Imagine breathing in the gray, misty air of a New Jersey morning. You are standing in front of Satriale’s Pork Store. From inside, the scent of freshly brewed espresso and heavy cigar smoke drifts out. The young man stepping through the door isn't a legend yet. He’s wearing a baggy tracksuit; his eyes reflect both fear and a wild hunger. No one respects him yet. He’s just someone’s nephew. He’s the likable kid who runs errands, talks out of turn, and is tolerated only because he has "potentia...

Imagine breathing in the gray, misty air of a New Jersey morning. You are standing in front of Satriale’s Pork Store. From inside, the scent of freshly brewed espresso and heavy cigar smoke drifts out. The young man stepping through the door isn't a legend yet. He’s wearing a baggy tracksuit; his eyes reflect both fear and a wild hunger. No one respects him yet. He’s just someone’s nephew. He’s the likable kid who runs errands, talks out of turn, and is tolerated only because he has "potentia...