Monday, 10 May 2010

What Is "Ethnic" Food?




Steak vs. Fried Goat Udders - Which one seems more ethnic?

What is ethnic food? Is it anything foreign? America prides itself on its cultural diversity. This melting pot of…well, melting pots, is home to almost every type of cuisine on the planet. Yet how is it that we have a limited ideal of “American” foods as burgers, pizza and hot dogs. Or maybe for the more liberal, American food is anything that is fatty, salty or too sweet.
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Burger from The Counter - pretty safely not ethnic

The term “ethnic food” is ambiguous. We tend to have a good idea of the foods on either polar extremes of the line. Despite the cultural origins on many of our favorite foods, some of them are unabashedly American now—French fries, steak, and apple pie come to mind. On the other side, foods associated with exotic locales like Thai or Ethiopian are pretty clearly ethnic. Problems occur on the line as America assimilates more and more into its mainstream cuisine. Do people consider Italian food ethnic? Maybe if you were eating sweet corn agnolotti, but spaghetti with meat sauce is about as American as it gets.

More perplexing is whether soul food is considered “ethnic.” Some aspects of soul food are reflexively American like mac ‘n’ cheese or fried chicken, but what about chitterlings and pigs’ feet? Classifying soul food faces the uncomfortable question of whether being American means being white. But for many Americans, especially away from the Deep South, soul food is just as foreign as pad thai.


Polish Pierogi

What about food that is undoubtedly white but just never made it big in America? Polish pierogi are just rare enough to be ethnic, but kielbasas are as common as tailgate parties. Would you therefore say that Polish food is ethnic?

Of course there are also those who describe ethnic when they really mean authentic. And by authentic, they mean non-Americanized. I could take a friend out for Chinese food and depending on what we ordered, you could say it was both ethnic and not. Sweet and sour pork, eggrolls, and chow mein just don’t seem that foreign for most of America these days. Tacos might bring to mind images of haciendas and senoritas, but burritos resonate with gas station microwaves and Taco Bells.

More likely, we associate American food to cooking styles. Barbecue is an American institution. Grilling, also very American. We tend to like fire, and lots of it. And of course, only in American will you find deep fried Coke and KFC Double Downs.

Or is it something inherent in the culture of the food that makes it American. Do we associate ourselves with cowboy independence and self-subsistence? Maybe we identify ourselves as the big beef eaters, preferably wrapped in bacon. Unfortunately, for some, being American is about being bigoted and self-righteous, in which case, “Hello, Freedom Fries!”

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Tuesday, 27 April 2010

Miracle Fruit Flavor Tripping Party

Last week I helped throw a flavor tripping party for Gastronomy Society. We purchased Miracle Fruit Tablets online since we were expecting a big group and the fresh fruit would have been cumbersome and expensive. With a list of tasting recommendations, I went shopping for sours, bitter, and spicy foods. This was my first experience with miracle fruit and I wanted to get a variety of flavors.

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I first read about the wonders of miracle fruit in a New York Times article last year. It occurred to me that the best way to experience the sensory-altering Synsepalum dulcificum would be in a party setting. It's not like I'm going to finish lemons and jars of pickles on my own. A shopping list of sour foods isn't all that practical in large amounts. In fact, going through checkout at the grocery was an odd experience itself. I got a weird look from the cashier when I paid for lemons, limes, grapefruits, olives, pickles, salt and vinegar chips, wasabi peas, sour patch kids, and a bottle of balsamic vinegar.

Miracle fruit gets its unique properties from a glycoprotein called miraculin; yes that's seriously what it's called. Though the actual mechanism does not seem to be fully understood, miraculin binds with flavor receptors on the tongue so that these receptors respond to tart acids as well as sweetness. The effect is that formerly sour foods become sweet and formerly sweet foods can become overly cloying. Miracle fruit had grown in West Africa for some time, and had even been floated as a sugar substitute for diabetic and dieters in the 1970s. Unfortunately, a last minute change by the FDA shelved the widespread introduction in the US.

