Calçots

Calçots are messy buggers.  In restaurants in Barcelona they give you baby's bibs before you eat them. 
But we don't pussy around here and when Ju tips them hot from the grill onto the roof tile it's a bum fight of ash, burnt outer leaves and romesco sauce.
He bought 50 and we only ate half of them.  I hid the rest so he couldn't take them back to Spain.
They grow, as far as I know, exclusively in Catalonia but I'm up for the challenge of proving that they can grow on the other side of the Pyrenees.

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