Fusion of Food and Conversation

As a New York Giant fan I had not much use for Philadel- phians—the Eagle fans born of rowdiness at best and pure hostile rudeness at worst. But if you go to Philly and mention you are from Tennessee, well they just about roll out the red carpet. Charles the bellhop at the Hilton Garden Inn gave me a warm embrace at curbside when he learned this was my first overnight trip into The City of Brotherly Love.

I thought I might do a little site seeing around the city. It had been a warm January day when I made plans to visit and attend StricklySail at the Philadelphia Convention Center. But true winter dropped in fast. The Jeep was still covered in ice when I reached the city—a five hour drive from Saratoga Springs. It was 6 above with a "feels like" temperature of minus 10. The back hatch to the Jeep froze shut, requiring an ice pick and hair dryer to free the hatch. After loading the Jeep, I went back inside to warm up with a cup of tea. By the time I shoved off, I had to thaw the latch again. Dad told me to take the hair dryer.

It was warmer (not by much, but warmer) in Pennsylvania, but I could not bring myself to go see the Liberty Bell. The aquarium sounded interesting until I realized it was in Camden, NJ and unlike George Washington I really did not have a burning desire to cross the Delaware River.
So my taste of Philly occurred at The Market on Market Street, specifically on the corner where Tommy DiNics, John Yi Fish Market, Martin’s quality meats and sausages and Mezze Mediterranean bring together a collection of regulars and locals mixed with tourist and conventioneers in a fusion of food and conversation.

At DiNic’s conversations across the cream and maroon ceramic tile bar exchanged opinions on the weather and local news, gossip about friends and no-good sons of bitches, and ailments maligning mothers and lazy cousins. Customers dressed in white shirts and ties conversed with those dressed in khaki and topsiders. Behind the counter Tommy served up advice while his staff donned in maroon aprons prepared the house specialties of roast pork, roast beef, Italian sausage and scallopne, a thin cutlet pounded and floured.

It was all business at the sparkling clean glass case displaying John Yi’s scallops, squid and mountain trout. The neon sign “Eat Fish Live Longer” gleamed above on the glass curvature that separated the fillet and flounder from customers, but allowed passer-bys to inspect the neatly presented fish.

Enter a train of preschoolers decked out in toboggans and jackets. With little mittens dangling from their sleeves each ran their hands against the cool smooth glass surface as they trooped pass the case. “Who needs to go to the bathroom?” A chorus of little voices raised up, “I do.” As they paraded off, one little munchkin pointed toward a bronze casting and announced, “A cow.” Spotting the statue the teacher corrected, “That’s a pig.”

When in Philly, eat local. I ordered a steak and cheese with onion rings from Rick’s.

StrictlySailing

It’s all about sailing. You want it, need it, see it, touch it, smell it, got to have or dream it. It is here.

Quit dreaming and do it.

Photo: by Eric J. Gana. To purchase visit Philly Pictures