After a short drive, James pulled into the parking lot of Creekhouse Kitchen & Bar. The outside looked comfortable and minimalistic with appealing rustic touches. There was a large grassy patio to one side facing a low stage area. Comfortable looking black lounge chairs were spread out in small groupings around round white tables. On one end, what looked like an old grain silo had been cut and fashioned into the outdoor bar. Even at this late afternoon hour on a Sunday, with no musicians on the stage, the patio was at least half full. They took this as a good sign and hurried inside to escape the hot weather.
The interior was equal parts homey and industrial with pops of color amidst grey metal furnishings. They were sat immediately by a bright faced hostess and given menus. Shortly, a young man arrived with two glasses on a tray. "Hi! I'm Kyle! Just wanted to bring you some ice waters. Can I start you out with any drinks or appetizers today?"
