My roast.

Hey,Dow Jones.

I'm boiling a roast.

It's what people always say when you ask them.

We roast just enough beans for the amount we're going to drink, and grind them in the coffee mill.

Meat, I just love meat

Meat, Hike meat

If I asked all of you, for example, in this room, what you want in a coffee, you know what you'd say?

A butcher deals in meat.

That meat is chicken.

In other words, the beer maker knows also how to evoke flavor from the grains by using sprouting and malting and roasting.

The destination death row, state prison.

Where'd you lift this from?!

Beef?

Here we are meat.

The irony.

Looks like meat, tastes like meat.

What do you like? Dark, rich, hearty roast!

Fresh meat.

By his own blood.

This stuff's for cows.

Eat some meat.

Oh, great, the butcher's.

Dry meat.

Is that the butcher?

You think that's ironic?

A man wooed his lady with steak.

Double irony.

Flesh!

Head down the Phoenix for a roast, veg out in the pub for a bit, then wander home, watch a bit of telly, go to bed.

We had these data a few years ago.

I prefer mutton to beef.

Next order!

Muscle is constantly being used constantly being damaged.

This flesh is only flesh!

The weak are food for the strong.

It's ironic.

Leading the way what's leading the way?

That's what you're seeing here.

Beef, Miss Shirl.

Manflesh.

Hobbit meat.

People saying they're vegetarians but eat chicken.

Kind of ironic!

Paul Momund, the butcher.