VTHE PLACE WAS AN OLD church. From the outside, it looked like someone had built a warehouse right onto the back of it. And we came in through the transept and found ourselves on a clear path right over to a long line of tables with a highway of day-old buns and bagels on plastic racks. These ended with two immense soup kettles bolted to the floor, steaming into the already humid air.
This blond pulled me right along and now shoved a bowl and large spoon into my hands, motioning me along down the line in front of her. I got a couple of dark brown buns and the wait staff ladled my bowl with some sort of ham and bean soup. As I paused by the end of the kettles, the blond came up to my side again, her own hands full.
“This way.”
She led us to a single dining table with benches on each side