The tablet I had tasted vaguely like raisins. I couldn't tell if that was the flavor the fruit was supposed to have or if it was an additive. The trick is to let the pill dissolve on your tongue. I had quite a few people coming back to me to ask for more tablets because they chewed and swallowed the first one. With my tongue sufficiently activated with miraculin, I picked up a plate of enough acidic foods to wear away the enamel on my teeth.

I started with the pickle. Not much of an effect. I intentionally avoided sweet pickles and bought dill slices in hopes that the fruit would do its work. Sour Patch Kids lose much of their appeal when they are just Sweet Patch Kids. Wasabi peas were easy to just pop into your mouth and forget about. The pill probably tapered off some of the harshness of the wasabi, but it still tasted about the same. Salt and vinegar chips were oddly sweet. Not sure they were quite as satisfying without the sourness. I didn't bother with the cheap balsamic. People told me it tasted like bad wine. I have a bottle of seven-year aged balsamic from Italy that's sweet enough by itself to drink from a glass. I didn't need a miracle for that to be delicious (especially on strawberries and vanilla ice cream)

The best foods to eat with the miracle fruit effects were the citruses. Lemons, limes, grapefruits, I could just bite into the slices like oranges. The bitterness of grapefruit wore away, the main reason I avoided pamplemousse before. The lemon and lime, stripped of their acidity, expressed their unique flavors more readily. It was an opportunity to appreciate the lemon and lime for more than the juice, in the same way the zest gives you those essential oils without the mouth puckering. Too often lemon-lime flavors are conflated in artificial flavorings. They're really not the same. Stripping away the juice gives them them the chance to express their inner fruitiness.

The party wrapped up since our keg of Guinness couldn't be tapped. Did you know Guinness kegs require special taps? Keep that in mind if you ever order one. About an hour after most people left, the store brought us a few cases of bottled Guinness. At this point it was mostly just the Gastronomy Society board that remained. We celebrated with the dark beer, which combined with the miracle fruit, was creamy like a milkshake and much smoother to drink. This was the last event of a year of chocolate and cheese tastings, movie nights, taco trips, dumpling crawls and Indian buffets. I'm taking event suggestions for next year now, and miracle fruit party is on the top of the list.

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Monday, 5 April 2010

Fatty Crab on the Upper West Side


The dim red bulb lit up walls of retro pornography while a speaker played out the familiar ping and pong of a distant table tennis match. This was the oddest bathroom I've been in. I was locked in the unisex bathroom trying to wash my hands of the thick red sambal for the third time. But the hearty smell of crustacean wasn't coming off. Alas, I walk back to my table just in time for the check and a delightful dish of complimentary mochi cake dessert.

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The crunchy crust and the jelly interior of the cake was pleasant, maybe not pleasant enough to offset the $48 for a dungeness crab. Before I made my reservation, I had set a price goal for myself at $30. I wasn't going to order the chili crab if it was more than that. When the waiter came around, I asked him for the market price and got my meal chilling quote. Sounds a bit high, what the range? Maybe I could justify ordering it if it was usually around $50. Nope. $48 was the highest they've ever charged. I glanced down through the small plates and the entrees. Short rib rendang, watermelon pickle and crispy pork, fatty duck? I briefly considered each of these alternatives, but each time my mind went back to the chili crab. How could I come to Fatty Crab and not order their signature dish? How could I give it an adequate review without it?


Fatty Dog - XO sausage, pickled chili, radish, aioli

I started with the Fatty Dog appetizer/small plate. A completely forgettable dish, I would've been as satisfied with a $5 hot dog than a $13 Fatty Dog. There was a certain sweetness component that was missing from the dog that would've kicked it up a little more towards its price. For a restaurant of supposedly spicy and flavorful dishes, the dog lacked any Southeast Asian vigor.


Chili Crab - crab, chili sauce, white toast

The namesake dish came to the table. Crab, chili sauce, and white toast? The ingredient list on the menu was deceptively simple. The chili sauce could be composed of dozens of ingredients itself. I've been eating crab since I was a kid. I'd proclaim myself a crab eating expert after the countless family meals we'd have gathered around a lazy Susan at various Chinese seafood restaurants around the Bay Area. I could dissect and consume the shelled 8-legged creature faster than some people carve up a crab cake. And being from San Francisco, dungeness was my crab of choice.

