The sign is a lie, there's no grill. Don't worry, once you've been inside you won't want them to be serving food. There did seem to be a kitchenette at one time, complete with a tiny countertop deep fryer that surely came from Walmart. The space cleverly now doubles as the janitorial closet.
It's the diviest of dive bars. The bartender doesn't know how to make a ceasar, she's only made it once and "that was a long time ago". She doesn't know her beer list, which isn't all that surprising given that she barely knows English. Which is odd, because the incredibly sketchy clientele certainly do. Don't bring a ladyfriend.