Two very definite “no no’s” I’ve come to terms with yet continue to break on a regular basis. (See the bottom*)
I’m a New Yorker, born in Brooklyn, I understand parking that is — let’s just say — well, there really is no easy way of saying what I really want to say, but probably shouldn’t, so I won’t, begrudgingly. This lot requires air support, as you pull up over an embankment, before you ascertain if you can even enter the reverse, forward, left, right automotive contusions in this haphazard parking gauntlet.
Once inside, four double sided perfectly orderly and well groomed shelves greet you. Most items, as one would expect, revolve around Brazilian cuisine — cooking at home. There is even an aisle dedicated to proper cooking utensils, pots, pans, pressure cookers, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
What really brought the sizzle for the steak to me was definitely the butcher department and just how beautiful all of the meats were. Three rib-eyes and a few links of sausage thrown over my shoulder and I headed to the counter with a bottle of “English sauce”, which I assumed was in the Worcestershire sauce family and was gravely mistaken, I squirted on the below mentioned peculiarity dry-ish mystery meat. That chestnut brown fermented liquid looked so gosh darn familiar–bloody good, Gov..
I’m still not completely sure, yet it was as common enough to them to have it right in your mug, the dark brown dry mystery meat, just left of checkout, in its own glass house and for some reason I began to daydream about how Gob Stoppers might work well right about now, you know, to induce moisture and how much it resembled a round Milky Way but with nuts partially sticking out.
The banner behind the counter where my new pal Louis was working is the Brazilian equivalent of our Western Union, if your wondering.
I macked down darkish meat n grainy sausage looking item in the reach in glass heating machine and used my 5 words of Portuguese on Lou, I’d like to think he was impressed — reality tells me otherwise.
“I got cred yo” I felt like saying. “I worked on 45th street between 5th and 6th, 46th is Little Brazil, I’m down with your Flan brah”. (Manhattan of course) But I decided to keep that little nugget to myself, boy did he miss out.
It’s unfortunate that some locals, those unfortunate few critrers with the culinary palate of a 3rd grader actually shop across the street at Food Lion. Food herecy I say, but I guess you have to actually leave your state at least once in your lives to understand any of this.
Break the chain everyone, support your single store operations, shout it to the mountains –and read my blog where the real ranting takes place. (I like it there — I can do and say whatever pleases me.)
*1. When in an ethnically diverse business, refrain from speaking and continuing such behavior unimpeded — before asking if they speak English. Or get the blank stare which says “what the hell is this tall, long haired maniac saying to me?”
2. Ask permission before shutter-bugging photos with machine gunning repetition. (Hmm I say — perhaps it’s the long hair, bulked size and Merciful Fate tee)
The bottom line is that we are all just buddy buddy after I explain this behavior is to their benefit. I’m tired of explaining, I think I’ll have something printed up, words are 2 precious to me and I don’t like to repeat myself. It’s just a preference..