Out of Love of this Place

 There’s this strange, makeshift garden/plaza stuck on an over-sized median between Market Street and 30^th Street Station. Huge potted plants, patches of plastic grass with lawn chairs, and bench swings decorate the mini park. Spindly metal chairs and tables provide space for a quick lunch in a semi-green environment.

Around 1:00pm on a Wednesday, most of the chairs were empty. One man sat with take-out Chinese, putting up with the chill in a navy windbreaker. He was about finished with his chicken and rice and “fried fish of some sort,”; it was all just okay.

The man (he preferred that I not use his first name) works for a corporation in an office building behind the train station. He usually eats lunch outdoors and finds himself often alone. “My coworkers eat lunch at their desk,” he said, “which I would never do in my life.”

He’s Italian and has lived in the States for about four years. He finds the lunch culture here different. “There’s no social dynamic at lunch,” he said, shaking his head and leaning forward. “Which for me is the most important part.” In Milan, he would go out with coworkers in the middle of the day. Lunch was an opportunity to take a break, to ‘recharge your batteries.’ “Here, it’s like people filling their cars at the gas station.”

He looks at the buildings around us. “And now the arts,” he says, “They’re looked at as unproductive.” He gestures to 30^th street station’s staggering pillars and intricate façade behind us. “This building makes you happy to look at,” he says. “And this,” he points to the modern, stark office building to his left, “is what you have now. Which is horrible.” He mentions the windowless break room in the office. “It depresses me.”

He suspects that lunch culture is a product of American work culture. In Italy, working for the same corporation, he had seven weeks vacation. Here, many of his coworkers don’t even take breaks, a choice resulting from pressure that he sees as a detriment to productivity. “When we are in front of a screen for ten hours, it is against our nature,” he said, “If you’re tired and stressed, you get nothing done.” Our corporate work culture is dividend derived, a short-sided perspective that causes stressful, work-centric lifestyles.  “It was the opposite that made this country great country,” he said; innovation without a guarantee of return, risk, an attitude of rebellion and an ease of enjoying life, perhaps.

“What I’m saying is not to be negative,” he said, “It is out of love of this place.”

“People used to take breaks and siestas because they had common sense,” he said. “There has been a change in the last fifty years. Everyone is too busy, I can’t even have a casual conversation on the train.”

He likes to get outside, take a half hour to an hour and a half for lunch – depending on his mood and the weather. He often eats at the food trucks near Drexel to be around young people and have conversation. “I like to talk with people because people have ideas,” he said. He speaks fast, using his hands, soft brown eyes attentive. “If we both have one dollar and we exchange them, then we both have one dollar,” he said, “We both have an idea and we exchange them, then we both have two ideas.”

He invites me to join him for an espresso, something he would typically do with coworkers after lunch back home in Italy. He gets up from the table, wrapping up a small package of fried wontons and a fortune cookie, “My kids love these.”

At home his family – wife and three kids – is ‘rigid’ with food. They buy organic when possible, but again, here it is different. In Italy, there are laws banning GMOs and the use of certain pesticides. “Here you have to be educated to buy food,” he said. His wife is a good cook, “That’s how she got me I guess,” he said, smiling. The other night she made spaghetti with clams. Red sauce? He laughs and shakes his head brusquely, “No red sauce, I am from the north of Italy.”

He works to live, not vice versa. The time off he has, he spends with his family. They take trips to Center City and go to “mom and pop shops” for lunch.

“If there is one this that cannot be replaced it is time,” he says, “I tell you, you need to enjoy it. Five minutes that you spend with a person drinking coffee could be the most precious thing you have.”

