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Today I wandered over to a place I'd never been inside, the old market at 7th and Massachusetts. Such negligence borders on criminal behavior in these parts. The market, at 134 years old, is a neighborhood institution. I am sometimes slow to catch on to such things.

I wandered past rows of fresh-baked rugalach and pig's feet, headed straight to the back where destiny awaited me: The Market Lunch.

The Market Lunch is old-school eats. Crab cakes, baked beans, deep-fried stuff. I tried to go sensible, asked for a chicken sandwich, but it was late afternoon and the inventory of "healthy" stuff had run dry. So I ordered a cheeseburger. It was a burger straight out of a different era, moist and greasy and served on a bun so pasty white it made Wonder bread look like stone-ground wheat.

It was delicious.

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Market Lunch
June 2005