One menu. Cooked once. Served at the table.

It started with a hot stove in McKinney and a dish nobody ordered. The butter chicken, three weeks in, had become the reason people drove out from Plano. Everything else on the menu sat. So we cut it.

By month four we were down to twelve dishes. By year two, six. The waste line on the inventory sheet hit zero. The line cooks stopped sweating Saturday. Reservations doubled.

This year we did the same thing again. One menu. Cooked once. Served the way our grandmothers served it. You sit, we bring it, you eat until you can't.