Ah, Philadelphia. The birthplace of our nation, the home of self-evident truths, the city of Brotherly Love.
And Sisterly Love.
Philly is a city in transition, yet it still manages to nod to its history on every block.
Even the subway gets into the spirit of ’76.
Acts of goodwill towards men were apparent on every corner.
And the streets made me feel at home.
Everyone was so friendly in Philly. This guy at the Mütter Museum was a little too friendly.
Speaking of parasites, the food was great. We ate roasted pork sandwiches at DiNic’s.
And sipped autumn-colored cocktails at the delightful Supper.
But forget the cheesesteak. What you want to eat in Philly is Capogiro Gelato. Featured here: creamy mascarpone and an astounding Concord grape. I think our founding fathers would approve.
