<font face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="2"> Business is sizzling on Ginnodo Street, a scrap of North Philadelphia where - just beyond the waist-high weeds and in the shadow of the shuttered Tell-a-Friend discount grocery - the Amish barbecuers began their open-air grilling in April.
The first in, early each Friday, is bearded Dan King, his straw hat dark from the smoke of the charcoal fire he pokes and rakes to cook the racks of baby back ribs and coveted chicken.
Later, Henry Lapp shows up with heads of Lancaster County cabbage and fresh-dug new potatoes, his hydroponic (until the field crop comes in) tomatoes, and heavy jars of garlic pickles.
Ginnodo Street goes nowhere fast. It is 50 yards south of Girard off Ridge Avenue. The buildings are gone, part of the empty perimeter festooned with concertina wire, Girard College's gleaming marble a distant dream a few blocks to the west.</font>