Long ago, I worked as a mercenary cook, often participating in meals feeding hundreds. Roast beef, in those cases, was prepared using many legs of many steers -- not just a part of a muscle, like a housewife would use.
These large hunks of beef were known as "barons," or more accurately, by the muscle components -- in this case, "steamship round" (the top and bottom round, which is the top of the leg), as well as the shank all the way to the hoof.
A "Cafeteria Round" was the same, but without the lower part of the leg. A Cafeteria Round was also known as a Café Round.
Once, I woke from a dream: I dreamt that I was living on a dead-end road, a cul-de-sac, and all the other houses were also occupied by artists. There was a beautiful, communal spirit, and I knew that at this place, resources were shared, and I was happy (I'm a socialist, you see). Kind of like the commune in Richard Brautigan's In Watermelon Sugar.
I looked up, and saw the street sign, which read, "Café Round Road." To run that as a registered business is a lot like living inside a dream.