There was a time in recent Pennsylvania history where, in order for a bar to be open on Sunday, they had to offer food. The best dives had ham and turkey sandwiches that nobody ever ordered (unless you were PLCB). I know one place that stocked cans of Progresso soup.
The American mind cannot comprehend the idea of a small pub with no kitchen, and that this absolutely slaps when you need something to eat so you can keep drinking after 12 beers