It is, of course, possible that Giordano's Bakery, an 8-ft. by 10-ft. shop in a depopulated section of Newark, does not make the best Italian bread in the world. Possibly it is only the best in the New World. Possibly -- and I say this to appease those of you in places like Cincinnati or Phoenix -- possibly it is merely the best in New Jersey. But this isn't a position you would want to argue on Seventh Avenue, where the people hurrying between the shop and their double-parked cars tend to be staunch Giordano's loyalists.
Would they have got out...
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