Everything’s coming up green. Finally.

There’s a place in the meat mall that has the world’s prettiest corned beef. Here’s the line. Everybody’s Irish on St. Patrick’s day.

At least you can get a parking place this time of year. (Note the pig head on the counter.)

The only thing more pathetic than the silver-painted statue buskers are the people who are charmed by them.

Made in Detroit. No frills, reasonably priced. You can have it in any color, as long as it’s black. The Type A, natch. #ohhenry

Chardapalooza.

…in which the local-food movement is colonized by a corporation. It’s a huge Betty Crocker thing. For Sweetest Day, get it? GET IT?

Haven’t done one of these for a while. It seems the only caption that applies is: The glory of everything.

Garlic scapes = pesto fodder. So glad to be back in the world.

Amid the throngs of suburbanites, a demonstration. Because sure, there’s PLENTY of parking.