i absolutely love markets. farmers markets, flea markets, even supermarkets in countries other than my own always bring a smile to my face no matter what kind of mood i’m in. things have been a teeny bit frustrating here in london what with the backwords hurdling werewolf chase of setting up a business. it’s been quite exciting but a bit exhausting, and going to the market is a great way to slow down and clear my mind. we are sloooooowly moving towards signing our lease, but as non-citizens with no proof of UK employment, this process moves at about the brisk pace of the yearly expansion of finland‘s land mass thanks to post-glacial rebound. yes, post-ice-age isostatic recovery always provides me with an endless source of entertainment.
post-glacial rebound aside, i am here to talk about the endless excitement of markets. to tantalize your tastebuds and stimulate your imagination as to how ridiculously wonderful our apartment will be once we actually get it, i’ll show you some photos from last week’s broadway market. our hopeful new place is sandwiched right in between this phenomenal saturday market, chock full of independent food retailers and fashion stalls, and the famous sunday morning columbia road flower market. my first visit there will be to stock our new flat floor-to-ceiling with bouquets and plants and loveliness in bloom.
thus, we will have a one-two punch of back-to-back weekend marketing within a five minutes walk radius of our place. this idea makes me happy as a pig in sh*t. or, happy as me with a roasted bit of pig in bun in hand. miraculously, this exact item happened to be on sale at the first stall of the market. this poster, and the accompanying smell, called to me with caressing words of love and promises of porky perfection.
yeah. for reals. i’m obsessed with this stand. they have a huge metal grill with a slowly rotating hog on a spit. when you order, they grab a ciabatta from a stacked pyramid of rolls in a cute wicker basket and slather it with homemade applesauce. it’s soft on the inside, but hardy enough to contain an massive helping of sandwich innards. then goes in a handful of roquette (which i assume = rocket, which also = arugula…where are we, europe or something?) and then a generous serving of succulent moist pork. the crowning detail that swiftly buys my adoration? a few carefully selected pieces of crackly pork skin, artfully placed on top of this work of art.
my mind was sufficiently distracted by the sandwich for the immediate future, but i did manage to snap some more
photos of what the market that will soon become part of my saturday ritual. i particularly enjoyed the adorable aesthetics of the shortbread owl cookies from the cinnamon tree bakery.
i also appreciated their chalkboard sign detailing their use of organic ingredients. they had another sign explaining how all their products are handmade in their south london kitchen. cute and local! yes, that IS lovely.
other stalls sold vintage dresses, handmade jewelry, old-school track jackets, grandpa cardigans, and lots of other clothes that brought me straight back to the dolores park fixie hipsterfests in the mission. chris and i were particularly amused by the ‘vintage’ mountain view high school t-shirt for sale halfway around the world. we also bought dolmas from the olive stand. yum.
we also gazed longingly at the imported italian olive oil and aged balsamic vinegar and eyed the gorgeous bouquets. excited to have a house to put these in.
our stomachs were stuffed full of pork, so i plan to go back next week to try the ghanian food at spinach and agushi. steaming woks at the market can only mean very good things.
once we get our tasty snack, we can sit by the canal, just a block or so from our house, and enjoy what will hopefully be lots of sunny weather.
i can’t wait! every saturday, we shall go to market, to market, buy a fat pig. is mother goose reading my mind? she may not have mentioned the applesauce and the ciabatta, but she certainly knows whats up with the pork products. i’ll leave you with her words of wisdom…
To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,
Home again, home again, dancing a jig;
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog;
To market, to market, to buy a plum bun,
Home again, home again, market is done.
hopefully soon we will have our apartment, and the jig dancing can begin. come visit me and off we will go to the market!