Sunday, June 15, 2008

from somewhere in Paris, by the river Marne: week-end market

First, let me put it right here: to all dads, especially to the best of the lot (yes, you!) – happy father’s day.

069 copyFD

Were you a dad in France, you could well be treated with cakes and champagne, and a bouquet of flowers would sit festively in the middle of your table.

062 copyFD

065 copyFD

003 copy

All, of course, purchased at or around the market.

Saturday, the Parisian village where I live (okay, it has a name: Champignol, which is part of the larger Ville de Saint-Maur-des-Fosses, which in turn is part of Paris; now you see why I avoid naming it) has its big market. Everyone who was selling on Wednesday is here, but there are many others.

Aurore tells me – go at 11. People come together then to shop and to talk.


A visit to the market is my only activity this day and so you have this to keep you happy: people coming together over white asparagus and orange melon and cheese. (I bought all three.)

006 copy

012 copy

004 copy

028 copy

029 copy

You may as well make the acquaintance of my cheese man (and his wife). Because I don’t dare go to anyone else. He is nice to me and I am nice right back. It’s not hard – he has a wonderful selection.

017 copy

And this is how it works in these Parisian-village markets: they roam from Parisian village to Parisian village so that if you go from one to the other, you’ll meet your favorite vendors again. Some sell only a few products from their own backyard, but the vast majority present foods from a number of growers (most from France, but in seafood – some from Madagascar and in some fruits – Spain’s there as well; it’s easy to tell – most foods have place of origin clearly marked; if it’s French, it comes with an exclamation mark!).

So, I leave you with a bouquet for this holiday. Cleverly presented with roses and berries. Simple and sweet and so very pretty.

013 copy2