A homely midwestern couple approached, she a confused regard attached to a tear shaped body, him a taciturn lump. From behind the deli counter I exclaim my usual "Hello!"
"So here's the thing," she says, mercifully disposing with any pleasantries, "we went to Italy not long ago..."
"Oh that's wonderful!" I say.
"Yeah, well, when we were about to leave, everybody else was stuffing their bags full of Eye-talian food... sausages and cheese, you know... but I said to myself, why should I waste all that space in my baggage when I can get good Eye-talian food at Russo's?"
"Uh, ahem, well, yes..." I'm afraid I did a poor job of masking my shock/incredulity.
"So I'm lookin' to get some Eye-talian salami from Idilly that I can give to my daughter."
"That's going to be a problem." I'm not going to lie for what they pay me. Russo's carries no imported salami, only the American, nitrate-filled kind. Probably because of regulations. Also, no one in Grand Rapids is going to care.
Honestly the closest thing we have to European-style dried sausage comes from San Fransisco. It's pretty good, but for the sake of fuck, it has nothing to do with what you could get in Italy, you dumb cow!
It was painful. Russo's has a few good Italian cheeses albeit, and the imported prosciutto di Parma is nothing to sneeze at, but... how can you... what the... ugh!
"I guess we should've stuffed our bags with food too," she summarized, after my pained explanations.
"Well," I said, "what's done is done. Next time."
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