In an old-school diner, brown-red booths and teal, Yellow tiles underfoot, memories to reveal, Seated at the counter, like days of the past, Servers bustling nearby, memories they amass.
No modern screens in sight, a welcome retreat, Ceramic ledges hint at cowboys on repeat, Black-and-white snapshots, the 1950s portrayed, An atmosphere of history, where stories are laid.
Ordering a porterhouse, a steak to behold,
"Go big or go home," a mantra to uphold,
Salad arrives, iceberg lettuce on display,
Homemade dressing shines, in an Oklahoma way.
Taylor, my server, apron pockets packed with care, Pens abound like a badge, ready to be shared, A fleet of female servers, an old-fashioned flair, Echoing a time when dining had a different air.
This diner, a gem, a cornerstone of the town,
A legacy standing, old traditions unwound,
The porterhouse arrives, seasoned just right,
No sauce required, the flavor takes flight.
Tender steak devoured, down to the bone,
Steamed veggies join in, a feast to own,
As I finish, I inquire, my curiosity stirred,
Taylor's insight I seek, like a secret word.
She shares her take, that porterhouse delight, Explaining the cuts, why it's worth the bite, Two steaks in one, a math trick so neat, Quality and quantity meet, making the meal sweet.
Beers and stories flow, in this nostalgic space, Meat and memories blended, each flavor we embrace, Service on point, an experience so fine, Rating it 4.8/5, a place that truly shines.
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