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I recently received a wonderful and humorous email from above Italian man that I would liked to share (yes, I asked his permission). A little background: We did get espresso together at a small stand in 30th Street Station. We were served the drink in tiny paper cups, prompting me to make a comment about American disposable/to-go culture. We chatted about how uncommon that would be in Italy, and how much more enjoyable it really is to drink out of ceramic or glass. We spotted a few glass cups behind the counter and I suggested that he requested one next time. 
He did, and here's what happened: 

"I am writing you as, after the short conversation we had regarding paper cups and the "to go" culture, I decided I needed to take action - beginning from the espresso-kiosk where we had coffee. The day after our encounter I went to have my daily espresso and I asked the "barista" if I could have it in the small glass cup we saw. After a few seconds - apparently he had to process the unusual request - he asked why; I explained to him that I would enjoy my espresso much more in a glass cup than in a paper one. I always drink my coffee right there so no risk I would run away with it! I quickly realized I was the only one laughing at my joke. The original "barista" was joined by a second one in staring at me - together with an angry executive-looking customer who was obviously mad for this 15-second delay in receiving her order. Other five seconds of blank staring, and both "baristas" moved on with other customers after mumbling "No, no".  So far, Paper cups 1 – Me 0.

Second match took place at a Chick-fil-A. In case you wonder what I was doing there, it is part of a Machiavelian psychological plan to make my children avoid those places when they grow up. Indeed, forbidden things always generate desire in people, as such I bring them to fast foods about once a month just to make sure they don’t think it is some sort of amazing place that it is forbidden to them out of pure evil. This time I was with my youngest daughter. After the meal, I noticed in their menu the picture of a steaming coffee mug; while she was having fun in the playground, I ordered a coffee – in the ceramic mug of course. The girl at the counter had to summon the manager. This is the dialogue:

Manager: “Per safety policy, we can’t pour the coffee directly in your mug. You can pour it after we give it to you”.

Me: “I don’t have a coffee mug, I’ll use one of yours”.

Manager: “We don’t have coffee mugs!”

Me “You show one in the picture over there”

Manager “Oh no, no, that’s just a picture”

Me: “Well, then I think I will have to sue Chick-Fil-A. Ahahah”.

Once again, I was the only one laughing. Paper cups 2 – Me 0. I think for the moment I will call a truce and try to think about a new strategy."

Special Guests

Jahri was surprised when her mom suggested a cheesesteak. “That’s a little heavy for first thing in the morning,” she said.  It was 12:30pm in Reading Terminal Market and instead she opted for a bagel with lox, cream cheese, and tomato. “It’s kinda burnt, but good,” she said as she took the second bite. Over-toasted crumbs and seeds collected on the flimsy metal table.  She likes everything bagels, “They have the most flavor out of all the savory bagels.”

Half a sandwich later her dad, Scott, came back to the table with a cheesesteak from Spataro’s. “I found the place with the longest line,” he said, unwrapping the over foot-long sandwich. “Did you get cheese whiz?” Jahri asked. “I did get cheese whiz, on the recommendation of the cash register,” he said. “It’s mushroom, hot peppers, and cheese whiz.” Jahri leaned over for a bite. “That is not good compared to the famous ones,” she said.

Jahri and her mom, dad, and family friend Linda (“family by choice,” Linda said) were in town last weekend for a wedding. They drove over from Ann Arbor, Michigan on Friday. I asked about the near 12-hour trip.

“Good,” 

“Wasn’t bad,” 

“Awful,”

“A little challenging,” they said over each other.  It rained, they were a bit rushed, and unclear on directions to the restaurant where they were meeting family and friends. They stayed in an Airbnb rental on Letitia Street in Old City. On Saturday afternoon before the ceremony, they hit Reading Terminal for lunch.

Kelly and Linda came back with a Styrofoam takeout box and a pastry bag. They had Pakistani lamb, greens, stewed veggies and rice from Nanee’s Kitchen, plus two samosas; one traditional, one Philly Cheesesteak. “A little greasy, but very good,” Kelly said.

At home in Ann Arbor, Kelly has her own body work business. She packs her lunch almost everyday, usually quinoa, vegetables and greens with an ayurvedic paste for dressing. “I cook it in the morning, and pack it in a thermos that doesn’t ever keep it warm enough,” she said.

Scott has worked for UMTRI (University of Michigan Transportation Research Institute) for 25 years as an industrial engineer. He typically eats lunch at Bush’s grocery store. Maybe chicken salad, a croissant sandwich, or stroganoff from the hot bar, “Just because it’s convenient,” he said.

