Takeout, shmakeout, whispered God, and the next thing I knew, I was biting into a sandwich made from a baguette from the wholesale artisan bakery a mile away; fresh basil grown by the folks who own the fruit and vegetable market around the corner; real prosciutto de Parma; unsulfured dried plum tomatoes; sherry vinegar from Spain and olive oil from Crete; and a ball of mozzarella made an hour before I bought it, still warm when I cut into it.
You’re destroying those of us who are hungry and not within walking distance of ‘real’ food.
Yes, this entry was quite painful to those of us within walking distance only of Safeway.
A ball of fresh mozzarella was already on my list for the farmers market tomorrow, but, but… *wholesale* artisan bakery? and fresh basil in March? Ouch.
I hope that my new neighbors will not take it amiss if I admit that I made myself cry, rereading this. I never got a chance to say goodbye to the Italian deli crew; they went on their annual vacation two weeks before we left, and reopened the morning of our flight to San Jose. Never got our farewell mozzarella.