I am sitting in the kitchen with Mrs Perique, smoking a bowl. She is diligently cooking venison stew. I mean STEW now, fellas, not some contrived politically correct variant. Venison. Bone broth. Fresh picked carrots. Potatoes. Old school thick succulent stew. The kind that'll make you wanna slap your mamma. It's 90 degrees in the kitchen. And I don't care.
Who likes a good stew?
Who likes a good stew?