Trophies Still Roam the Restaurant Range, But I’m Not Game
It’s my annual winter visit home in L.A. and we’re braving the dreaded dead heads, again. Yes, several of my family’s favorite restaurants are decorated – and disgraced – with massive, wild animal trophies on their walls. Trophies, indeed.
Now don’t get me wrong. My people aren’t hunters, just valley folks who like meat. My father’s side came from the meat packing industry in Nebraska. My sister-in-law’s kin founded Hoffy, the packagers of those hot dogs sold at the iconic Pink’s and plugged by singer Pat Boone. My …
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