Pickle Pitt stop

Pittsburgh, home of Heinz and gherkin glory, comes with a side of Andy Warhol wonders, Peter Harvey discovers

- -  Peter Harvey

Nothing says Picklesburgh like drinking pickle juice. "It's refreshing and very good for you," declares Dill-cathlon host Rachael to a whooping crowd.

A trestle table is bedecked with eight jars of sickly-green liquid. Alongside each is a grab-ready "barf bag".

T-shirted, baseball-cap wearing contestants prepare to glug their quart (roughly two pints) of tangy brine, as TV news crews jostle for the best shot. Rules are clear: contestants who noticeably spill, splash or regurgitate the pickle juice will be disqualified.

Final deep breaths as the countdown begins. A little under four seconds later, 20-something Ryan is fastest finisher for the second year, regaining his prized Duke of Drinking title.

The local favourite even clipped a full second off his PB. Sick bag not needed. And hardly a dribble.

Picklesburgh - a zany, summer celebration of "all things pickled" - is a headline-grabbing cornerstone of Pittsburgh's tourism strategy. Why pickles? Well, the Pennsylvania city is the home of Heinz where the global brand was born 156 years ago. Dill pickles were one of its original products.

"I'm kind of a big dill" and "real dill" merchandise is everywhere at this pickle pun festival. Some locals even believe juice guzzling should be an Olym-pickle sport.

Over several days, 250,000 visitors flock to enjoy food and drink while watching other oddball contests such as riding a pickle-shaped bucking bronco.

Joe, from Ohio, was crowned Earl of Eating after gobbling 4lb of gherkins (what we Brits call dill pickles) in just four minutes. Local girl Colleen was the new Baroness of Bobbing for grabbing a bucketful of the baby cucumbers in 90 seconds using just her mouth.

The action takes place in the city's "Golden Triangle" beneath mirror-glass skyscrapers.