Saint George's Market
Since I got off the damn plane here, people have been telling me to hit up St. George's Market. From the descriptions I was given, it sounded like a big fancy farmers market. I do love my farmers markets, so I thought I'd eventually give it a go. But I've been here for four weeks now, and the more I tell the locals I haven't been yet, the more upset they get. So I planned a trip this morning with my new friends Maria and George and we headed off to market. Behold:
Most towns I've lived in just take over a parking lot or close down main street for a few hours, but St. George has its own dedicated building. Respect. The smell was fantastic so we hurried inside where we were greeted by craft tables. Which are nice. But they are not food. I politely looked at the crafts and moved on. A few stalls down we encountered the first food booths. Fresh fruit and vegetables straight from the farm, fresh meats, freshly baked breads, hell, even a giant booth full of raw herbs and spices. I was blown away. This wasn't some quaint little Irish farmers market. It was like an underground Foodie black market that sold weapons-grade ingredients and fresh take away. My first find of the day:
10 points for Gryffindor if you spotted it. You shall not pass, son! At least not until you buy the wabbit. Which I did. I haven't a freaking clue how to cook wild rabbit, but it will be fun to try. There will be a post on that, so fear not. Also available was the seafood straight off the boat. Observe and weep:
After getting my rabbit and some other fresh meat, we were feeling a bit peckish, so we headed to this amazing looking Cuban sandwich stall with smells coming from it that could have lulled the pied piper himself. Damn fool always playing jazz flute... Anywho. The sandwiches looked amazing and smelled even better. I know, I know, you want to see the picture. There isn't one. There also wasn't a sandwich. Not for me, anyway, because the line was a half mile long. And I had ten pounds of meat I was carrying. Pro tip: buy your meat last so you don't spend an hour hauling it around like a jackass. We did, however, have the opportunity to get a traditional Belfast Bap. A Belfast Bap is sausage, bacon (not wimpy American bacon), and a fried egg on a giant roll (the bap). Here are our baps being made:
Another ten points for Gryffindor if you spotted the free-range eggs. You'd better be reading this, Tweet. You nerd. After sitting down outside on the street and eating our baps, we headed back inside where Maria got fresh flowers, of which there is no picture because flowers are not food (one word about how flowers ARE food and you get punched in the throat). I ran off to get fresh vegetables for tonight's risotto (yes, there will be a post). Here is one of the stands serving fresh veggies:
As we made our way out, I was struck again by the artisan quality of so much of the food there, and I weep a bit for the supermarkets that have become our way of life. Sure, it's more convenient. But I think we're losing something. Just look at this small cupcake business, where art truly meats food:
Please take a minute to appreciate. I certainly did. All in all, I really enjoyed the trip. I'm pretty sure I'll make a monthly go of it. The ingredients for foodie stuff alone are worth getting up early on the weekend. And I'll sure as hell be back for one of them Cuban sandwiches. Foodies never die. That is all.