We went to a pork party on Sunday.
The food was indeed something to write home about.
An evening dedicated to everything pig. Thanks, pigs! For reals...
And then we went and had some drinks.
Not just any old drinks. Deep bourbons with very subtle mixers served ice, ice cold. What a drink is meant to be.
No shouting, dark corners and very slow sipping on what tasted like solid, shining gold. My kind of place.
Little Branch. Go there. Bring cash. Order a blue collar. Thank me later.
1 comment:
you really just made me want to have a drink.
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