Thursday, April 12. There is a house on my street that is infamous for drug dealing and associated illicit activity (like drug use, and, oh, the occasional drive-by shooting). There are always a lot of guys sitting around outside in front of the house. Tonight as we were parking, they were just settling down to some take-out. I wondered, “Where do the drug-dealers* eat?” So we asked them.

(*I will note that these guys might not be drug dealers at all. But they are sitting in front of the drug house, so they are probably at least friends with drug dealers.)

us: Hey, watcha got there?

guy one: Trout, some cornbread. This cornbread is good. It’s only 75 cents.

us: Really, where is it from?

guy one: Where? Oh, what is the name of that place?

guy two: Fish in the ‘Hood.

guy one: Yeah, that’s it. Right. Fish in the ‘Hood.

Fish in the ‘Hood! Of course! Why would I have thought it would be anything else? Hollywood could not have scripted such a perfect eatery for the drug dealers of my street. Fish in the Hood. Your name is like honey on my lips. Now we must visit there.

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