In my second stint in rehabilitation, thank you very much, I have been to the city proper here and there for my mail, new records, and, of course, tawdry sexual relations. But now, with my return to life rapidly approaching, now I take on my favorite commercial lark – exploring local grocers and their eclectic wares.
Last week, I stopped by the glorioso Feria Latina Supermarket – 1645 S.W. 47th – and all the sweeps therein.
As I walked inside the main entrance to the store, a man with a very professional voice gave updates over the loudspeaker on sales in various aisles of the store, like it was a part of the greatest show on earth, or all least this part of town.
With my basket in hand, my nose took me on a beeline bakery, just as the classic confectionist brought out fresh trays of sweet products, from churros and conchas to orejas and buñuelos. My metal tray was filled with enough pastries to keep me occupied until next winter, with the cashier doing double-duty, taking my sweetest dinero.