Quintessentially Hip

It is getting to be the end of the year. A time for cleaning out, clearing up, purging, the old “nothing is sacred”  tour of your house, your mind, your files, your blog, your life. Took a look through my blog drafts and felt the urge to purge, DELETE DELETE DELETE! HOWEVER, the new year is fast approaching and I resolve to exercise self-control. No panic deletes allowed. So, the year in sandwiches is before me, and I will will will finish what I began, beginning not at the beginning, but anywhere that strikes.

Here’s one now, jumping to the top. Taylor Gourmet. Along-for-the-Ride Heidi met me there for lunch way back when in 2009. We lunched. We chatted up the owner. We scrutinized the other patrons and formed opinions at the level of shoes on up. Up to sandwiches, on to the garage door, and Up Up Up to the walls and ceiling. The place reeks of hipness. And I mean that in the best way, bless their hearts.

Open till 3:30 am Thursday, Friday and Saturday. And delivering!

Three Bears Bread – not too hard, not too soft – we liked it, and you will have to try it for yourself. Bread is so personal, the mother’s milk of food. Sarcone’s rolls ride down to Taylor Gourmet everyday – if not everyday, often – from phil, fill, Philly, and burnishes the spot with the patina of authenticity. The authenticity does go deeper than that, too, I promise you.
Clever, DIY wood panelesque walls behind the counter and in the restbathladiesandmensrooms.
Glass-paneled industrial garage door up front.

Good surfaces all about.

Heidi said about a particular pair of dorky shoes, “The youth think that they are retro.”
The sandwiches were, it goes without saying, delish. Had they not been delish,  they would go without mention here. This blog is devoted to good things. What is good, you ask. I will be the judge of that, I answer. Start with, perfect is the enemy of good. Or, to put a Pollyanna spin on it, good is. Good is not the friend of perfection. Good is. Good is not a good. It cannot be bought and sold.

The chairs – we want ’em. The shoes, we’ll take ’em. The wiches – we had ’em!