I'm still reeling from the sight of his two 95-gallon steamers, where he whips up soups, gravies, sauces, and his popular chili. I make that one of my selections. Turkey salad, he says. They love his turkey salad. That's an answer I'd expect at the Woman's Industrial Exchange, not here.
Bishop spoons it up, then tops it with raw chopped onion and hot sauce.
Heartburn, here I come. Nick, a gentleman of the old school, doesn't want me to pay. We discuss it and work out a compromise, then shake hands all around. Bishop says I can come back anytime, and I carry my lunch out to my car. The chili is great.