THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE
Travel and Leisure magazine recently did an online survey looking for that city in the United States that, in the opinion of its readership, featured the most attractive people. And, as luck (or lack thereof) would have it, the City of Brotherly Love finished last in the survey.

The people of Philadelphia, in my opinion, have got a legit beef here. After all, the survey only included twenty-five cities nationwide. Secondly, it didn't include, among other cities, Hyannis, which would have certainly boosted Philadelphia's ranking by at least one. And finally, in what can only be called absolute proof that this whole study was bunk, Dallas, Texas, finished barely two spots above Philly. Now I realize that my departure from that fair city certainly took its toll on the resident per capita beauty factor, but seriously. Twenty-third?

Well, cheap shots at Dallas aside, I'm here to speak up for Philadelphia. Mind you, I've never spent a whole lot of time in the city, but I'm taking this on as my latest cause célébre, and things like lack of first-hand knowledge have never gotten in my way before.

PHOTO BY JILL SANDOLE Ugly? Yes. But, tasty indeed.

Let's start with the basics. Philadelphia is the sixth most populous city in the nation, and it takes its name from the Greek "philos," meaning love, and "adelphos," meaning brother. Ergo the City of Brotherly Love. It's also home to the nation's largest Mummers Parade, which is, for lack of a better term, a bunch of people dressed up in gaudy costumes and make-up and wigs, all parading down the street. Now that I think of it, this unattractiveness thing is starting to make sense.

Greek love and mummers aside, Philadelphia is known as the birthplace of the cheesesteak sandwich, which was something of a food group for yours truly in college. The sandwich was invented, according to popular lore, by the Olivieri brothers, Pat and Harry, in the early 1930s, and the rest is history. And speaking of Philadelphia and food, we on Nantucket are blessed with our own local Philly ambassador, Bart Gangemi, owner of Tacos Tacos on Steamboat Wharf. And while Bart isn't offering a cheesesteak at his restaurant - although if he did, I'd be mighty obliged (hint, hint) - Bart is pretty much an all-around good guy who is, I suppose, not that unattractive if you catch him in the right light. But I digress.

And speaking of food and unattractiveness, anybody been shucking scallops lately?

We've got all three kinds here: the good, the bad, and the segue.

It's been said that it was a brave man that ate the first raw oyster, and I think the same can be said for the first person who ripped open a bay scallop, looked at the inside and thought it looked like a decent meal. The difference between an oyster and a scallop from the diner's perspective, though, is that with an oyster, you pry it open and suck the whole thing down. With a scallop, though, you've got to do a little separating of the internal organs.

Now, I'm not a medical doctor, though my roommate from prep school actually is, God help us all, so if I'm not exact with everything, cut me some slack. So you pick up your scallop and a bunch of little blue eyes look back at you. Those are, in fact, eyes. Scallops have pretty weak eyesight, but they can detect motion and light. Now, you move past those and you've got the gill, the heart, the stomach and all that jazz. Over there on the side, though, is what you're going for. That little barrel looking affair is called the adductor muscle, and that's the part you're eating. They tell me the rest of it is edible, but I'm not that brave. The purpose of the adductor muscle, aside from serving as a pretty major food source for people, is the opening and closing of the shell which, in addition to inflicting a pretty painful pinch if you're not paying attention, allows the scallop to move around the ocean bottom.

Now, after you've extracted the adductor muscles from your weekly bushel of scallops, you're left with the remnants: a bunch of shells with a host of assorted scallop innards accompanying them. There are various methods of disposal for said viscera, all of which I have some degree of familiarity with. The easiest and by far worst way of disposing of the shells is to leave them in the back of your car and forget about them. Trust me when I tell you that you won't be able to forget about them long, and the stench coming from the backseat will rival any catfish bait you'd care to dredge up. Another popular option is to ditch them in your neighbor's rose bushes. This is most effective when your neighbor is a summer resident who won't notice the shells when the leaves die off during the winter. An important note here, though: make sure you don't use the bushes that are directly upwind of your bedroom; see previous description for a better understanding. The best method of disposal for all involved, though, is to partake of the Jetties Beach drop-off location that the Town of Nantucket provides for family scallopers. It's fast, it's convenient and it's easy. Just please don't throw a big plastic bag full of scallop shells out there. It doesn't take that much to empty the bag and then properly dispose of the now-empty plastic bag in a proper place.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to head to Los Angeles. LA, supposedly, has the least intelligent people in the country, and I'm not above hanging out with dumb people to make

myself look smart. I

Tight lines. And full baskets.