— lP street food —

 Though the story of Chanticleer and the Fox is an old one, it’s a lesson in humility that is as pertinent as ever. And that we take especially to heart here at Local Pour.

From our name (a play on “local poor” and a salute to the working class), to our decor (pulled from barns, churches, sheds and junkyard around the region), we embody our culture’s humbler foundations. You’ll also find plenty of playfulness and humor in our signs, decorations, and artwork, because such is the spice of everyday life.

Likewise, our menu is inspired by the streets of America. We’ve taken our cue from food carts, food trucks, street hawkers and walk-up windows all around the country, putting our own spin on creations originally dreamed up by people just like you and me. This isn't a place where you come to guess at how to pronounce half of the things on the menu. This is a place where you come to enjoy a fresh twist on culturally rich, gastronomically delightful street foods that Americans are know and love.

To round it all out, our drink menu is both simple and fun, featuring a carefully selected but not overwhelming assortment of beers, spirits and cocktails inspired by our country’s tropical areas. Who doesn’t enjoy a deliciously fruity libation? We are everyday people who like what we like… we’re fun, not fancy, and we aren’t afraid to keep it simple.

—  Chanticleer & the fox  —

Adapted from The Canterbury Tales | Geoffrey Chaucer | c. 1390

There once lived a beautiful rooster named Chanticleer. With his glistening plumage, ruby-red comb and rich, clear voice that rung melodiously across the countryside, Chanticleer was the most handsome of all the farm animals—and he knew it. Proud Chanticleer strutted to and from all day long, followed by his harem of seven hens, with whom he was the prolific of large and tasty eggs.

One day, a fox came to visit the farm. “Oh, Chanticleer,” said the fox, “I have followed the sound of your beautiful voice for miles.” The fox licked his lips. “I came to pay my compliments, and to humbly request you sing a song for me.” Proud Chanticleer, made prouder by the fox’s flattery, stretched his long, beautiful neck as he prepared to sing his very best. Taller Chanticleer grew longer as he stretched his lovely emerald-plumed neck, and…

…was SNATCHED around the throat by the cunning fox!

Chanticleer, flapping frantically in the fox’s jaws as the fox made his escape from the barnyard, saw that it all had been a trap. Suddenly he was struck with an idea. “Oh, fox!” gargled Chanticleer. “Fox, wait! You are a cunning creature indeed—proclaim your victory! Boast of your deeds so that the other animals may tremble!” The fox paused. Chanticleer was right—the fox was in fact very clever, and his capture of the coveted rooster was a feat indeed. He turned back towards the barnyard.

“Hear ye! Hear ye! hollered the fox, dropping Chanticleer to better be heard. “I am the fox, cunningest of all-” And Chanticleer, seizing the opportunity, raced back to the henhouse as fast as his legs could carry him. The fox, realizing he had fallen fool to his very own trick, ceased his bragging, dropped his head and trundled on his way, as the sound of Chanticleer’s crows once again rang across the countryside.