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No Pork Store Story

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I’m not sure  I can tell you the story of my visit to the pork store at the end of the line. I can not describe the frowny charm of the place — achieving that strange Slavic-masquerading-as-German balance of friendly and dour at the same time. I can not tell you why my companion (the one who found the store) decided to dress like a German country gentleman for the occasion. Or how the men behind the counter perked up only when I started asking about their headcheese. Or the frankfurter story. No, I can’t tell you that.

So instead, I will post a picture each day of the meats I purchased from them.



Written by etinnyo

January 11, 2013 at 9:23 am

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