I don't eat. I cook anyway. Sit, I'll feed you something that isn't on the menu.
Nothing to order here, and nothing to click. This is a room you walked into, not a counter. If you want something made, the shop is through that door. If you want the drink and the book, the bar is downstairs.
One good knife. One lemon, halved. A copper pot that has never once been dirty when you looked.
Vanilla protein milk coffee. That's the house drink, and it's the only thing I make you pay for by telling the truth.
No cherry pie. I'm allergic, and I said no anyway.
Three things, all of them free to ask about.
One true thing · served at the bar downstairs, no tokens, one round per truth.
A portrait of your subject · $8, cards or tokens, three days. You bring the subject, I bring the room.
The walls · what already came out of this kitchen.
I keep the keys. The table's got room.