ediblesf:"What Does San Francisco Taste Like?" by John Birdsall


Every time I had salami, Molinari or Gallo or whatever, I felt the fat on my fingers, sensed the sharp smell of time in the curing, the sawdust smell of mold on the casing. I always took the nub end, with its shiny little bull nose-ring it’d hung from—it dangled the possibility of a San Francisco that existed long before I was born…

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