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Our waitron approached the table with eyes wide, a thin smile and a vague sense of fear about in her face. “This real Chinese food,” was her opening line, delivered with a nodding head that said, “You no like, you leave now.”
[nggallery id=1768]
Our waitron approached the table with eyes wide, a thin smile and a vague sense of fear about in her face. “This real Chinese food,” was her opening line, delivered with a nodding head that said, “You no like, you leave now.”
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Smack dab in the middle of a northeast neighborhood, near the intersection of Gowan and Thom, lies John Mull’s Meats — a butcher shop/game dressing operation that’s been here for decades (since 1954 to be precise).
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So the evening is proceeding quite swimmingly Friday night. We’re ensconced on the second floor of Gordon Ramsay Steak, watching Ramsay work the crowd like a master, chatting everyone up, posing for pictures and stopping by every table — basically charming the pants off the lassies while impressing the lads about what a down-to-earth bloke he is.