I cracked through a leg, plenty of flavor on the shell, but too little penetration into the meat. This normally wouldn't be too big a problem if the crab was fresh, as the sweetness of the meat would be more than sufficient. However, this crab had been frozen a bit too long (as if any freezing was okay). The restaurant could have cracked the shells slightly to allow the aroma to permeate. The best part of the dish was the pool of sauce at the bottom of the bowl ready to be sopped up by the toast or the coconut rice I ordered on the side. Still, I'll save my money for a plane ticket back home, when I can eat crab fresh off the dock. I have high standards for crab and I refuse to compromise.

Fatty Crab
fattycrab.com
2170 Broadway
Upper West Side, NY 10024
(212)496-CRAB

Another location:
643 Hudson St
West Village, NY 10014
(212)352-3592

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Friday, 2 April 2010

Tasting with La Maison du Chocolat


With boutique locations in Paris, New York, Cannes, London, Tokyo and Hong Kong, La Maison du Chocolat don't mess around. Master chocolatier Robert Linxe's philosophy is that everyone should have one piece of exquisite chocolate a day. I'm not sure if he meant that everyone should have at least one piece, but certainly one of La Maison du Chocolat's ganaches would keep you satisfied for a week in this Hersey permeated world. Good chocolate, just like good cheese, wine or other victuals is an indulgence going forward. Once you take that step into the hard stuff, you can't go back the same.

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I had the opportunity to taste four chocolates from this fancy boutique through an event hosted by the Columbia Gastronomy Society. Manager Anca Niculescu walked us through the chocolate making process to inculcate an appreciation for the four morsels in front of us.


Cocoa butter, cocoa nibs, cocoa beans

We dissected the cocoa bean, which come in cacao pods. Inside each bean are tiny cocoa nibs that are ground into chocolate liquor. The liquor is then separated into cocoa powder and cocoa butter.


Cracked open bean with all its cocoa goodness falling out

The manager emphasized that La Maison du Chocolat used the highest quality cacao pods, the Criollo variety, whereas typical industrial chocolate makers utilized the more common Forastero. This differentiation didn't mean much to me as someone outside of the industry, but the fact that they could claim this exclusivity meant something in itself. What stuck with me was the manager's description of the shelf-life of good chocolate. Most of her ganaches lasted about four weeks, and she added that you should be skeptical of chocolates that have unnaturally long shelf-lives. Another useful tip, if the chocolate leaves a filmy feeling in your mouth, it could be an indication that the maker used vegetable oil as a replacement for cocoa butter. Chocolate is best kept in the climate of a wine cellar. Never freeze chocolate.


Grain dentelle - milk chocolate praliné with slivers of crispy waffle

I had always been a fan of chocolate pralines and I urge anyone who spots a gold box of Goldkenn Swiss pralines to treat herself. The tasting started with this milk chocolate exhibition of textures. The chocolate started dense in the middle and opened outwards with an airy crispness to thin waffle layer at the top. The lightest chocolate came first and each piece was progressively darker.



Micaëla - Milk chocolate mousse infused with pure Kenyan Arabica coffee

This was our first infusion. A mousse, whipped ganache creating a playful levity. A hint of caramel that comes from the chocolate beans themselves and not from any added ingredient. The coffee depth. The beans are steeped in cream, brought to a rolling boil, before being mixed with the chocolate.



Andalousie - Dark chocolate ganache infused with lemon zest

Just a sniff and you'll get the citrus right away. Real fruits always taste better than their chemical counterparts. Just like there is a distinct difference between lemon juice and lemon zest, you can feel a concentration of oils in this chocolate. This was one of the denser chocolates in terms of texture. Just look at the picture of the black hole of cocoa.



Chiberta - Dark chocolate mousse infused with orange and lemon zest

Somewhat like a combination of the second and third chocolates, I expected the flavor to be similar too. Actually, I've never been particularly fond of orange chocolates, but given the experience with the lemon zest ganache, I figured the orange would be delicious. In fact, the orange was distinctively different from the lemon. More than just being sweeter, less tart, there was actually an essence of orange like the difference between a San Pellegrino Limonta and Aranciata.


