Our feet found their way to the top of the Borough Market stairs. We descended, expectant, into the courtyard surrounded by ancient walls where stallholders were making their first sales and unpacking their crates. I liked it immediately. The joyful spirit is not contrived- the sellers are truly laughing inside, and the customers are curious and giving. The sound of trains rambling loudly over the bridge above adds a sense of surreal drama. You feel as if you are caught in a dry thunderstorm, but with tasty morsels to sample all around you.
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| To curry or not to curry? This is far removed from Cape Towns’ Biscuit Mill market- (a flurry of fashionable woman in bitter heels, leaning up against hay bales and sipping organic strawberry daiquiris on a Saturday morning). We did not come here to be seen. We came here to behold, to taste, and to shop for the week. |
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| Heavily laden with delectable treats |
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| Juicy and nice! 1 pound a slice! |
And behold we did. We saw the first, powdery purple figs from Europe . We saw vegetable treasures- Yellow courgettes and green ones in flower. We saw organic carrots in unimaginable colours. We saw heaps of eggs, and barrels of beer. We saw an array of olives and heartening flowers. We saw tiger tomatoes, green and ruby. Then yellow ones, tiny ones, organ- shaped ones. We saw cheese. We held out our palms for slithers to taste. We ate our way around in a manner that startled us at lunch time (our bellies were already full, you see). We nibbled biscuits, and cakes. We drunk the finest Darjeeling tea. We ate breakfast on the sidewalk- a cherry tart. Oh! It moved us to eat more, to taste more. To buy more ( I confess).
