Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

One of the best things about New York is the food signs. I love the happy pig carrying a sausage outside this charcuterie, like pigs think a butcher shop is just the best fun they've ever had. I guess our equivalent would be a picture of a jolly fat guy with a human head tucked under one arm and a nice juicy haunch in the other.

Don't get me wrong, any one of the organic, grass fed meat sandwiches this place is selling would put a smile on my mug:

I also love the sheer bragadaccio that goes on here:


...hotdogs that rival filet mignon, hamburgers better than steak. Although Paul's, in the second photo, might very well have earned the right to blather: They do have the juiciest and plushest burger I've ever tasted, on the squishiest bun, with the crunchiest, sourest pickles floating in a metal vat on every table. I haven't tried the dogs yet at PapayaKing, where the first photo was taken, but they're supposed to be fab.

After the jump, beer for your health

...yet another reason NYC is my home away from home. And then there's the simply inexplicable, like this thing, outside a Japanese restaurant:

...like something out of a Miyazaki nightmare (anime fans, feel free to jump in here with an explication because I am clueless...)

Tomorrow I'll post a few words about the farmer's market at Union Square, where we found, among other things, RIPE gooseberries (they're red, and sweet, unlike those absurd green sourballs we bought at Whole Foods a few weeks ago).

-- Gail Shepherd

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