Salmon and trout, cured and smoked.
The parking lot was dark and deserted. I’ve already been waiting 10 minutes, with my engine and headlights off when the beat-up white van pulls up. I get out of my car. A man dressed in black clothing, wearing a black ski mask gets out the back of the van; in his hands my six pounds of pork belly. I handed him my cash and he gives me my meat. No words are exchanged.
For the sake of Charcutepalozza, I’ve found my way to the world of underground meat.