Jahri is a junior at the University of Michigan, studying biopsychology, cognition and neuroscience. For lunch? “Ummm, I eat a lot of pizza rolls…” She avoids packing a lunch if she can, “Because that means I have to get up earlier.”  Jahri also works at Pizza Bob’s, famous for the Chipati; a salad of lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, cheese, and secret-recipe sauce (“sweet, tangy, and savory all at the same time,”) stuffed into a puffed-up pizza crust pocket. “You cut a slit, take the plate you made the salad on and fold it like a taco,” Jahri said, miming the process over the table. Then you carefully slide the salad into the small opening. It takes a few tries to get it right.

“Mom, can I have some money for ice cream?” A few minutes later, Jahri returned with a scoop of Pralines & Cream from Bassett’s Ice Cream. “Have you had a bite? I want to know if it’s worth the calories,” Linda said, leaning across the table with interest.

Linda works mostly from home as a therapist. “In the morning I just have my puffed rice and some almond milk so by lunch I’m ready for some real food,” she said, looking at me earnestly through her large wire-framed glasses. That means a fried egg, two pieces of toast, some walnuts, maybe half a banana, and kombucha to drink.

“Wow, a fried egg sandwich!” Scott said.

“No, an over easy egg on toast,” she corrected. And lately, “One piece of chocolate about this thin,” she said, making a tiny gap between her thumb and index finger. She also goes to Barnes and Noble most afternoons for a post-lunch chai.

They ate pretty well during their weekend trip to Philly. First stop Friday evening was White Dog Cafe in West Philly. Good food, but pricey, and the service was a bit spotty. They raved about Dmitri’s Mediterranean food on south 3^rd street. “We showed up at their door with 12 people,” Kelly said. The tiny place accommodated them at separate tables. They shared salad, feta and olives, and the seafood combo platter. “Very loud, but worth it,” Linda said.

If a Philadelphian happened to be in Ann Arbor around lunchtime, where should he/she eat? Pizza Bob’s for a Chipati, of course. Also Washtenaw Dairy for ice cream and “The best donuts you have ever tasted,” according to Kelly. She also recommends Katoi for incredibly fresh Thai fusion. Zingerman’s Deli is a classic, along with Fleetwood Diner and Jefferson Market.  

"Well," Scott stretched, "I gotta get a nap in before the ceremony." Jahri got up slowly, Linda adjusted her fanny pack, Kelly packed up the leftovers and they wove their way out of the bustling market.

The full story: Jahri, Kelly and Scott are the first people I’ve interviewed for this blog who are not strangers.

Sunday morning I was browsing for apples and eggs at my favorite farmer’s market in the city (Headhouse on 2^nd between Lombard and Pine). I looked up to see my college roommate’s parents walking towards me. Oh, Kelly and Scott at the farmer’s market, of course! My brain said, remembering the last time I saw them at the market in Ann Arbor. But then I processed it fully…Hold on, but I’m in PHILLY!

Yet another coincidence. I had no idea that they were in town, and we happened to be in the exact same place at the perfect moment Sunday morning. Of course I had to have lunch with them, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to do an interview. It was wonderful to connect with them and have a little Michigan back in my life for a moment.

A Big Fan

 The Urban Outfitter campus cafeteria in the Navy Yard is a stunning place to eat lunch. Amidst the most well dressed in Philadelphia, attempt to choose between eight stations offering build-your-own everything. Urban Shop 453 is an experience; a devastating variety of lunch options arranged by staff with an impeccable eye for design. It will overload your senses.

Island sat at a table alone eating a ham, cheese and spinach croissant sandwich and a side seaweed salad. A few mixed greens and a smidgen of red quinoa dressed the corners of his takeout box. “What I like about sandwiches is it’s more healthy, comes with a salad,” he told me, pushing his flippy black hair to the side. He also likes the spicy chicken sandwich on the grill line. “I’m a big fan of spicy food,” he said, and laughed. “I’m trying not to eat too much pizza because I’m a college student.”

