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I know that the Dinosaur BBQ outpost in Harlem boasts boatloads of passionate pig partisans. One of them, a friend from Chicago, took me there the other night. “You’ll love it,” she said. “It’s great barbecue.”
When you walk into Porchetta, the diminutive sandwich shop on E. 7th street, you instantly know what the place is all about. Front and center looms a glass case displaying glistening slabs of just-roasted pork loin that’s been rubbed with fennel pollen imported from Italy.
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