Once in the Upper School at the Anglo-American School in Moscow, we were taken on a class trip every Spring for 10 days somewhere within the Soviet Union.  One year we visited the then Central Asian republics of Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, and Kazakhstan. Another year we were in Georgia and Armenia. On every trip we were taken to the local markets and I remember falling in love with the stark contrast these markets were to those in Moscow. The ladies wore bright flowered dresses with their plastic shoes, the men had sun-worn faces and often a mouth full of gold teeth. Still muddy and cold and wet with occasional flurries in Moscow, these Southern republics offered us glorious sunshine, beautiful Islamic architecture with blue tiles that competed for attention with the blue skies. People were friendly, not surly as Muscovites tended to be, and they were eager to have us peruse their stalls. Their markets were outdoors and filled with produce you’d never find up North, still a lot of pickles, but simply as a condiment to accompany the carrots and beetroot and fennel and lettuces and herbs and spinach and beans and peas and chards! I didn’t really cook back then but something about being in a market always made me feel closer to the people and their lives.

Since those days way back when, my obsession with markets has only grown. In Paris I’m absolutely fiendish in locating the nearest street market to wherever I’m staying and wandering through on market days to see what’s being sold. I also adore Paris’s permanent market streets with their mix of stalls and small specialty shops. The only time I’ve ever really needed to shop for food in Paris was when I worked for the Millers (remember my Gunnerside people??) at their house on the Ille St. Louis one June. I was Mrs. Miller’s chef while she spent several weeks in Paris visiting friends, shopping, and attending the haute couture week fashion shows. I spent hours running around the city trying to locate this that and the other for her evening soirees, happy I’d familiarised myself with Parisian-style shopping on my previous trips. I quickly learned that you never pick your own fruits and vegetables at a green grocer for fear of sharp reprimand and to be prepared to take your time and have a little conversation with the shopkeeper.

In London I favoured our local Queen’s Park farmers’ market on Sundays as I found Borough Market less about people who are actually cooking and more about grabbing tourist Dollars. I did a video piece for NBC’s Today Show just before the 2012 London Olympics about a little off-shoot of Borough Market called Maltby Street. It’s little stalls located in the arches underneath the railway tracks was a charming place for up and coming producers and farmers to share their wares. Little coffee shops with beautiful morning buns and tapas restaurants and bakeries and  I see now they have a very fancy website and I’m sure in the 10 years since I’ve been it’s no longer the upstart that it was.  I’m remembering now writing several posts back then (I've shared the Maltby Street one here) about the markets of East London. 

When we moved to Amman in 2015, there weren’t as really farmers’ markets, there were locations around the city which on Saturdays sold products you’d find at a market if there had been one. For example Nisreen Haram of Mistika Dairy (see my post on her here) had open mornings where you could go and taste her products in her kitchen and buy what you liked. I was told there had been attempts at a proper market but they’d failed. However, I loved going downtown to the old proper working market and getting lost in the aisles of produce and meat. I always adored the big spice displays which reminded me of visiting the spice markets in Marrakesh (my sister offered a guy my hand in marriage in exchange for 2 camels at one spice shop there). And I often found myself stopping on the side of the road on the way to Jerash in the North of Jordan, when I’d see vegetable and fruit sellers offering the latest of the season, grown mostly in the fertile and hot Jordan Valley, out of the back of their trucks. 

On my very first visit to Lebanon, before we’d moved there in 2016, I made sure we’d be there on a Saturday so I could see Souk el Tayeb (which translates to "market of deliciousness"). It was held in the Beirut Souks downtown under the shadow of the most beautiful yellow stone shell of a building. The white umbrellas and the tables covered in green and white gingham were cheerful and I couldn’t wait to explore. Beautiful stands filled with seasonal produce were mixed in with jams, olives, preserves of all sort. Nuts, honey, flowers, chillis. I was immediately struck by the immense bounty and variety this little Mediterranean country with it's many micro-climates had and couldn't wait to ask lots of questions about how this or that ingredient was used. The sellers were friendly and helpful and I decided right then and there, based pretty much on this alone, that I could and should live in Beirut. 

My visits to Souk el Tayeb throughout the years we lived in the city were always regular and when I started consulting for restaurants I tried my best to impress upon the kitchens that a weekly, early-morning visit to the market was the best way to get inspired for new dishes. I don’t think this philosophy really carried much weight with most chefs I worked with, but nonetheless, I always went for inspiration and to talk and learn from the producers, often developing friendships with them that led to me visiting their farms or dairies or workshops. Over time I got to know Kamal Mouzawak, the founder of the Souk and learned his story (you can read my interview with him here) and the work he'd put in to help the farmers and producers of Lebanon showcase their talents. Beirut is a small city and often I'd run into friends or clients at the Souk, stop for a saj (a beautiful wrapped sandwich) at Em Ali's stand, gossip a little bit before heading back up the hill to the Achrafieh neighborhood where we lived.  When I had my kitchen atelier I offered tours of the Souk, talking about what ingredients were in season and what you might do with them before picking what we'd like to cook and eat before doing so back in my space.