The first thing you notice about Eataly King of Prussia are the crowds. The shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip crowds that mob the place with the regularity of the tides — flowing in, choking every aisle, thronging every counter, and then ebbing away.
For five or 10 minutes, the only movement is a kind of involuntary motion that forces the entire mass of customers through the clogged consumerist arteries, past displays of dry pasta, wrapped candies, gift boxes, charcuterie, and imported olive oils dolled up like rare treasures. And then, inexplicably, a lull. Somewhere, a logjam breaks and there’s room to move. To browse.
