Features
Eastern Market reeks. One step inside the door and it hits, wafting off of the exiting patrons. Somehow they’ve carried an odor that can only be conjured up by a mingling of distinguishable smelly things. Fish, irises and raw meat lay claim on the nostrils of newcomers.
Then, depending on who walks by, the entering shopper is struck by scents as diverse as the crowd inside. There’s the elderly couple with a bag full of cheese that a virgin nose might tag as goat. There’s a young mother fending off scurvy from her kids with a bundle of citrus and there are the newlyweds with a few links of sausage from Canales Quality Meats for a Labor Day barbecue.
By
Phil Perry
September 6, 2007