What's that? Why am I taking pictures of a supermarket? And I live in Manhattan? Well this is not just any supermarket. This is Fairway by 77St, a Manhattan institution. I have not given it the attention that it deserves because I am usually lured away by Zabars, the Mecca of gourmet foods that is just a few blocks away. I was lured here by a quest for rye flour. This is a substance that is simply unavailable in the tip of Manhattan where I live where the population is mostly Dominican. They like things made from weird tropical tubers and no doubt feel satisfied with it. I occasionally need rye bread like that made in the remote Saxon village where I was born. Bread that has no air bubbles at all. Bread that is so dense that it will break your toes should you be so unfortunate to drop it. Bread that is the ideal accompanyment to slices of raw bacon or spread with goosefat. Bread that would be wellcome and delicious to the gods (well, the Northern gods anyway, like Loki and Thor). Try feeding some Dominican tuber bread to Thor and you will find your head caved in by Mjolnir.
Fairway came to my attention by a newspaper article about it's rabid following among shoppers. They do not sell styrofoam like bread in plastic bags but artisanal loaves that are a beauty to behold. Purple Peruvian Potatoes with purple flesh. Aged sardines. Endless varieties of cheeses, olive oils, balsamic vinegars, caviars, etc. You pick your own olives out of tubs. If you think these olives are the same species as the bland things packed in pasteurized jars found in other supermarkets, you are sadly mistaken. How about Yak cheese from Tibet? And it does not come pre-sliced. None of their cheeses do. There is even a charming cafe on the second floor. The entire second floor is devoted to organic foods.
Before I could finish taking pictures, I was stopped by management. Taking pictures is against their policy,
Out of towners, eat your hearts out.
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