To Market: Reading Terminal, Philadelphia

Three things quickly become apparent upon arriving in Philadelphia.

The first is that very few traffic lights have yellow boxes with digital walking men attached to them. Which should not present a problem for any adult who can tell red from green, but is, I admit, nonetheless initially disconcerting — what with one having to make the decision to walk all by oneself, and all ...

The second is that it's amazingly clean. Not a whiff of piss on the streets — a revelation! The soaring 30th Street Station was swept and tidy, with its brass bits shined, and little tables where people could civilly sit and eat, and long, waxed wooden pews for waiting on (which, non sequitur, is exactly the type of train station waiting area where I always imagine Hadley left the suitcase filled with Hemingway's manuscripts).












































Finally, the third thing — which you may even notice first — is that everyone is incredibly nice. Super nice. Nice like they're in on a "Funny Farm" style scheme in which cash money has been promised for each gesture of neighborliness. "Make sure to try the orange juice!" smiled the cab driver, who I asked to drive me to the Reading Market. "It is like nothing I have ever tasted — it is the essence of oranges!"

Later, picking out a few donut peaches — which are called Saturn peaches in these parts — a handsome, outdoorsy man leaned toward me to offer: "You're going to regret buying so few of those."

I didn't say I was just in town for the day and instead asked, "What are you going to do with all of those?" He'd filled a bag to bulging with the squat fruit.

"I'm going to an outdoor music concert and I'm going to pass them out to all my friends," he said, an invitation in his tone.

I walked on, stopped at a lunch counter for some saag paneer, admired enough desserts to make me slightly queasy (to note, the "delights" in the photo directly above: AJ's Pineapple Delight, AJ's Blueberry Delight, Cherry Delight, Ice-Cream Delight...)

Finally back out on the sidewalk and headed toward my appointment, I asked an older gentleman for directions, and several blocks later the young man walking slightly ahead of me turned and pointed out where I needed to turn. I looked at him, confused. "I overhead you back there," he explained.

After taping the radio show* I did a little shoe shopping before heading to the train station, while the salesman — Brian, who is pursuing a Ph.D. in presidential studies — stood three paces behind me at all moments, attentive to all that caught my attention and the prospect of a request.

There was a point at which it occurred to me: Either the entire city is hitting on me, or this is THE NICEST PLACE I HAVE EVER BEEN. I'm pretty sure it was the latter. Although, I did have a genuine Amish farmer lie to me. When I asked if the blue popcorn popped blue, he said that when it popped the underside turned blue. I'll let you study the photo and decide for yourself...

In the end, I left Philadelphia with two Saturn peaches, a deli package of dried shiitakes, a pint basket of green figs, four sticks of sugarcane (definitely not local), a pair of brown wedge-heeled espadrilles, a renewed awe for the Amish capacity for desserts, and a bag of blue popcorn that pops into the whitest shade of white. Which in itself is plenty pretty enough.
























































































*Added to the list of Pennsylvania's nicest people is John Schlimm, author of "The Ultimate Beer Lover's Cookbook," who was waiting in the WHYY lobby with me and who I promise you'll be happy to get an earful of when you tune into our episode of "A Chef's Table." Fingers crossed, it will play Sept. 12. You can bet I'll keep you posted.