My grandfather loved cafeterias. Apparently everybody's grandparents do. The Beefcarver has a lot of old fans, for several reasons: Mostly, that giant leg of roast beef where they'll carve you a few slices, and maybe even find some meat with a little pink left in it, if you ask. They'll refill your milk or whatever beverage as often as you ask. Help yourself to the free beet slices and the really powerful horseradish. For just a few bucks the shrimp cocktail is probably the best bargain in town, and I ladle on all the cocktail sauce and horseradish I like. Sadly, the veggies are all rather untasty: the broccoli florets or brussel sprouts boiled to death til they're army green then left to a soggy demise in a tray of hot water. Probably OK if you have trouble chewing. The wholesome young help will politely seat you in the barn-like dining room filled with early Americana. I keep going back every now and then, as I have for decades, when I get a craving for it. I hope it's still here in a few more decades when I really need it.
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