A storefront on Second Avenue and Ninth Street stands as a reminder that in this neighborhood of barbecue joints and gelaterias, kielbasa and babka were once more common than ribs and macchiatos.
In 1970, Julian Baczynsky opened the East Village Meat Market to serve the Eastern European immigrants living in the area, offering his house-made smoked meats created from Polish and Ukrainian recipes.
The weeks before Easter are now the market’s busiest time of year, as this vestige of the old community continues to draw customers, many who once lived nearby, or who worshiped at St. George Ukrainian Catholic Church. Long departed from the neighborhood, they, or their families, now travel hours to shop for holiday fare they say is difficult to find elsewhere.
On a recent Saturday, a white facade outside with blue and red lettering greeted customers. The sign bearing Mr. Baczynsky’s name seems so dated, it’s accidentally retro.
Inside the wood-paneled market, shelves are weighed down with packets of dried borscht mix, bags of Polish plum chocolates, and rolls and rolls of traditional breads. Babka, made in a bakery in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, is stacked in boxes on the floor.
Strings of sausage dangle behind the register, ready to be packed in white butcher paper by clerks taking customer orders in Polish, Ukrainian and English.
Andrew Ilnicki, the store manager, fondly referred to them as his “once-a-year customers.â€
The line snakes from the cash register, past a hot buffet â€" with blintzes, pierogi, stuffed cabbage and more â€" to the rear of the market.
“It’s a dying art,†said Irena Feder, 60, of how the store prepares its sausage and ham. Ms. Feder came to the market from Brooklyn for kielbasa. “We’ve always shopped in the neighborhood, being Ukrainian, for foods like my parents had in the old country,†she said.
According to Eastern European tradition, kielbasa is presented with babka and eggs in a basket and blessed for Easter. Ham and kabanosy, a skinny pork sausage in lamb casing, are also top sellers.
Anthony Tychanski oversees the sausage making, adhering to the recipes handed down from Mr. Baczynsky. After the sausage is mixed and casings are stuffed, the links are hung in rows on drying racks, then baked and smoked for up to four hours. Mounds of hickory chips burn inside the two ceiling-high smokers.
Ham, also prepared in house, is brined in a mixture that includes salt, sugar and bay leaves before being smoked and then baked with a sugary glaze. Wrapped hams pack a large refrigerator at the back of the store.
Mr. Tychanski and other employees of the store have years of experience with Mr. Baczynsky’s methods. Their lives are tightly intertwined with the store, and with the community.
George Kossakowski, the butcher, lives in the building, and has been with the market for more than 20 years. “Here you know everyone,†he said.
The market’s smokers run 24 hours a day to meet holiday demand.
“If you lived in the neighborhood, you would smell the smoke,†Mr. Ilnicki said.
Indeed, that hickory-smoke aroma greets customers, many of whom arrive with multiple orders.
Jennifer Nitkowski, 27, and Janet Carter, 29, drove from Connecticut with more than 70 orders for ham, sausage and babka.
The two-hour-plus journey was made for the local Ukrainian club, Ms. Nitkowski explained, and everyone else had aged out of making the trip.
“My grandfather is 91, and he’ll be having his Easter meal,†she said.
It could be that customers are looking for a connection to their past as much as they are shopping for Easter dinner.
Marcy Kurman, who made the trip from Pennsylvania, has shopped at Baczynsky’s for 56 years.
“Twice a year is a must,†she said, referring to Easter and Christmas.
When it was his turn at the meat counter, David Craig, 54, leaned across the tall glass case and rattled off a list â€" he had requests from six different families.
He had driven from Westchester County with his father-in-law who, as a young man, attended church at St. George.
“He’s circling the block a million times,†Mr. Craig said.
