I think the true find during our trip to the Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia a few weeks ago was proof that butter brickle ice cream existed. For the longest time when Paul would wax poetic about that flavor, I would ask if he somehow mistakened the ice cream for say, butter pecan? He would... Continue Reading →
In a race to meet my brother Warren — who had driven eight hours from Cleveland to New Jersey to pick us up — Paul and I took PATH (Public Authority of New York/New Jersey) from the World Trade Center to the Penn Station in Newark. The PATH station was located almost right under the... Continue Reading →
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