My brother, Bill, drove the 64 droptop over to the Hunter House for photo ops in the early half of the decade of excess. (or, atleast, that’s what one 80’s compilation called it.) Decades of subsequent excess later the airborne grease particulate from hundreds of thousands of pounds of fried beef has secured the restaurant’s legacy and window seals from the four seasons. You can almost smell the kitchen exhaust wafting across Hunter in the spring/fall air. (subject to verification by Bill who will either confirm or deny he wore his trench coat in all weather types.)
Car and Driver’s best-of article circa 1980’s. One can only hope the ‘lovable hillbilly girls behind the counter’ can still be found behind the counter.