With those four, I think I'm set on chocolate for a week at least. But what's the future hold? I anticipate that I'll be stopping into one of La Maison du Chocolat's three boutiques from time to time to keep up my fancy chocolate cravings. They hold two hour tasting for $70, a terrific special occasion gift.

La Maison du Chocolat
lamaisonduchocolate.com
1018 Madison Ave
Manhattan, NY 10075
(212) 744-7117

30 Rockefeller Center,
Manhattan, NY 10020
(212) 265-9404

63 Wall St
Manhattan, NY 10005
(212) 952-1123

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Friday, 26 March 2010

Lunch at the Park: Eleven Madison Park


After hearing for months about the fantastic experiences had by many of my friends at Eleven Madison Park, I finally got an excuse to go when my friend Mattatouille came to NYC. It started with Sam raving about his new favorite restaurant EMP when we met up at Di Fara for pizza in the summer. I kept seeing EMP all over his twitter feed and couldn't figure out what it stood for. Then came Fiona and Danny. I couldn't take it anymore. I just had to try it myself.

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Matt and I decided to come for lunch. Though Chef Daniel Humm offered a gourmand six-course tasting menu for lunch ($68), we opted for the three-course prix fixe ($42). There was also a two-course ($28) available. We picked two each from the five first-course, four second-course, and seven third-course dishes. In usual blogger fashion, we split each dish for a sample of each.

Bread and Amuse


Gougeres

Bacon baguette and rosemary bread


Foie gras green apple macaron and celery root panna cotta

The starters came out and we were off and running. I have never tried a savory macaron, and I was quite looking forward to this little morsel. Having missed out on New York's Macaron day last week, this was going to be my chance to make up for it. Apparently several bakeries got together in an effort to push macarons as the next cupcake gave out free samples. By the time I made it to Bouchon Bakery, they had ran out. While I liked the sweetness and texture of the pastry, the apple dominated and I didn't get much foie flavor at all. I would've preferred either more foie and less apple, or simply for them to serve it as a mignardises rather than an amuse. The touch of truffle on the panna cotta added a nice earthy balance, but otherwise, too small to be memorable.

First Course


Butternut squash velouté with Hawaiian blue prawns and maitake mushrooms

The first dish was an introduction to what Chef Humm could do with mushrooms. Commonly known as "chicken-of-the-woods" mushrooms, I could see where maitakes got that odd moniker. It was meaty in a sense, but much more flavorful than to compare to chicken. It soaked up the velvety velouté and each bite released more and more of that milky butternut squash. There was a dearth of prawn; I only noticed that little piece near the bottom. The dish would've benefited from more shrimp flavor, and maybe less of a curry overtone.


Balik salmon with pommes dauphine, frisée and crème fraîche

While the velouté favored a tightly knit plate composition, the salmon spread out playfully. Both presentations benefit in making a small amount of food seem larger than it really is. Balik salmon is a lightly smoked Norwegian salmon, which paired nicely with the frisée (otherwise known as curly endive). The smoked sliced topped pommes dauphine, mashed potatoes mixed with choux pastry and fried, giving a whimsical presentation. My favorite component of this plate was the salmon tartare in the center with a perfectly precise amount of lemon and roe.

Second Course


Spaetzle with Niman Ranch pork belly, pommery mustard and spinach

This was not the first time I've seen pork belly paired with spaetzle. I wonder if its a common German dish. I felt this dish to be a little on the salty side. In fact, the spatezle reminded me of a fancy macaroni and cheese. Oddly enough, the pork wasn't overly salted. I enjoyed the pickled mustard seeds adorning the slab of meat, almost like a string of caviar. The spinach helped cut through the heaviness of the spaetzle. Again, you can notice the integration of more mushrooms, possibly maitake.


