Fulton Market Street. As a young lad, my mother would take us to the iconic Fulton Market to get fresh fish. I loved it. You got to pick fish so fresh most of them were still moving. Kind of revolting to some, but I love fish. I love it. Since mercury scares have increased and they are still dyeing the river green annually I am not surprised my mother has gone the way of grocers, but she is not the only one to change. The industrial path of the street begins at Halsted heading west interupted briefly by Ashland and continues it's stretch to California, transforming from butchers and galleries, to lumber yards, metal works and much more.
I know, I said butcher shops and galleries. It's the craziest thing. You have to see it for yourself. The most posh, upscale, mod business have flourished right next to the most unexpected businesses. The balance is uncanny, sometimes shocking, but it is great to see different social classes-(if they still exist) coexisting instead of gentrification.
Not only are the new businesses pioneers because of the location, but Folia for example is a fine dining Restaurant and Boutique. Next door they slaughter live pigs. Wild, but true.
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