Pans hiss. Knives drum. Orders are called and answered in quick-fire chorus. Flames leap, plates are stacked high, and someone is always shouting for more butter.
And then the room takes over.
Glasses clink. Laughter rolls. Chairs scrape closer. Conversation gathers speed and spills into the corners. Plates are passed, stories retold, opinions offered freely. Someone insists you taste theirs. Someone else orders another round “for the good of the table.”
Made for good company.
