For me, the Marché Jean-Talon is the ur-market. The first time I visited Jean-Talon, in Montreal's Little Italy, was in August of 2007. I had taken the train up to Montreal for a few days to visit a friend who was living there, and we went out there to pick up some produce for our dinner. Jean-Talon in August is a sight to see: vegetables for miles; everything big (the vegetables are bigger in Canada because of the long hours of sunlight in summer - it’s true!) and bright and bursting. The colors: green, obviously, but so many shades of green! And red, of course, but also purple and yellow, and orange. Buckets of red and yellow tomatoes; of green, orange and yellow peppers; of purple and pale green and golden and white cauliflower. The most beautiful mushrooms, of every variety from white to golden to earthy brown. And berries: strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries. A giant tub of ground cherries is $20 Canadian. And let’s not forget the plants and flowers. Potted pepper plants with tiny red chilis, basil, rosemary, and other herbs I couldn’t identify. Bunches of dried purple, orange, and yellow flowers.
Since that first visit, I’ve made a point to go to Marché Jean-Talon every time I’ve gone to Montreal. It’s the largest permanent open air market in North America, though obviously the selection shrinks dramatically in the Quebecois winter. In the summer, the market stands selling produce extend well outside the structure, but in winter, the central part of the market remains open, the bakers and butchers and cheesemongers still open for business, and a scaled back outdoor market with whatever is in season (or whatever never goes out of season). I’ve also sought out Montreal’s other markets. None is as impressive as Jean Talon, of course, but each has its charm and sensibility.
Perhaps Jean-Talon opened my eyes to markets as a concept. While New York has a few nominal markets (the Essex Street Market, which I never visited in its traditional hey day; the Chelsea Market, which feels too segmented into shops to be a proper market; and the glut of food halls that have made homes in the city overy the past few years), there has never seemed to me to be a market culture here. The Union Square green market, and some of its smaller counterparts, are perhaps the closer comparisons, but unlike at the Montreal markets or the ones I’ve visited since in other parts of the world, you should expect to pay more at our green markets than you would if you bought the food elsewhere -- admittedly, for higher quality food. (This is perhaps a peculiarity of American farming and food costs, which I don’t know much about, but have heard anecdotally from many European visitors that our food seems to them outrageously expensive. And I, on the flip side, am always struck at how inexpensive food is when I travel.) Or maybe it’s just New York. When I lived in Boston, I remember going to Haymarket on Saturday mornings. There, the produce is dirt cheap (and often on its last legs). My father, who lives in Philadelphia, does the bulk of his shopping at the Italian market, where he might pay $1 for a bucket of tomatoes or peppers. The Italian market.
The first time I visited Palermo, in 2015, I got a little map of the city which showed each of the city’s three main markets and the specialties of each: the Mercato di Ballarò, the city’s oldest market; the Mercato il Capo, where you can buy clothes and cell phone accessories alongside your vegetables; and the Vucciria night market for street food. Having by this time visited many markets, I was expecting a market structure, if not a fully enclosed space. I walked up to the Mercato di Ballarò, along the streets lined with vendors, wondering where the main market was. I turned north and walked toward the Mercato il Capo, and then as I approached the Porta Carini, past roughly constructed tables heaped with vegetables and fruits, with tarps stretched overhead, I saw the prototype for the Philadelphia Italian market. How had I failed to recognize it? The Italian market indeed.
Elsewhere in Italy, I’ve seen enclosed markets and covered markets with market stalls. In Grassano, in the hills of Basilicata, I stopped in the Mercato Coperto di Piazza della Libertà, a small, rather ugly indoor market with vegetable stalls, butchers, a fish stall, and a couple alimentari stalls. It was mid-morning on a weekday and the market was quiet, with only about half the stalls open for business. I went in to use the restroom, but paused on my way to have a look around. If I ever want to feel down about American food culture, I need just remind myself that in a backwater Italian town of 5,000, you can walk into the dingy little market in the town center and have at your fingertips all the varieties of cheeses, the cured meats, the fresh meats, the olives, the oil, everything you could wish for, and whatever produce is in season. It breaks my heart.
In Venice, where square footage on land is scarce, the Mercato di Rialto takes over the space under the tall arches of a building that’s raised one level up (ground floors are risky in Venice anyway) and runs right up to the canal side. Though distinctly Venetian in form, right down to the ogee arch on the windows of the upper level, the market hall is reminiscent of the petites halles market structures found in many a French village. The market in Mirepoix, in Ariège, is on Mondays in one of these structures. It sits directly across from the church on one side of the town center, but the market stalls - couverts - continue under the arcades that go fully around the central square.
Marché Jean-Talon has been around for less than a century, while the market in Mirepoix has been going for hundreds of years. But you can see the latter reflected in the former. The style of the market is very French. But situated, as it is, in the heart of Montreal’s Italian community, that influence is there as well. Many of the shops that surround the market sell Italian specialty items. Maybe that’s part of what makes it so special for me. It’s a market of the new world, and the first market I fell in love with.
