Small Bites

Little Vittles

In the whatever-you-call-the-neighborhood north of NoLibs, there are some interesting foodie developments. (Is Modo Mio the hottest restaurant in town?) On a more modest scale, there is Quince Fine Foods (209 West Girard Ave., 215-232-3425), a sweet little grocery that specializes in Spanish imports. There is serrano ham, idiazabal and manchego cheese, and all varieties of preserved goodies. There is also a nice selection of crafts and the occasional art show on the walls. But the big draw for me is the rotating list of to-go sandwiches — which I wash down with a delicious grapefruit Fizzy Lizzy — that co-owner Nicole Marcote lovingly makes fresh every day. That's $6.25 total for a phenomenal lunch. The goat cheese and grilled vegetables on a baguette is superb, and her own favorite is salchichon y manchego. But I love the turkey and cheese on grilled Metropolitan Bakery multigrain. The secret ingredient? Quince paste, of course. —Peter Burwasser

Ergonomically designed for maximum blue-cheese-to-Buffalo-wing coverage, the WingDipper's here to cure the woes caused by inefficient circular dressing cups. (C'mon, you know you've got those woes.) The patented design doesn't discriminate — the elongated, reusable containers are wide enough to ensure proper dipping on both drumstick and wing portions. The Mount Sinai, New York-based company offers packs for both private use (Super Bowl party, my place) and for restaurants (heyo, King of Wings!). Available at wingdipper.com. —Drew Lazor

With a strange name and stranger shape, Buddha's hand is quite the citron. The bright yellow, lemonlike fruit is made up of between five and 20 waxy "fingers" that look ready to snatch up any Whole Foods shopper that comes too close. While the Chinese and Japanese use Buddha hands mostly for their fresh scent, the rind produces a nice zest and the tart flesh can replace lemon in many recipes. Just cut off a couple digits, peel, and your garnish is complete — if not slightly grotesque. —Monica Weymouth

The McRib — that gelatinous, boneless pork patty complete with its own synthetic grill ridges — is arguably the most infamous McDonald's offering of all time. (No offense, McLean.) That's why, in 2005, the megacorp jumped on the opportunity to drum up limited-time demand for the bizarre treat via its "McRib Farewell Tour" viral marketing campaign. (The sandwich was dropped from regular menus due to lackluster sales overseas.) Of course, farewell never really meant goodbye. Now in its third leg, the tour provides obsessives with loads of interactive content. Visit mcrib.com to download themed wallpapers, purchase T-shirts or play lighting tech for fictional hair metal bands belting out power ballads dedicated to the least essential sandwich in the history of the eating ("You left your mark on me/ and now I'll never be hungry again"). —DL