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From Russia with food in Northeast Philly

WHEN I travel, I go to supermarkets. Unlike most touring shoppers, I never pause at store windows displaying jewelry and haute couture. But whether I’m in Aix or Antwerp New Orleans or Naples, I make a beeline for the local grocery store to peruse aisles of preserves, inhale the scent of coffee and pick up toothpaste sporting foreign labels. More than one pal at home has benefited from my wanderings, gifted with a tub of New Zealand clover honey or a pound of chicory-laced coffee from Rouses on Royal Street. I’ve found that those kinds of souvenirs are always welcome.

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