Thursday, February 4, 2016

"Want to go along to Philadelphia?"

It was The Yard Man's spur-of-the-moment phone invitation to me this afternoon.  He was heading east to a certain small cafe in the city, planning to give them information on his food co-operative.

"Well, it would have been nice to anticipate the trip," I responded, "But, yes!  Thank goodness I have no appointments of any kind.  I'll be ready when you get here!" 

A half-hour later we were on our way through the sunny afternoon, heading straight toward rush-hour traffic.  What luck was ours, there were more of those drivers interested in leaving the city than entering!
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We got to the cafe in good time, and I tried to avert my eyes from the tempting bakery display.  "We're going to a really great restaurant for dinner," the Yard Man had informed me.  "Kensington Quarters! It's a place that sells our milk and cheese. And, they've got a butcher shop right in the restaurant. Remember that woman at the Eat It retreat last year?" 

Well, Reader Dear, I did remember that female butcher, Heather, and when we finally reached the restaurant (after several other stops, and much wandering around the city) she greeted us warmly!
The Yard Man is a bit of a celebrity at this eating establishment, demonstrated by the fact that a lovely plate of cold meats was brought to our table, compliments of the chef.  This was followed by a complimentary basket of assorted breaded-and-fried root vegetables!  "Alas, I won't be able to eat a bite of the dish I ordered!" I moaned to The Yard Man. 

As you may well suppose, Dear Reader, it should have been of no concern.  The food was so exquisitely delicious that we raved, and then ordered dessert.  The staff kindly  packaged up all the fabulous leftovers for us to carry along home.

But our time at the restaurant was not ended yet!  "Why don't you pop upstairs and see Heather demonstrating butchering to a class of culinary arts teachers?"
one of Heather's assistants suggested.

And that's how we got in on another highlight of our evening!

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The poor pig knew nothing about it, but that poultry-cutting class, and conversing with the fellow observers, was the perfect (pork butt) ending to our Philadelphia evening!

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