When I was an undergrad, I lived and worked in Philadelphia for a semester as part of an off-campus study program. For breakfast I would sometimes grab a soft pretzel with mustard from the many carts strewn about Center City on my way to work. (I was too timid to tell the vendor that I would only take a fresh one, so sadly sometimes I’d slink away from the cart with a cold, crunchy thing in hand, never to return to that particular stand again.) Once in a while, instead of a pretzel, I’d pick up a breakfast sandwich at the food cart in front of the office building where I was interning, just across the street from Robert Indiana’s famous LOVE sculpture. In true local style, I’d get an egg sandwich, served on a toasted kaiser roll, with that mysterious pork product known as scrapple. I slathered the whole thing with ketchup before heading up to my desk. This article in the Isthums brought back memories of sitting in my cubicle, eating that salty, greasy mess of a sandwich. Oh, to be 21 again! The article made me sorry that I’d missed the Black Earth Meats scrapple when Crema Cafe in Monona served it as a special this summer, but it sure brought back some fond memories.