Thwarted

I am under no illusions- Pittsburgh is not a walking city. It is no London, or New York. Sure, it has its pockets of walkers, in Oakland near the universities, for example. But by and large, it is a city of drivers. My expectations are already low. But lately it seems that wherever my legs take me, there is something or someone in the way. Something big, noisy, dangerous- or all three.

Our city is rife with construction, even in the off-season, and it frustrates drivers as well as those on bikes or walking. But most of the improvements benefit drivers and bike riders on roads, too. And the inconveniences to these folks are mostly felt by being rerouted or made to wait in long traffic lines as two lanes are temporarily merged into one. When you are a walker- and I haven't really referred to myself as such since I was in kindergarten and walked to school- these traffic pattern changes and construction efforts are felt more palpably, and their discomfort is often translated into physical danger.

Thankfully the sidewalk and road construction on Penn Avenue between Fifth Avenue and the Bakery Square development is now at a stage so that you can once again use the sidewalk on at least one side of the street. I bused it when it was less accessible. Going around it would have taken an extra 15 or more minutes of travel time. So I was relieved when it reopened. But when you actually get to the intersection to cross, you are presented with this picture.


Barely usable for someone in sensible shoes on a good weather day, but certainly not handicap accessible or easily traversed in a downpour.

On the same day, a few blocks away, I faced off against these guys, fixing cracks in the asphalt on the road.


The noise from the truck and fumes and compressed air shooting from the hose were more than unpleasant- they made it difficult to pass on the nearby sidewalk. And dangerous to cross over as cars were speeding up to try and pass them.

On my way home, on a section of Penn Avenue closer to Downtown, I came upon these men working in manholes on both sides of the street- blocking the sidewalk on both sides with their trucks. I had to cross between the trucks, playing chicken with the traffic, to cross at all.


I know that this section of Penn Avenue, and the others that I travel, is not heavy in pedestrian traffic. But more thought and intervention- by signs or by police-is given to how cars and drivers will negotiate these roadblocks, than to anyone else. And this is not just one unfortunate, isolated day. Every week a different but similarly hazardous scenario can be encountered. More than frustrated, I feel hot under the collar- and not just from the exercise of walking.

Smoky Temptress

Pittsburgh is not widely known for its barbecue. If you ride the 86B Frankstown to Wilkinsburg, you know this is is an oversight.

There are not one, but three barbecue spots along the way from Penn Avenue in Garfield to Braddock Avenue in Homewood, each one smokier than the next.

Z Best Barbecue Ribs and Chicken first sang its siren song to me this summer while I was walking my dog in the 5000 block of Penn Avenue. Even in the early morning, the smoke hangs thickly around the building. Sometimes the barbecue grill is placed out front on the sidewalk to lure neighborhood customers. But I am seldom waking by when the storefront is open, and so have never taken advantage of the long list of sides displayed by menu flaps on either side of the awning , or what I can only imagine is delectably tender and waiting for me underneath the rusty grill hood.

I don't really eat meat anymore. I live in a vegan household, and like it. This summer I was "meated out", the equivalent of being grossed out, but with meat. I ate at a local restaurant specializing in local fare, and everything I placed in my mouth that evening had meat in it, including the goat ravioli and the duck confit . I don't even want to talk about the pork terrine. There seemed to be little else on the menu. Though it was all delicious, I haven't been carnivorous since. Or been tempted to be. Until The Dream.

The 86B travels from Downtown to the Strip District, then skirts the largely African American communities of Garfield, East Liberty, Homewood and Wilkinsburg. When I ride it home from work, mine is almost always the only white face on the bus. It is safe to assume that I wouldn't have walked past The Dream Bar-B-Q if I didn't walk from the Frankstown and Braddock Avenues bus stop to work, 6 blocks south on Braddock.

According to one of the chefs, there has been a barbecue in the location for more than six years, but it has been called The Dream for a little over two. The owner cooks the ribs and chicken in several covered grills on the street, the chef cooks the sides inside the kitchen. On the Friday that I stopped in, he made his special and delicious chicken fried rice, which he allowed me to sample. And the sauce- sweet, very sweet, red sauce with a real punch of spice and fire at the end. I was there on the pretense of just checking things out. I watched the customer in front of me order a rib sandwich as I chatted with the cook. Several bones of meaty ribs on top of your choice of white or wheat bread are smothered in the sweet, hot, or mustard house sauces. It looked like a lot of food for under $7 with tax. The big dining room, which you cannot see from outside, was also a surprise. But I stepped back out into the sunshine without my own styrofoam container of barbecue- still hungry.

The hunger lingers when I smell the smaller barbecue grill belonging to one of our neighbors being fired up. Or when I noticed another barbecue- Showcase BBQ, "Best on the Planet"- along the same bus route, set off from the road, not far from the YWCA and the Crispus Attucks American Legion post on Frankstown Avenue. But though my nose tells me differently, I don't think it is a hunger that will be satisfied by chicken or ribs, or greens cooked in turkey fat. So for now, I continue to walk to The Dream, take a deep breath, wave to the chef, and keep walking.