The Meat Market

From 2011-10-14 The Pachecos

Pacheco’s Meat Market is near mythic in the ersatz pantheon of Team Interrobang.  Gary (Church) and Derek (Caboose) Pacheco both work there in some capacity and it’s been spun off in a dozen directions some of which are nice (there’s a Pacheco’s Meat Market-level Donor class) to not so nice (“Come meet my aunt.  She’s a nice lady and all and her face is busted but her body’s slammin’.”)  The market itself is unremarkable but the magic happens in the back where the signature chorizo, a type of Portuguese sausage, is made.

From 2011-10-14 The Pachecos

The chorizo has its fans and gets shipped all over the United States.  A batch was being smoked while I was there and I was given some before I left.

Gary and Derek took me to a fine lunch and then gave me a tour of Fall River which consisted of pointing out perpetual construction, rust, and graffiti removal.  Any of the Pachecos are hesitant to move as most of their family lives within a few blocks of them, something that carried over from their origins in the Azores.  I asked Gary and Derek’s mother if she preferred the states or back home and received the reply of “I could go back home if I had to.  I wouldn’t want to, but I could.  But I would miss having floors.”  Of all the wonders of America that would inspire longing, floors tug strongest at the heart strings.

The Pachecos’ apartment building is small but tidy and is bathed in bits of family history.  Photos from across three generations, from major life events, and of life’s marginalia crammed available shelves.  Gary and Derek’s father has at times looked like Chuck Norris, The Most Interesting Man in the World, and Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva making him the template for some future Portuguese Ãœbermensch.  Their dog, Chewy (named after the adjective, not the Wookiee) enjoys butting against bed frames, especially mine, and was unenthused to see me leave in the late afternoon.

From 2011-10-14 The Pachecos

I had drug my feet more than I wished and hit every possible type of traffic on my way north to Quebec.  Having blown my 10 PM arrival time, I stopped for a nap and a pound of pears at a farmer’s market connected to a McDonalds and crossed the border into Canada alone without incident for what I think is the first time ever.  The arterial roads all seemed to be under construction with frequent lane closures but the hour was late enough for this to not matter.  All the signs were in French and each section of road work ended with a sign saying “Fin” like I was driving out of a student film each time quality pavement returned.

Richard was again my host and his father, consummate competitor, challenged me to a game of backgammon.  Bianca was on her way out when I arrived and Richard, Adam, and I walked her home.  Bianca had made for me a painting of fireflies around a pear, I very much like it.

Reference Shots:

From 2011-10-14 The Pachecos
From 2011-10-14 The Pachecos