Imagine, if you can, you're standing at the 19th hole, sweat drying on your dry-fit polo, the smooth buzz of endless bloody mary's, a case of bud lights, and the cart girl giving you the old side eye for a bigger tip. And as you pull up to hole 19, stretch out your hand to a savory steaming ribeye steak, marbled, and juicing at a medium rare temp, flanked with a mountain of mashed potatoes, and a steam veggie your choice, you slice into the tender steer, putting the perfect period to the end of your sunburn Sunday on the greens.