One of the things I’ve missed most about my hometown (Pittsburgh, for those of you just joining us) since I’ve moved here was the Strip District. No Wayan, it’s not so named because of a preponderance of nudie bars- it’s a long, narrow couple of city blocks in the warehouse district. Train tracks and easy highway access made it the most convenient place for shipments of produce and other foodstuffs to come in and out of the city before being delivered to restaurants and grocery stores. Eventually, the residents caught on and the owners of the warehouses started opening retail space to serve individual customers as well. As a result, there’s a cluster of specialty stores all crammed together- ethnic markets, a butcher shop, a purveyor of gourmet coffee, bakeries, etc. It’s crammed full of people on a Saturday morning, because that’s where you get all the best stuff.
On the list of things it has taken me four years to hear about, by far the most embarrassing is the Capital City Market, which I had to read about in the Washington Post for crying out loud.
I am so there. But I still won’t be able to get a proper sammich without making the trek back home.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs