Brick homes sat shoulder to shoulder, little front porches faced the street, and at the end of the block stood a corner market that looked like it had been there forever. That is what I found when I turned the corner onto a St. Louis street, half-convinced I had taken a wrong turn into a small town somewhere far from Missouri.
Inside, the shelves climb high with imported goods and the freezer holds more than sixty kinds of ravioli and tortellini, a number I had to see with my own eyes to believe. I came in planning to grab one bag of pasta and left carrying a lot more than that.
What surprised me most was not the food, though, but how quickly a stranger with a shopping basket starts to feel like a regular. The family behind the counter has been running this place for decades, and they know the names of everyone who walks through the door…