Growing up in central Jersey, I have typical memories of going to see the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, but my first memory outside those youthful ones and sports rivalries (admittedly vocal sports rivalries) is from a visit during college. Friends suggested we go try a Thai restaurant. These were still the dark days of dining, and I had no idea what Thai food might be. Arriving at the restaurant, we climbed a stairwell decorated with black and white pictures of a ballerina. At the top we were greeted both by the hostess – perched on a stool, wearing a sequined sheathe dress, showing off the lithe, bare legs she still had well into her sixties (obviously the ballerina of before) – and by strange scents of lemongrass. A lot of people associate Philly with cheesesteak or hoagies. I’ll always happily associate it with Thai scents, coconut curries and tangy soups. I still wonder what ever happened to that little Thai restaurant.