitude in memorizing "The Knowledge." John, whatever young man you've fashioned who worked the night of June 6th has a fortress upstairs. Keeping tabs of sizzling meats and crisping buns is a craft that few champion. Speaking for the common man, we thank these veterans.
After watching this beautiful dance of culinary creation, it was my time to order. Spurned along by the suggestions of a trio my rear, it had to be the hotdog ristet. Adorned with a medley of pickled and chopped goods and one small personal addition of hot sauce, it was a sight to behold.
No environment can better host the enjoyment of John's than the station steps itself. Sat amidst the cigarette butts, I had a moment of youth. To be covered in sauce and without worry. Bad day or good day, end it here folks, as life itself awaits.