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beamjockeyAbout a year ago, we were visiting my brother and his wife, and walking through New York, window-shopping on our way to somewhere. Suddenly I stopped. I'd spotted a delicatessen with a sumptuous display of various foods in its window. "Wait!" I said.
My family were puzzled, but they are used to eccentric behavior by now. I was pulling out my cellphone camera. They sighed. "Why?"
"This is Greenwich Village!" I said. "Jack Kerouac may have eaten here! Or Allen Ginsberg! Or William S. Burroughs!"
Right there in the window were something I'd always heard about:
The legendary Beets of Greenwich Village.
My family were puzzled, but they are used to eccentric behavior by now. I was pulling out my cellphone camera. They sighed. "Why?"
"This is Greenwich Village!" I said. "Jack Kerouac may have eaten here! Or Allen Ginsberg! Or William S. Burroughs!"
Right there in the window were something I'd always heard about:
The legendary Beets of Greenwich Village.
