Forget the so-called dark night of the soul. The real hour of spiritual blackness hits about 11 a.m. on a Sunday after a long night of drinking. That's when the big existential questions hit: Why? How long must suffering be endured? And holy shit, did I really drink/ingest/screw that? Take your broken essence and throbbing head to The Grape, where life affirmation comes in the form of a fried chicken patty covered in cheddar cheese, served on a jalapeño-cheese biscuit that is neither too dry, nor too soft. The Grape may be known best for its burgers, but on a Sunday morning, it's busy doing God's work.