You don't know what you have until it's gone. I never realized this quite so strongly until I moved from Maryland to Boston. In Maryland, and really all of the Mid-Atlantic, scrapple was available in bountiful supply at every grocery store. For example, this is was what you saw right next to the bacon in a Virginia grocery store:
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A few years ago, the NY Times pulled together a chain of editorial letters about scrapple from 1872. Like most discussions on scrapple, it starts off with a passionate supporter going on and on about how awesome this little-known breakfast meat is. And also similar to today, the detractors voice their disgust, unable to get over how and what scrapple is made of and insist it's terrible. Same story, different century.
But what I find most fascinating is how much the initial scrapple lover sounds exactly like scrapple lovers of present day.
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