Today: The Best Ever from Seventh Hill by Philippe Chetrit
So I’m hopping around cross-town, swaggin down 7th ST SE minding my own. Just another day, another dollar kind of day. Might be around 1pm with a little pit in my stomach, I see this Italian. It wasn’t like that, she was cut real thin, lean. And you could just tell she was from a good family, expensive taste, kept skin, real manicured. She had the look of a runway model but just chilling in jeans, chucks and a t-shirt. That’s my look – effortless taste cause the work is in the DNA.
So I sit her down and find out she is much more than a pretty face. Ooooofa. She is a real import – none of this Italian American bullshit. She is the real deal. Layered Mortadella, Capicola, Salami, provolone, fresh tomatoes, hot cherry peppers, arugula, light MAYO – and all this tastes like its fresh off the boat. But the secret to her beauty, what makes you want to get beyond the bedroom and into city hall – her buns. By far the best bread I have ever tasted. The bread was made from 24-hour-rested pizza dough from imported Naples flour. Get the fuck outta here.
FUGGET ABOUTEED, A TASTE WILL NOT DUE.
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