Fregola sarda with veal sweetbreads, hedgehog mushrooms and fine herbes

Sweetbreads always remind me of chicken nuggets. That might make it sound like sweetbreads are repulsive. The very opposite actually, I love chicken nuggets. But most of the time I have sweetbreads, they are deep fried and breaded. It's hard not to make the comparison. Besides, you'd be much more turned off if you knew what sweetbreads actually were. This was my first experience with fregola sarda, a Sardinian toasted round pasta similar in texture to orzo. They served a similar function in this sweetbreads dish as the spaetzle did with the pork belly. They added substance to balance out the petite meat on top. I was amazed that the sweetbreads managed to stay crispy even when surrounded by a moat of sauce.

Third Course


Bouillabaisse of black bass, bouchot mussels, manila clams and chorizo

I must have had it before, but I couldn't remember the last time I had bouillabaisse. The flavor of this one stuck with me throughout the day. Unlike the velouté, which coated your mouth but then washed away with a sip of water, the fiery bouillabaisse grabbed me and didn't let go. Just look at that shimmering black bass; the fish was perfect. Though the menu listed manila clams, I believe they were ultimately substituted by bay scallops. Not that I complained, the scallops were delectable and I think clams would've been redundant with the mussels.


St. Canut Farm cochon de lait with rubarb, spring onion and ice wine vinegar

I did a little research. St. Canut Farm is a French-Canadian farm in Quebec specializing in milk-fed piglets. Milk-fed young pork--you'd imagine it would be quite tender. This dish consisted of two pieces: the loin and the belly. The loin was unfortunately overcooked. It lost much of its ability to retain juices. A pity considering how delicious the jus was. In fact, I could only eat the loin when it was heavily doused in jus. The belly on the other hand--magnificent.



Since most people come to Eleven Madison Park for dinner, I thought I would get a unique perspective trying them for lunch. I got great pictures. The dining room with its high ceilings, private dining space upstairs, and Miles Davis playing on loop had a great old feel. High windows also gave me terrific lighting for some of these pictures. And I still lug around my ten pound point-and-shoot. For something this large, I might as well go SLR. Each of the dishes I had were thoughtfully conceived and most were outstanding hits. I questioned the execution of a few, such as the cochon and the pork belly. A little too long under the salamander here, a little heavy handed on the salt there. Perhaps their dinner would be completely free from these relatively minor blemishes. I'll be sure to tell you when I return.

Eleven Madison Park
elevenmadisonpark.com
11 Madison Avenue, Madison Square Park, 10010
(212) 889-0905

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Thursday, 11 March 2010

"I Want to Send Your More Jerky!"


"I Want to Send Your More Jerky!" The subject line in my inbox caught my eye. Surprisingly, it didn't go straight to spam with a subject title like that. But no, this wasn't an advertisement for fake Rolexes or male enhancement pills, Jerky.com was launching a new product and wanted to send me a sample.

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I had previously received dried pineapple jerky from Jerky.com before, but didn't have a chance to try the beef jerky or their turkey jerky products. Actually, the Exotic Jerky Pack caught my eye in my first encounter with the website. I'm always a fan of game; buffalo, venison, ostrich, and alligator certainly fit the bill.

This time, Jerky.com offered to send me their new sweet and spicy orange and mango jerkies pictured above. I opened the bag and was hit by a wave of comforting meaty aroma (Is it bad to indulge in the smell of dried meat?). I preferred the orange flavor to the mango. The orange was much more subtle, with just a lingering citrus complement. It hit the beefy craving that manifested with that first whiff from the bag. The mango jerky had a much stronger spicy kick and was fruitier in composition. Fruity certainly, but I wasn't getting mango. If there was mango flavor, it was blocked out by the spice and the beef.


Mango on the left, orange on the right

I glanced at the ingredients list for the jerky and found some familiar items--beef, soy sauce, mirin, balsamic vinegar, wocestershire sauce, molasses, anchovy puree, liquid smoke, and orange and mango respectively. Since the brand touts its premium ingredients I wanted to check myself for anything extremely foreign. No glaring science experiment preservatives, which is a good sign when you're looking at something that should be naturally preserved.

Check out the site! Looks like they even have free shipping. And with a domain name like that, you can bet they know what they're doing.

