It has recently been brought to my attention that business at the Lower East Side’s pickle emporiums is souring in the current economic climate. This is purely unacceptable. People, if you are not buying a quart of pickled product at least once a month, I don’t know why you bother living in the New York metro area.

Pickles are a staple of the New York deli scene. For my ancestors in Eastern and Central Europe, pickling was a pretty damn important practice that ensured there would be something to eat in the winter. Today we enjoy the vinegary fruits of their constant struggle against starvation as a delightful accompaniment to sandwiches and burgers. And if you’re me, you eat them straight out of the pickle juice as a snack any time of day. I know this is not particularly socially acceptable. I’m prepared to lose some friends over it.

But for some mind-boggling reason, you New Yorkers are not taking full advantage of the wonderland of pickled treasures at your disposal! Personally, I would pack my fridge full of the newest, most garlicky, cucumbery kosher dills on a regular basis, but sadly I have yet to find them in BCN. What is your excuse, New York?

Perhaps you need some help finding these pickle havens. Here is where you go:

Guss’ Pickles
85 Orchard St., New York, NY 10002
nr. Broome St.

You can also buy them at Whole Foods, but don’t be lame. Go to the source! (Although, in true New York/Jewish fashion, there is an on-going dispute about the source of WF’s “original Guss’ Pickles.”)

If you live in Nisky, I can’t imagine you don’t know about Gershon’s on Union Street. Tony has the best kosher dills in town. I eat six of them every time I make the trip upstate. My breath stinks for days. It’s fantastic.

Need further inspiration? Have a look at this slideshow of provocative pickle pics at the New York Times. Then, go to Orchard Street and buy two quarts of pickles. Keep one to enjoy yourself and ship one to me. In this way we can keep the tradition of pickles alive on the LES and in our bellies. Everybody wins!

In the 19th century, the only guys bad-ass enough to tend sheep in the mountains of Nevada were Basque immigrants. Thanks to them, an “American” culinary oddity was born: the mountain oyster.

According to a recent NYT article, “the yellowed pages of many a family cookbook include recipes for “bildoch pesta,” lamb fest or lamb party, with the ingredients — much to the consternation of outsiders — sometimes obtained with the teeth.”

Anyone who has seen “Funny Farm” knows what the mountain oyster is. But I doubt that more than five of the Americans I know have every actually eaten them. (I will not name you here, but feel free to out yourselves if you like.)

I confess I have never sampled one of these myself, but if I did, I would want it to be in a safe environment with experienced lamb fryers. Anyone want to hit up next year’s Testicle Festival? Don’t worry, instead of harvesting them with our teeth, they will probably fly them in from Australia (which I find rather disappointing).

• View the NYT slideshow of the mountain oyster cook-off
• Read the related NYT article
• Mountain oyster recipe (warning: contains graphic – yet strangely appetizing – photographs of testicles on a grill)

Bon profit, everybody!

I am reading an excellent book about the history of Barcelona from 1714-1860 called La ciutat captiva (“The Captive City”) by Ròmul Brotons i Segarra. It contains some fascinating information about the city, all packaged in a slick design with lots of graphics, primary resources, and period illustrations in the form of etchings and “auca” drawings.

I just came across a passage describing the original role of the Mossos d’Esquadra, who disappeared for a few decades following the occupation of the city, but then reappeared in 1767:

“Fins aleshores, les esquadres havien tingut un marc d’actuació exclusivament rural i limitat a les poblacions sense guarnició militar, on s’havien distingit per la seva brutalitat repressiva. A Barcelona, hi foren destinats un caporal i vint mossos, amb la missió de fer una ronda diària per la Rambla i les àrees de la Boqueria, Escudellers i Palau per controlar la mendicitat, el joc, i altres mals costums. També els fou encarregada la vigilància de festes i processons, la captura de desertors i l’escorta d’autoritats i personalitats, a més d’haver d’assistir el botxí en les execucions i de traslladar els bocins dels ajusticiats, un cop esquarterats, als indrets assenyalats per a públic escarment, ja fos el seu poble d’origen o allà on haguessin comès un o altre delicte (68).”

My attempt at a translation (abridged):

“Up to that point, the squads had been limited to rural areas without a military garrison, where they were reknowned for their repressive brutality. One corporal and twenty officers were assigned to Barcelona, charged with performing daily rounds of the Rambla…to curtail begging, gambling, and other bad habits. They were also responsible for parties and processions…in addition to assisting the executioner in his duties and transporting the remains of the condemned, once drawn and quartered, to the designated areas of public display…”

Those following the recent police brutality at student rallies against the Bologna Process will find a certain irony in these origins, I’m sure. From the looks of things, the Mossos have not forgotten their roots:

Click to watch the Vilaweb video

Fun fact: this happened two blocks from my house.