How to go to a Market
Dawn at Victor Hugo + Convergences of Space and Time
I can’t wait for that specific kind of wet chill that makes you feel as if your nose is literally going to freeze off your face. It must have something to do with your proximity to the ocean, or a river port, or maybe I’m just lucky enough to turn up to markets in the grayest of grey weather. One of my earliest food memories is gripping the grease-stained brown bag of ripping-hot Jumbo Drumsticks as my mom pulled me along (sniffling) through the crowds of Pike Place, trying not to slip on the square red tiles, not always successfully. It was overwhelming for my young mind, the sounds, the neon, the smells, the steam, the energy, and the bustle (formative, you think?) - I’d beg to go down the ramp to the magic shop and to buy a pewter figurine, but we’d inevitably miss the turn to pass the Flower Ladies and their cloying bouquets on our way to our destination, a very special and specific square red tile. I remember the windows out to the bay always being impenetrably fogged - my cheeks were even rosier than they are now, and my face was finally warming up.
But I’ll get back to that. You’re here to read about charcuterie, meats, and markets — hang tight, I’ve got you. This story begins, as many of my stories are sure to do, with one of my guiding lights and our Modern Saints, the inimitable and controversial Uncle Tony.
When I started reading Bourdain at a young (again, formative) age and watching him on his first show, A Cook’s Tour, it hit me like a ton of bricks, over and over - a feeling with which I’m sure most of you can empathize. The possibilities he and his team presented stuck on me and sent tendrils into my brain to rewire or maybe electrify conduit that was already laid out. Most importantly, for our purposes, the piece that struck a chord was that diving into food markets was elevated to be akin to jumping into a mosh pit at the loudest and sweatiest show to which you’ve ever been. The excitement and the fear and the unknown and the payoff — you didn’t even know what you were looking for, but you know you wanted, and that’s what was important.
Countless pieces of our modern media try to capture this feeling, but I can tell you, I’ve never worn leather shoes next to Siena Miller in a cocktail dress and jean jacket in a gleaming fish market in London. Nor have I ever found a rat in my hat in Paris. No, the reality is a lot wetter, earlier, and louder than most of what you’ve seen on screen. Few scenes, however, hit it more on the money than when Bourdain visited the Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo in the pilot episode of A Cook’s Tour. You can feel the nerves through his facial expressions, his cautious voice over, and how he feels absolutely In The Way and I daresay, a fish out of water. What separates us on the Home Team though, is our need to stick it out past that awkwardness and to have the guts to power through the social discomfort to the prize. And the prize is glorious - the connection, the reward, the breakthrough.
And then we want to do it all over again. We’re hooked. But next time, a little better. —This takes practice. So that’s what I’ve been doing. For over two decades.
Victor Hugo Market is the main stationary food market smack dab in the middle of Toulouse, in Southwestern France - the Rose City, and the pride of Occitania. I’ve been many times, throughout the seasons in France. I must give credit where credit is due,
was the first to bring me there as part of a group tour she gave in the early -aughts. This time, though, I was on my own, after a too-early morning dropoff at Toulouse Airport - I didn’t want to head home just yet and the city was still rubbing its eyes and smashing the snooze button. It was finally properly cold and wet again after a brutally hot August, and I couldn’t’ve been happier.
As I shamelessly bragged before, I've been hitting markets for a while now. I thought it’d be useful to share a few of the Moves I have learned and figured out over the years — Moves that I’m going to impart to you here and now. This is an Officially Non-Exhaustive List, so cool your jets if I don’t hit your favorites. I really do hope you can use some of these so you can start to answer the question of “How do I go to a market?” and so that you can, like me, feel less like you’re In the Way.
Market Moves - Version 1.0
Go early. Earlier than you think. It’s far, far worse to be late than to be early. When you’re early you have options. When you’re late, well…. you’re screwed. You’re going early for many reasons (fresher product, get to see the cases in their platonic ideal, shorter lines etc.), chief of which is that there will be far fewer people there and you can take your time to look and ask questions. A few days ago in Toulouse I was even too-early, many of the stands hadn’t even shown up yet — except the fish guys, they need the most time and space to get set up. One tattoo’d dude in full waiters and ear buds was belting a pretty solid rendition of Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U”, really hitting the TOO YOUUUUuuu’s with everything he had in an otherwise graveyard-quiet market. After enjoying the private concert, I decided to grab a sad chocolatine from the only bakery that was open and hang out with the bumbles for a solid 15.
