If you are really into that kind of stuff, I can recommend a place, if you ever get to Medford, Oregon. Don't ask me about the food, though; I can't say anything about it.
By the time the cold, grey "coffee" arrived, the smell of burning grease emminating from the kitchen was quickly quelling our appetites.
We didn't stick around to see if the dinner would live up to this advance billing.
The shame of it was, the same family was still running it; we had eaten there in the past. We didn't know 'grandpa', the honcho & chef, had died since we had last been there; found that out later.
So Grandpa was being recycled along with the grounds...?