Posts tagged ‘Market’

Oct 6

Marseille to Marbella, Part VII: Aix, Le Marché

Colour, colour, colour! Shiny red apples, ruby like strawberries, resplendent silver fish and emerald green herbs. Courgettes in forest green, sage green, yellow green and white, blackboards written with curly french writing. And king of it all those sunflowers: a full, powerful sunshine punch of yellow with a deep fury chocolate brown at its centre, signalling the very epitome of this Provençal heartland. This is the market of Aix-en-Provence, the sensory spectacle to which I rushed on my birthday morning, and which is such a sight for the eyes that it deserves a post all of its own.

I can only imagine how Paul Cezanne, famous son of the city, became inspired by the bustling, vivid life of Aix’s morning market. Who could not become an artist when basking in the glories of a sun filled square, filled with stripy umbrellas casting a warm glow over stalls full of just-picked produce and carefully nurtured harvests. Yet despite its beauty, this is no artwork to be admired on a gallery wall: The beauty of le marché in Aix is that it continues to be such a vital cog in the life of the city. It is a place for bargaining and butchering, for perusing and tasting. And in Aix’s market, watching the picky locals carefully choose the very best from an already magnificently presented selection was almost as captivating for me as the produce itself.

The market of Aix is a king amongst European street markets. Not big, not intimidating, but utterly authentic and wonderfully, completely charming.

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2017. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

Jul 5

The Sicily Series | Part II – La Pescheria, Soul of the City

You can smell Catania’s famous daily fish market, Le Pescheria, long before you approach it… that unmistakable smell of the sea tinged by an ever so decipherable pungency of putrid flesh together with the fresh zing of lemon, the fragrant perfume of fresh herbs and the pure scent of water, the neutral base note which both reflects and is imbued with the distinctive nature of the surrounding area. In Catania, that is a smell which is characterised by the scorching heat absorbed into and evaporating off the dark lava stone walls of its ancient Etna-born palazzos. Follow the scent, past the resplendent Baroque Duomo, and you find yourself in Catania’s burgeoning and frankly raucous market, starting with the abundance of locally caught fish, and spreading outward into the streets beyond where stalls loaded with fruit and vegetables, herbs and spices, bread and cheeses populate every spare inch of the pavements.

The famous fish market

I have been to many wonderful European markets. Each have their own character, and every one of them is utterly captivating for the breadth of fresh produce and characterful salesmen. But Catania’s market feels more historical and more authentic than any I have visited. Gathered together among the foundations of ancient Roman ruins and decaying Medieval walls, the stalls of the fish market are collectively transportative, with the power to recall the bustle of a Roman Forum or a scene from the Renaissance. The market takes us back to the roots of modern civilisation, stripping back our senses to a basic appreciation of nature at its best: enviably fresh fish, sensationally plump vegetables, none of them the result of quality control but a product of nature’s caprice. And beyond the produce, perhaps the best thing about Catania’s market is its people, the fishermen and stall holders who are so full of passion, who will declare strong and loud that their fish is the best, outdoing one another to see who can attract the most attention, and secure the quickest sales of their freshly acquired catch.

To be accompanied by some super-fresh fruit and veg… (and cheese)

All of this combines to make a visit to Catania’s market an ultimately thrilling experience, full of noise, of smells, and of colour; shades of pink and red and green and blue whose vibrancy truly shines against a backdrop of black lava stone. This is street theatre at its thrilling best, as fishermen slice open slithering fish and proudly display their decapitated fish heads while elegantly dressed women totter in heels, neatly stepping over pools of water stained with blood. Catania is a city with real spirit and an abundance of outwardly expressed emotion, but it is perhaps in its market where Catania’s soul truly resonates.

…and some more fish

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

May 29

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The Colours of Marrakech, Part 4: Multi-coloured Souks

Winding, uneven, disorientating streets, packed with every kind of sight and sound and smell. A maze of chaotic, pulsating brilliance, cross crossed with shards of light as the boiling heat penetrates awnings made of grass and bamboo. These are the Souks of Marrakech, the utterly mesmerising completely confusing labyrinth of tightly packed market streets which sit at the heart of the city’s ancient Medina, and of its inhabitants. For trade has always been central to the functioning of Marrakech, which grew up around its perfect positioning for business with Spain and the rest of mighty Africa. Today the Souks remain the ancient location for the thousands of craftsmen eking out an existence selling their handmade wares, and easily the most fascinating place to visit.

