This afternoon one of the old style simit sellers came passed my door and on impulse I decided to give him some custom. Probably the toughest couple of simits I have ever eaten but I still felt ok about it. These hirsute men, oil-slicked and sweating, plodding the streets in the August sun - they deserve patronage. Hardworking, honest, proud of their wares. I bet there are magic simits stashed somewhere on their wagons.