Downstate

Summary

“I am the accumulated memory and waistline of the dead restaurants of New York,” writes the poet Bob Hershon, “and the dishes that will never be set before us again...” I’m with Hershon—for where but in memory can I ever again find the spicy taste of the prah prig sod at Siam Square, with its unique mix of lemon grass and spiced peppers? Ingested into our very beings, these tastes play a part in our social gatherings and, later, can define our fondest memories.