A LONG LATE MINIMAL breakfast: cappuccinos; toast.
No lunch; just a couple of handfuls of peanuts from the bag we keep in the glove compartment on these driving days.
A quick dinner at a new favorite: a hamburger; French fries. The hamburgers here are local grass-fed beef, not terribly high-fat but succulent; and not too damn big. Cooked with them: grilled sliced onion, a pickle chip or two, a bit of lettuce. Mustard, of course — the catsup's on the table, for them as want it.
The bun is brioche, as it should be, house-made at this joint's sister operation, where we will breakfast tomorrow, as we always do in this town.