No one wants to eat an anus.

I lived in Boston from 1997 until 2003.  On Charles Street, a few blocks from my college dorm that straddled Boston's Back Bay and Beacon Hill communities, was a small market called Deluca's.  Deluca's had it all: a basement wine cellar, specialty items (like mango juice), sushi made on-site, and--of course--the deli section.  Like most smaller markets, the deli featured premium meats as well as homemade salads, soups and stews.

For four years, I would giggle whenever I passed the deli section and noticed the sign for Deluca's homemade "Black Anus Beef Stew."  For four years, the sign never changed.  And for four years, I never saw anyone buy that homemade anus beef stew.

Finally, a month before I graduated from college in 2001, I finally pointed out the spelling mistake to a guy behind the deli counter.  He happened to be the owner's son.

"Man!" he exclaimed.  "My dad has been wondering for years why NO ONE ever bought that stew."