Stay out of the way. Keep your (potentially buzzed) head on a swivel and stay out of the way of the inevitable mini-forklifts and porters whizzing around the market at this early hour. They’ve got enough to deal with without shouting at a tourist to bouche their cul’s or get run over. ***(2.5) Don’t interrupt. The people working early at the markets have a rapidly depleting set amount of time to get their cases and stations prepared for the day, and I can nearly guarantee that they haven’t budgeted in the ten minutes necessary to explain to you the provenance of the still-wriggling langoustines with your busted French. Imagine someone quizzing you about directions on the sidewalk in August while your ice cream cone is melting all over your hand. It’s the same feeling. Don’t do that. If you have a question, wait till the vendors are looking a bit bored or rolling a smoke, and ask if you may ask them a question. GoogleTranslate is your friend. Be brave.
Get the coffee. There’s truly something holy and perfect about the market bar. It exists all over the world. The guy working has been there since the last Big War. None of the glasses match. People may or may not be smoking inside. There’s a regular posted up on their stool. (Don’t sit on their stool.) The market bar is really on another level - well worn, beloved, and sacrosanct. Wait your turn. Grab the spot with your elbow. Make eye contact and call out what you want in a clear voice. Keep your eyes up. Don’t dick around on your phone out of fear. Soak it up. Say please, thank you, and goodbye. You’ll be back.
Spend your money. If you’re lucky enough to spend some time with a vendor, asking questions, receiving samples, and you even consider leaving without buying SOMEthing - I want you to hear Dicky Greenleaf’s final words roaring in your ear so you don’t become a THIRD CLASS MOOCH. You’re in a market that sells wonderful things, buy some of them. The vendors are not there to run a charity. You don’t put on a “jacket” unless you’re going out in the “rain”, right?
Be excited. In the same vein of the currently gelling ideas of how to be a good diner in the modern age that some super-famous podcasters and ex-chefs are promoting, a critical piece of the puzzle is recognizing the exchange that’s happening right before you. If you want to hold up your end of the stick, be excited and be pumped to be where you’ve worked so hard to put yourself, whether that’s far flung or even at your home-town farmer’s market. The folks selling the goods have made a life-choice to be where they are and are more than likely super passionate about their craft and product. Showing up politely and with positive energy is the least you can do to try to make their day (and maybe subvert their ideas about yet another clueless tourist that they need to ‘deal’ with). There’s about four essays behind that idea with lots of Zingerman’s Service and Rick Steves’ Travel as a Political Act references, but those are for another time.
If nothing else, these Market Moves are a good start for anyone who is heading to a market this weekend. What were the spoils of my early-morning trip you ask? Charcuterie, of course. Lots of bits and bobs, to be honest - some very middling madelines, a couple cheeses I haven’t cracked into quite yet, a very interesting sobrasada, and a delightfully vinegary salade du joue - that’s a chilled salad of braised pork cheeks with cooked peppers. I jazzed it up with a little piment d’Espelette and spicy olive oil with some riffles the other day. Check it out here:
As you can see - I’m not buying boatloads of product, just enough to get a taste and a good variety of what’s going on that day, of that season, of that particular market. It’ll be different next month; different produce carefully stacked, different music on the earbuds, the same hang-arounds at the bar.
It’ll be the same, but different. All over the world.
Oh, and if you’ve made it this far, you probably are wondering about that special red tile in Pike Place Market and the steaming bag of Jumbo Drumsticks I’ve got clutched in my eight year old hands. It bears the name of one of my forefathers, and one of my namesakes, set into the fabric of Seattle, forever. Lorenzo Colello. I’ll come back to Pike Place later on, this is too good of a place to stop this story.
If you dig what I’m doing, please drop me a note and / or send this piece along to one of your friends. I’m just getting started with this piece of things from France and every little bit helps. I’m keeping things free for the time being, but the more formalized documentation of charcuterie and foodways will eventually fall behind a paywall, as a heads up.
If you’d like to come to France to work with me and surely go to more than a few markets, check out my in-person workshops here:
https://www.thecharcuterieproject.com/
Thanks very much,
Nathan Colello Gilmour
Wonderful Nathan!
Cliff hanger on the hot drumsticks…😄
I look forward to reading more!
I so enjoyed reading these reflections on making the most of a market visit. Especially since I was at the Victor Hugo market for the first time just a few weeks ago, have a few similar photos in my collection (that duck confit!). And I live in the home of Pike Place Market, also a huge fan of getting there early, taking it in while the market day's just getting rolling.....