Adventures in mildly less provincial Mid-Atlantic-ness

Third trip to Philadelphia since the move, first with the "new" car. The best visit thus far. We started out at the Headhouse Farmers' Market, which turned out to be this, basically. Gorgeous displays of vegetables, and arranged like a Paris market, down a street rather than in a square. But not (too) pseudo-French. One "biologique" vegetable stand, and some cannelés, but mostly the usual. Outdoors, but covered, a plus given the heat.

No market is complete without a fine array of breads and a fluffy lap dog.

Green garlic! (And yes, a "graduate school of arts and sciences" tote bag at a farmers' market.)

Then we had pizza next to the market, at Pizzeria Stella. It was not only the finest pizza we'd had in Philadelphia, but also quite good in its own right. 

After that's a bit of a blur, what with the heat. Potentially violent areas, definitively historic areas, the house where soda was invented, or where the guy who invented soda lived, a bakery very concerned with soda theft (selling the variety they have to open for you, so that you pay first), and losing my sunglasses in a parking lot as we were about to leave the city. (What is it I'm always saying about "investing" in quality items? What I got for not following my own advice.) 

All in all, though, it felt as if we'd all of a sudden discovered that Chicago were a 45 minute (I exaggerate, but slightly) drive from the woods. Not as big or busy a city as New York, but there's much to be said for places where every last street isn't one you've been on at all, or thousands of times as the case may be. (The drawback of going to grad school where you hung out in high school. Astor Place, I know you too well.) Much like the car, it's new to me.