This weekend I discovered a fabulous little Italian deli in my neighborhood, and thanks to Di Pascale’s plump meatballs and garlicky gravy, I am finally ready to accept “Charm City” as my home.
When I first made the “big move” two years ago, I drove back to Philly almost every weekend. But, as gas prices started going up, my trips became less and less frequent.
At first, I desperately missed Philadelphia. I missed the way Philadelphia’s pedestrians politely ignore one another when passing on the street. I paid a couple of hefty traffic tickets for turning left on red and nearly caused accidents doing the “south Philly slide” through stop signs in Baltimore. Store clerks glared at me when I refused to engage in small talk. I cringed each time I heard a Baltimorean say “Bawdmore” or “Warsh.” I longed for hoagies with “gabagool” and “prociutt’” on fresh baked bread from Dinardo’s and hand-made “muzzarel” braids from Mancuso’s. Ahhh....
While I still have a special place in my heart for Philly, I think I am finally beginning to “adjust” to my new life in Bmore. I have learned to give a “nod” when I walk past someone on the street and to comment on the weather while the convenient store clerk rings up my purchase. I’ve really begun to appreciate Baltimore’s “small town, regular person” feel, and I love how unpretentious Baltimore’s nightlife scene is. (Even our martini bars aren’t snooty :) And, now that I’ve found Di Pascale’s Italian deli, I feel complete again. Funny how something so simple can make a person feel at home.