The Souks are intrinsically beautiful. Packed with gold and ivory, leather and metalwork, great piles of spices, others of candied fruits, stalls loaded high with magical carpets, they are a real sight to be seen, as well as to smell. But be under no illusion. A visit to the Souks is an endurance test and a hard often intimidating slog for any westerner (since, lets face it, we stick out like a sore thumb against the more traditional dress of the locals). Wherever you go, you draw attention. Many see money, others see a nuisance, but almost everyone will want something from you and every 5 seconds you will need to handle an approach or a plea. Walking along those precariously narrow streets is no stroll in the park – locals use the same narrow lanes to drive like maniacs on mopeds, weaving as they do so in and out of poor donkeys, still heaving along heavy carts like a rewind back 200 years, and chickens who meander around clucking, unaware of their forthcoming bloody fate. For those on foot, you must get used to jumping out of the way, being careful not to fall into one of those precariously balanced spice piles as you do so. Then there’s the merchants. Catch their eyes, and like spiders they will ensnare you in their web. Look at their produce, take an interest in their wares, and they will lure you further still until the trap closes in. Try to get out without purchasing something I dare you! And don’t even think of looking at a map. Suggest for one second you are lost and you will be surrounded by mischievous teenagers who will try to persuade you to take them on as a tour guide. Their tricks are well known. They will get you all the more lost, taking you deeper into the Souks, before demanding money for your release.

It all sounds rather terrifying, I know. And going to the Souks is never exactly comfortable. But there is something so utterly mesmerising about this magical world that you cannot help but go back for more and gaze in sheer wonder at this incredible picture of a wonderfully different life. Until you go to the Souks, you will never truly appreciate what is Marrakech, nor Morocco. This is where the cultural differences are at their most extreme. The authenticity of the scene makes the so-called Moroccan shops in Southern Spain look like a sham. And the beauty of the place is such that you will want to photograph until your camera battery is exhausted – but be careful with this too. The locals hate being photographed and those less shy will demand money for the privilege.

So those are the Souks that ensnared our souls, scaring us aplenty but which provided the most memorable experiences of our trip. And we came away with some Saharan pottery, a metal lion, a miniature red tagine and some orange blossom essence. Not bad, especially as we were required to barter as part of the process, something which is inherently uncomfortable for the polite English. Long will I remember this maze of plenty, its exotic smells and hardened people. Most of all I will remember the multiple colours which characterise this dazzling place.

Jan 9

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Discovering Palma: Mercat de Santa Catalina

This weekend, rather unbelievably, we will be marking two months since we moved to Mallorca – in some ways surprisingly long, in others surprisingly short. For we have already discovered so much about our incredible home city of Palma de Mallorca – from its winding old town streets, to its hidden tapas gems, nearby sandy beaches and even a cinema showing films in English – that it is hard to accept that we have only been here a mere matter of weeks. But despite many an exploration made, there is still much left to discover, as our recent gastronomic sojourn in the Santa Catalina market demonstrated.

We had heard much about the Mercat de Santa Catalina (or Mercado in Castellan) before we ventured there ourselves. Half the problem was that despite its excellent reputation, we could never quite seem to find the market, despite wandering always close by. But this time we had the market firmly marked on the map and did not miss it.

Compared with the Mercat de Olivar, a market on an almost industrial scale, the Mercat in Santa Catalina is a far more select affair, and for that reason is characterised by a clear focus on gastronomy rather than economy – a clear case of quality, not quantity in this refined temple of food. Walking amongst its compact and well stocked aisles, any chef or food lover cannot help but get emotional at the sensational food on offer, from an abundance of fresh fish in glittering silvers and soft pinks, to fruit and vegetables so perfectly rounded and robust in colour and quality that they look picked straight from Eden.

Happily if, like me, you become a little overwhelmed with all that is in offer, so astounded by the impact of the produce that all cooking ideas float straight out of your head, you can at least sample some of the best food from the market in a series of popular bars dotted around the periphery. Such is their popularity however that you must jostle for a space, and that meant seizing upon such opportunities to reach a bar as arose. For us that meant finding ourselves squeezed into a small space at the bar of the Tallat a ma S’agla, which was a fine piece of luck, because the Salamancan bellota ham we indulged in was amongst the finest I have ever eaten.