Who knew that all Pizza's in the Skook are served with a cold cup of spicy pizza sauce

Maybe it’s because I dress for winter like I’m a Dickens-era street urchin. Or maybe I’m just a sucker for an old-fashioned redemption story. Either way, my all-time favorite story is A Christmas Carol . So every year I prowl the channels and watch as many adaptations as possible. And it’s always the same: whether it’s Alastair Sim, George C. Scott, or even that one with Mr. Magoo, the real star, for me, is Mrs. Cratchit’s plum pudding. That sounded naughtier than I intended.

Peanut Chews are as lowkey Philly as snowballs whipping past Santa’s noggin or a pretzel rod stirring a cup of wooder ice. In other words—they’re known, just not ‘30-year-old boxer running up the Art Museum steps ’ known. But don’t get it twisted—Peanut Chews are quintessentially Philadelphia. Molasses-forward bites packed with roasted peanuts, dipped in a no-nonsense dark-chocolate coating that packs a Heavyweight punch. And they didn’t need a statue to make their point—just

A lot of cities are famous for their street food — crema-lathered elote on Avenida Michoacán, dirty-water dogs from a cart sitting at Broadway and 42nd, crispy arancini peddled by fruit vendors through the narrow alleyways of Palermo. But only Baltimore is known for its highway food. The Pulaski Highway, to be exact. Since the early 1970s, this 35-mile stretch from “East Bawlmor” to Abingdon has been Maryland’s open-air food court — a smoky corridor of roadside shacks carving