The Spoil from Philly

I didn’t get to have scrapple for breakfast when I visited Lansdale, just outside of Philadelphia, last week.  Instead, I went one better.  On my way out of town, I stopped at the local Genuardi’s and picked up a package of scrapple and two packages of Tastykakes, one package of butterscotch krimpets and one of jelly krimpets.  If you’ve never lived in the Philly area, or traveled there, you’ve most likely never had scrapple OR Tastykakes.  That means you’ve never really lived.  Sorry about your bad luck.

You can get a Philly cheesesteak anywhere in the world, and while you’ll get arguments as to its authenticity, they’re pretty much the same wherever you go.  Granted, the best can only be found in downtown Philadelphia or any Lee’s Hoagie House, but still, not a huge difference.  In fact, after taking my father downtown Philly for a genuine “Jim’s” cheesesteak, he unequivocally stated he liked Arby’s better, which obviously didn’t win him any points.

But cheesesteaks aren’t scrapple.  As far as I know, you can only get scrapple in that one corner of the state of Pennsylvania (and immediate vicinity).  Just don’t look at the ingredients and you’ll be fine.

And then, there’s the Tastykakes.  Sorry Hostess, but stacked up against a real Tastykake, you’re just a twinkie.

Now, I’m back in Michigan and I have to be content with my Vernor’s Ginger Ale, which you really can’t get in Philly.  Oh, the sacrifices we make in life.