Visiting the Reading Terminal Market was far and away the best part of our trip to Philadelphia earlier this month, mostly because food is the one thing we will always, always, always treat ourselves to, especially when trying something new.
I have vague memories of visiting the Market when I was younger. My dad’s family is from the Philadelphia area, and is remember visiting the city right after my uncle moved from the suburbs into one of the densely-packed brownstone townhouse neighborhoods that span block after square block. My memory of this first visit is faint and consisted mostly of younger, shorter Ellie looking up at a lot of things; it’s basically a haze of sensory overload. That same sensory overload hit me again after walking into the Reading Terminal Market with Brian over a decade later. We didn’t know where to begin, and wound up eating three full meals before our two-or-so hour trip was over.
Of the three mornings we had in Philadelphia, we spent two at the market stuffing our faces. It was lovely to wake up in the morning and take a brisk 20-minute walk to the market for fresh doughnuts made by Amish bakers (the best doughnuts either of us have ever had), cheese steaks, brisket and locally-brewed beer.
Now if only we had one of these in the Pioneer Valley…