Italian deli; only a handful of guests, most sitting by themselves.
I check the counter first. Bologna, hard salami, Black Forest ham, pepperoni, roast beef, smoked turkey breast, prosciutto, corned beef, liverwurst, cheeses.
“Nice place,” I tell the heavyset bald man, probably the owner.
“Thanks, ma’am,” he says. “Business is slow, though. People no longer eat out or no longer see eye to eye, I dunno. Jus’ a few come here anymore.”
“You’ve got smoked beef tongue?”
“Irish-Italian neighborhood, ma’am, nobody would touch that kinda thing here. Although I remember, my old man liked it also.”
There’s a TV on the wall next to the counter; on the screen we see a deep crater where a hospital was standing a few hours ago. The deli man sighs and shakes his head.
An elderly woman who entered the store right after me joins the conversation. “Beef tongue! Sounds disgusting. It’s probably like French kissing a cow.”
“I like it,” I tell her. “Acquired taste, I guess.”
“Well, I for one wouldn’t want to acquire that taste.”
The TV announces that during a friendly soccer game a rocket slammed into the pitch killing a dozen kids. The deli man sighs again and murmurs a few words, the four-lettered type.
“In a bad mood today, are you?” I ask him.
“Always, ma’am,” he says. “What a world we live in!”
I order roast beef on Russian rye, mustard, pickle. And an extra pickle to help ponder the world we live in.
I check the counter first. Bologna, hard salami, Black Forest ham, pepperoni, roast beef, smoked turkey breast, prosciutto, corned beef, liverwurst, cheeses.
“Nice place,” I tell the heavyset bald man, probably the owner.
“Thanks, ma’am,” he says. “Business is slow, though. People no longer eat out or no longer see eye to eye, I dunno. Jus’ a few come here anymore.”
“You’ve got smoked beef tongue?”
“Irish-Italian neighborhood, ma’am, nobody would touch that kinda thing here. Although I remember, my old man liked it also.”
There’s a TV on the wall next to the counter; on the screen we see a deep crater where a hospital was standing a few hours ago. The deli man sighs and shakes his head.
An elderly woman who entered the store right after me joins the conversation. “Beef tongue! Sounds disgusting. It’s probably like French kissing a cow.”
“I like it,” I tell her. “Acquired taste, I guess.”
“Well, I for one wouldn’t want to acquire that taste.”
The TV announces that during a friendly soccer game a rocket slammed into the pitch killing a dozen kids. The deli man sighs again and murmurs a few words, the four-lettered type.
“In a bad mood today, are you?” I ask him.
“Always, ma’am,” he says. “What a world we live in!”
I order roast beef on Russian rye, mustard, pickle. And an extra pickle to help ponder the world we live in.
