Scrapple

Alas, poor Philly: I hardly knew I'd miss you I've been away from the city of my birth for barely a month now and, against all expectations, I must confess that I miss it greatly. A lifelong resident of the area, I possess as jaundiced and sarcastic a worldview as possible, and I regarded my city (as most Philadelphians do) as a flawed creation greatly inferior to so many other American cities. Philadelphia, as we all know far too well, lacks the intimacy of Boston, the importance of Washington, or the size and bustle of New York.

Some of the Republican Party's wealthiest donors gathered at the Main Line's grandest estate yesterday, where the linen-draped tables, extravagant floral arrangements, and heavy silverware might have led them to expect a spread of champagne and caviar. This being Philadelphia, they got scrapple. "It's like pork mush, isn't it?" said Ohio Rep. Dave Hobson, sampling a fried scrapple square daubed with apple chutney. His wife, Carolyn, shook her head warningly. "You don't want to know," she murmured.

Three mutilated goats that may have been slain as part of a ritual were found yesterday in a wooded area in East Bradford Township, authorities said. Chuck McDevitt, public relations manager for the Chester County SPCA, said the goats had been decapitated and their stomachs were slit with a steak knife and then stuffed with legumes similar in size to baked beans. Also, in place of one of the goat's heads were two small bird heads. The birds appeared to be either pheasants or guinea hens, McDevitt said.

The crowds inside and outside of Franklin Field add to the unique atmosphere at the Penn Relays, and the Spring-Ford girls' 4x400-meter relay team received further confirmation about what makes the event special. "We were at one of the stands getting food and we met an older couple from St. Louis," Spring-Ford coach Ken D'Angelo said. "They were getting cheesesteaks and we struck up a conversation. They said they usually go to the Drake Relays, and my assistant asked them to compare Drake and Penn.

Philadelphia and scrapple: A match made in heaven. Most of us pay no heed that the sight of this local breakfast favorite is greeted with shock or derision by outsiders. It may be mystery meat, but it's our mystery meat. Now that a merger with a Wisconsin company is under its belt, Habbersett's, the sausage and scrapple producer, is moving whole hog toward new products and national markets. Under the terms of a September agreement, Habbersett Brothers of Media will allow Johnsonville Sausage Co. of Sheboygan to distribute Habbersett products.

Brian Assanowicz and Victoria Baldwin, the Scrapplefest King and Queen, wave to loyal subjects yesterday at the Electric Factory. The two were chosen to preside over the festival, hosted by WWDB-FM Radio, which is designed to celebrate the unique culinary item. The three-hour afternoon event featured samples of original scrapple recipes. Hatfield Quality Meats, which produces several kinds of scrapple, presented Mayor Rendell with a bust of himself made by students at Moore College of Art. It was cast in scrapple.

There was scrapple soup. There were scrapple hoagies. There was scrapple salsa, scrapple omelettes, and what purported to be low-fat scrapple. Blocks of scrapple flew through the air into the clutches of cheering fans. Rockers crooned anthems to scrapple. Mayor Rendell showed up to accept a bust sculpted in his likeness from a slab of the pork product. When Kent Voss, a host at WWDB-FM (96.5), fell in love with Pennsylvania's mystery meat soon after moving here, he wanted to pay homage.

The cut of scrapple was sliced thin, a robust quarter of an inch, with a soft, creamy interior sandwiched between its crisp top and bottom. Since this was a buffet, more than one of the triangular slices made a generous leap - with help, of course - onto my plate. To some, it might seem curious that I would be at the Swann Lounge, in the Four Seasons Hotel, at a $45 Sunday brunch, and at this particular moment the focal point amid all the lavish opulence and wealth of selection would be, well, scrapple, the very embodiment of frugality.

Brenda Brookshire has served her share of scrapple as a waitress at the Kulpsville Kitchen in Towamencin. But when asked if she knows what's in it, she pauses. "Pig stuff?" Though scrapple is as recognizably Philadelphia as the Liberty Bell, soft pretzels and cheesesteaks, the makings remain a mystery to just about anybody under 60 and not named Stoltzfus. It comes in a box, goes well with eggs, and tastes like scrapple. Any information beyond that seems to be on a need-to-know basis.