Chitlins

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

985

Abstract

d a deli with enough empty spaces out front to park a tractor-trailer — a rarity anywhere in NYC. I parked my rig, turned on my 4 way flashers, and walked towards the door.When I walked through the door I saw the deli was full of things I’d never heard of, much less seen or eaten. As I looked around a big, middle age Italian looking man behind the counter stuffing sausages shouted, “What do you want?” The Italian looking woman behind the counter smiled then focused her attention on what she was doing.“Let me look around a minute,” I answered, “to figure out what I want.”“Hey,” he shouted, “you’re from down south, let me guess, South Carolina?”“North Carolina,” I answered.“Carolina,” he laughed. “I knew it. Hey Carolina, do yous guys eat chitlins? I know people in South Carolina eat chitlins.”“Yes,” I answered, “I’ve ate chitlins.”“You hear that,” he shou

Options

ted pointing my way, “Carolina eats chitlins.” And with that most of the people inside started laughing.”“What are you doing?” I asked.“I’m stuffing sausages,” he laughed. “You hear that. South Carolina has never seen anyone stuffing sausages.” The whole room started laughing again.With a straight face I looked at him and said, “Oh I’ve seen people stuff sausages, just not inside chitlins.” And with that his entire face turned red as everyone in the room started laughing at him.“What can I get you?” the woman behind the counter laughed. “Anything you want, on the house. I’ve warned my husband about picking on strangers.”I ordered a sandwich with salami, baloney, and spicy mustard, but if the deli had served fried chitlins I might have given them a try.<a href="https://readmedium.com/the-lunch-thief-f1410d01f67b">Continued in The Lunch Thief</a></article></body>

“Carolina,” he laughed. “I knew it. Hey Carolina, do yous guys eat chitlins? I know people in South Carolina eat chitlins.”

It was circa 1980 when I made my first trip to Brooklyn, NY. I had driven there in the middle of the night only to get into a fight before finally getting unloaded a little before eleven the next morning. I was hungry as I hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours. I only traveled a few blocks before I spotted a deli with enough empty spaces out front to park a tractor-trailer — a rarity anywhere in NYC. I parked my rig, turned on my 4 way flashers, and walked towards the door.

When I walked through the door I saw the deli was full of things I’d never heard of, much less seen or eaten. As I looked around a big, middle age Italian looking man behind the counter stuffing sausages shouted, “What do you want?” The Italian looking woman behind the counter smiled then focused her attention on what she was doing.

“Let me look around a minute,” I answered, “to figure out what I want.”

“Hey,” he shouted, “you’re from down south, let me guess, South Carolina?”

“North Carolina,” I answered.

“Carolina,” he laughed. “I knew it. Hey Carolina, do yous guys eat chitlins? I know people in South Carolina eat chitlins.”

“Yes,” I answered, “I’ve ate chitlins.”

“You hear that,” he shouted pointing my way, “Carolina eats chitlins.” And with that most of the people inside started laughing.”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m stuffing sausages,” he laughed. “You hear that. South Carolina has never seen anyone stuffing sausages.” The whole room started laughing again.

With a straight face I looked at him and said, “Oh I’ve seen people stuff sausages, just not inside chitlins.” And with that his entire face turned red as everyone in the room started laughing at him.

“What can I get you?” the woman behind the counter laughed. “Anything you want, on the house. I’ve warned my husband about picking on strangers.”

I ordered a sandwich with salami, baloney, and spicy mustard, but if the deli had served fried chitlins I might have given them a try.