Last week I was in Philadelphia for my 9-5. But what’s funny about Philly is, even though it’s my hometown city, I barely know about it. I lived on the other side of the *bridge* and crossing that bridge was portrayed as such a big deal, such a hardship, such a production that it almost never occurred. And what my mom said goes, if she didn’t do Philly, we didn’t do Philly.
Of course, I still knew, and benefited from, many of Philly’s culinary offerings.
The soft pretzel. I never knew the soft pretzel was special to Philly. When I was little I thought all cities were filled with pretzel street vendors.
After a very brief google search, and a hunch of my own, it looks like Philly owes its signature snack to the Pennsylvania Dutch. The pretzels here are not dipped in butter and shaped like shoelaces, but have a crust, yet are soft and chewy inside. They do not need mustard. The office where I was working receives a weekly present of pretzels from a previously satisfied client. Pretzels are not just a snack, but a gesture of thanks, good taste and local flare.
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