Where's the love, or the meat for that matter?

Today featured the grand opening of SAGAL carniceria (1307 Fulton St.) just down the block from my so called home and resting place.  This place is amazing.  Huge counters of fresh, cheap meat.  If I were the sort of person who used multiple exclamation points, this would be the time.  Grand opening specials include: 

15lbs of Oxtail for $29.99

40lbs of chicken legs for $16.99

And my personal favorite:

5 lbs of pig feet for 4.99

Holy crap this is awesome.

However, there is trouble in paradise.  I personally see this as a wonderful addition to the 'hood, but one black woman entered the store and said (for all to hear) "I'm not here to buy anything.  I just wanted to see...  Just like I thought.  Not one black person working here.  Not one black person working here.  In this neighborhood, that just ain't right."   The Hispanic fellow who was selling me pork liver ($1.69/#) just sort of gave her a dirty look.  He then turns to me and says, "She's a racist.  It doesn't matter if there are a thousand black people. It's not about that."

Hear, hear.

I knew that there was some racial tension in my neighborhood, particularly next door in Crown Heights, where the Hassidic Jews and Caribbean populations are classically at odds, but this was a time where it struck me as particularly divisive.  Sometimes I think that New York, and the outer boroughs in particular are America's unmelted pot.  Part of the joy of having so many distinctive ethnic neighborhoods is diminished by this palpable tension.  People really look and act differently from block to block.  These aren't differences that are easy to gloss over.

I'm currently feeling that Spike Lee's "Do The Right Thing" is one of the most perspicacious films I've seen in a long time.  The more I think about it the more there is to think about.  Or one might say there's more fat to chew on.