Island is a junior co-op student at Drexel. An aspiring mechanical engineer, he works at Rhoads in the Navy Yard, “looking at designs and structures and how to improve them.” They provide mechanical contracting for ship building and repair services, metal fabrication (manufacturing custom “heavy metal components”) and emergency maintenance. Need shearing, bending, rolling, plasma cutting, welding, or blasting? Rhoads has you covered. “Last week we had a contract with Dr. Pepper…” Island told me, though he wasn’t sure exactly what the project entailed.

Island was born in Hong Kong, lived in Vietnam for two years, and came to South Philly when he was four. He likes to eat out around Center City and in Chinatown. One of his favorites is Sampan, on the pricey side unless you take advantage of the happy hour.  “I usually order their ribs [short rib] that comes with kim chee fried rice,” he said. The dish is three dollars during happy hour – everyday from 4:00-7:00.

Though he is a busy college student, Island does find time to cook. He makes a lot of curry. “Curry Panang, red curry, usually with chicken, peppers and rice,” he said. If he’s packing a lunch he’ll go with something simple like a sandwich.

The intense umami from the seaweed permeated the air around us as he pulled at it with his chopsticks. “I’m a big fan of seaweed salad,” he said. “I’m a big fan of Japanese food in general.” He packed up half of his croissant sandwich for later. “I’m keeping track of my health now that I’m a college student.”

I sense a connection.

A mechanical engineer’s perspective on health: a way to improve the body’s structure and the functioning of its design.

Do Your Mouth a Favor

“I haven’t been this hooked on something since Dunkin Donuts had their chocolate chip croissant.”

Jessica bent over her cream-filled, coffee cake muffin from Wawa. “It’s crispy where it’s supposed to be, mushy where it’s supposed to be, springy where it’s supposed to be,” she said as she assembled the perfect bite on her plastic fork. It appealed to her in the sparkling pastry case at the convenience store. “I’m Servsafe certified so I look at how it’s presented,” she said. She dug her fork into the center to show me the cream. “It’s really delicious,” she said, lifting her shoulders towards her ears. “I can’t help myself.”

It was an early lunch for Jessica, perched on the edge of a stone flower planter near the corner of Broad and Sansom. She usually eats in Dilworth park, but was just too hungry to make it there today. She had her strawberry probiotic yogurt, baby carrots, a diet lemon iced tea, and, of course, the muffin amidst the traffic on one of the busiest sidewalks in the city.

Lunch is a light meal for Jessica, typically fresh fruits, vegetables and yogurt. Soup and tea would be her perfect lunchtime meal. “I’m on this weight kick; I was heavy before and I don’t want to gain it back,” she said. “I’m totally cheating on this muffin.” She insisted I try one. “Oh you oughta girl,” she said.  “You’d be doing your mouth a favor.”

Jessica, wiry with a thin silver nose ring and sharp eyes, has worked in the food service industry for years. She rattles off a list of restaurants and catering companies near Harrisburg where she lived before she moved to Philadelphia three years ago. “I liked McDonalds, actually,” she said. She worked as a manager for five years and appreciated the customer service aspect of the job. Her favorite menu item was the fruit and yogurt parfait. “I’m really into yogurt,” she said, looking over her narrow nose earnestly. She wrapped up half of her muffin and tucked it next to her baby carrots in a plastic bag. “No throwing away muffin,” she said. “No throwing away any food.”

If Jessica could eat out in Philly, she’d cheat with a really greasy cheesesteak. For now, she eats packed lunch in the park, or occasionally at Broad Street Ministry church during their ‘Breaking Bread’ meals.

Three years ago, Jessica left her abusive husband of thirteen years. She lived with her daughter until her daughter’s boyfriend kicked her out. “I stayed homeless until, oooooh, six weeks ago,” she said.

As of last week, Jessica has a bed at a shelter in West Philly. For the six weeks prior, she went to the shelter every night and slept in a chair.

With the aid of intensive outpatient therapy, Jessica will be starting classes next semester at the Community College of Philadelphia and plans to get her masters in psychology. She’d like to work in behavioral health.

“I wanted to start a new life.”

Jessica turns 43 next month. I’m planning to obtain a birthday cake made out of Wawa muffins by then.