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Friday, 19 February 2010

Philly Cheesesteak Showdown: Geno's Steaks vs. Pat's King of Steaks


(photo credit: Craig)

What better way to celebrate the birthdays of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln than with a cheesesteak taste comparison? Last weekend, I traveled by bus to a very unsunny Philadelphia for the authentic experience.

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Pat's and Geno's have been cross-street rivals since the 60s. I'm sure there are loyal fans on either side of the match-up, but to a tourist in Philly, they appear equally well-patronized. Luckily, the lines move fast. Geno's looks like the Las Vegas version of a cheesesteak purveyor. Apparently, all the neon signs light up at night, drawing both hungry Philadelphians and moths alike. I could do without the glare and glamor, but it doesn't detract too much from the restaurant. What is more of a detractor though, is the severely xenophobic atmosphere. Under the guide of patriotism, the sign in the window says, "This is America, When Ordering Speak English." Four years after Congress renamed its cafeteria sides, Geno's still serves "Freedom Fries."

Pat's on the other hand, has a much more understated confidence in its exterior. The Pepsi sponsored signs are a bit of an eyesore, especially when the PEPSI logo is almost as large as "Pat's Steaks." I got the sense the Pat's was resting on its laurels as the birthplace of the Philly steak sandwich. A sign displayed in the rear warned me not to "eat a misteak." Both eateries consisted entirely of outdoor seating, though the kitchens looked more than ample for what they served. Both places had two ordering windows, one for sandwiches and one for drinks and sides. Both had the aggressive ordering style. Make sure you know how to order and have cash in hand by the time you get up to the window. Name the cheese (whiz is more "authentic", provolone, American) and either "wit" onions or "wit-out." In this expedited method, a Cheese Whiz steak sandwich can be procured with no more than two words--"whiz wit."

Pat's claim to fame is that the original founders, Pat and Henry Olivieri, were credited with inventing the steak sandwich. According to Pat's, the brothers ran a modest hot dog stand near the present location since 1930. One day, they procured some chopped steak from the nearby Italian Market and fried it on the hot dog grill with some onions. Placed a top an Amoroso bread roll, the Philly steak sandwich was born. The history of the cheese becomes much foggier. Even the Pat's website is unclear, "As the years passed, both employees and customers alike demanded change...cheese was added." Nonetheless, the most common cheesesteak is topped with Cheese Whiz, though Geno's might actually prefer sharp provolone.


Pat's Contender

Geno's Contestant

Now for the taste test. It had to be the same sandwich of course, so I opted for the standard "whiz wit" from both restaurants. Same bread, same slather of yellow mess, onions all the same, the sandwiches are fairly indistinguishable. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I detected a hint of peppers in the Pat's sandwich that was absent from Geno's. But the real distinction lay in the steak. Pat's, following tradition, chops its steak, while Geno's serves it sliced. This seemingly minor difference actually might have been the crucial factor. The Pat's steak was simply...dry. Sigh, an overcooked steak destroys the sandwich no matter how much cheese product is deposited on top. The taste test victory goes to Geno's.

A note on the prejudiced signs at Geno's. While this type of behavior does disturb me, I didn't experience any overt discrimination that would be enough to deter me from ordering a sandwich. I won't go as far to boycott the place for their close-minded viewpoint, but it certainly is a negative point in Geno's column. Still doesn't beat a good cheesesteak though.

While the sandwiches are good, I'd argue that neither Pat's nor Geno's is unique to Philly. There are plenty of places outside of the city that serve excellent sandwiches. They might not be authentic, and I'm sure I'll have dissenters, but these places can go toe-to-toe with homegrown talent. For one, Jersey Mike's makes delicious cheesesteaks that are much more accessible. Oh, and if you're in the neighborhood and not feeling like cheesesteaks (though I can't imagine why) there's a banh mi shop right next door to Pat's.

Pat'sGeno's
Year Opened1930*1966
SteakChoppedSliced
Cost of Cheesesteak$7.50$8.25
Websitepatskingofsteaks.comgenosteaks.com








They are literally across the street from one another at E. Passyunk Avenue and S. 9th Street.

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