Despite media’s liberal use of unverifiable, anonymous sources, what is known now, less than two weeks since Prince’s untimely passing, is still little. But stigma around opioid dependence may be partly to blame.

After kicking heroin, I worked at a small Jewish deli in the overly-Lutheran city of St. Paul, Minnesota. The first job I held down sans opiates. Perfect for a stunted 23-year-old. My morning duty at the deli was to display the freshly baked bread on the tall rack. Pumpernickel, Russian rye and, of course, challah on Fridays. Big, steaming loaves, so soft that if you put one through the bread slicer before it cooled, it’d come out the other end a pile of hot mush. The best breads always sold out. And the hardest part of working at Cecil’s was breaking the news to an adorable old regular that the bread she so desired was gone. I’d shrug, and meekly suggest a lesser bread, “Onion rye?”

One of my co-workers, a Minnesota native, told me even Prince dug the bread at Cecil’s. Yeah, right. No, no, we have proof, he said. He took out his phone and showed me a Minneapolis-based food blog called Heavy Table. The blog had an ongoing series where they asked famous Minnesotans if they could inspect their fridge to find out what’s inside. Of course they asked Prince, the pride of Minnesota. Only, before agreeing to be featured, Prince and his people laid out conditions:

“No descriptions of the house or its location; Prince would not actually be present during the fridge inspection; No photographer.” So they had to bring in an illustrator.

Just as you’d expect, Prince’s fridge was childlike (Dunkaroos), obscure (yak milk), and only posed more questions than answers (18 varieties of mustard). But, the proof was indeed in the fridge: “Half a loaf of challah bread from Cecil’s Delicatessen.” Though, Prince did specify that someone named Manny eats the bread, because Prince, as you know, is a vegan. No one knows who Manny is. Read more “the fix”…