Weekend eats. Drank plenty of Colt45 in the past but never together with pickled pig parts from the gallon sized jar that used to be found on the counter of most NewYork bodegas, though not so much anymore. My pickled pig knuckles came off the supermarket shelf. From my first and only mouthful of knuckles my whole face puckered from the vinegar brine that had totally infused the fatty meat. Right away it was not my taste, even the cold beer had to work to get noticed by my taste buds after that. Speaking with my southern in-laws about pickled pork they talk about it with so much love. Back in the day it was a cheep bar snack that was useful to the stomach for a night of heavy drinking much like Jamaica’s mannish water/goat head soup. This is not a delicacy only found in the south, it exists all around the world made with just about every part of the pig with any combination of spices and vinegar. If you see pickled pig parts in a bodega give it a try because it’s part of a vanishing New York.
Produce store on Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn. These blue crabs caught my attention because of the way they all looked at the bottom of a large deep plastic container. Their shells were blue, seen that, but I had never seen rounded shells before. Under the store’s florissant light they looked like little sci-fi creatures. The raw color and texture of our food and the journeys it has to take on it’s way to our tables makes interesting photos.