From the beginning, the market was a target of anti-immigrant sentiment and harangues about lousy sanitation. But here it still stands, the droopy awnings, the sidewalk chants, the raw commerce little changed in style since 1915 - though the product line has a new accent.
Isgro's still stuffs cannolis to order. George's stews its tripe. Di Bruno still celebrates truffle season. But towering Mexican wedding cakes totter in the window at Las Lomas, and there are tamales and pollos rostizados, and at Lupita's Luncheria, workers spoon down steaming bowls of posole.
Yes, you can get most of this stuff - the pots and pans, the gravy-soaked pork sandwiches, the bony fish, the hair-relaxer, the cheeses, the tamales, posole and roast chicken - in other parts of the city these days.
What you can't get, of course, is the Ninth Street Market in all its faded glory - fire barrels showering sparks, peppers by the bagful, skinned rabbits in the windows.
So while the economy's nosedive may sidetrack the higher-concept piece of Emilio Mignucci's rescue, it may - without anyone's lifting a finger - give a second life to the stalls still struggling at the curb.
They may not speak Italian. But they are, still, The Market.
Contact columnist Rick Nichols at 215-854-2715 or rnichols@phillynews.com. Read his recent work at http://go.philly.com/ricknichols
