One hour due south from Huntington puts them down in Dunlow, almost on the Kentucky border. But even if we didn't know that, his insistance that biscotti gunked up with shitty fatty chocolate is fucking "upscale" or whatever tells you everything you need to know. Hey Merle I done made me some sow-phisticated furreign food! Edited for: autocorrect and banjo sounds. Twangtwangtwang twang twang twang twang twang twaaaaaang