Stalls and Stories: My Weekly Marché

What a gift it is to live half a block from an open marché/market. I wake up on a Wednesday morning knowing that I can have fresh fish for dinner, poulet rôti for lunch – all accomopanied by fresh vegetables, and fresh flowers next to my bed. I’ve lived in Paris for 12 years and I’ve never had a marché this close, close enough that it has become a part of my week. I keep my rolling caddy in my kitchen and haul it out each Wednesday after I’ve had a cup of coffee and my breakfast.

In the Bay Area where I used to live, there was a Sunday morning market that took up one block, stalls on the sidewalk on both sides of the street. Artists would also take advantage and, at last count, half the stalls were not food related. I was reminiscing about that market and how different it is from my small market down the block. In my neighborhood, the stalls push up against each other, no space in-between except the designated walkways to move from one aisle to the next. The small Place Jean Lorrain houses two fish markets, two cheese markets, two flower stalls, seven vegetable stands-one is Bio, two delis, two boucheries, a rotisserie, two specialty stands—one nuts and dried fruit, the other pre-made meals like Paella, and of course, two patisseries.

If you were to stand in Place Jean Lorrain at any other time of the week, you wouldn’t believe that that many stalls and stands can fit. They do. On Wednesdays, it is a manageable errand for an exPat like me who likes space, is slightly claustrophobic, and wants to get in and out. On Saturday mornings, when all the people who work explode on the scene, there are long lines for the favorite stalls. The French are used to it. They even bring dogs. Old folk use canes. Somehow there are no accidents, no screaming matches or bad humor (if there is, the person keeps it to themselves). 

Holes have been drilled into the cement ground. The night before each marché, workers from the 16th arrondissement come and put up the poles that will house the stalls. Sometime in the early wee hours, cloth overhangings are installed. The marché will go on no matter the weather.

I tried to find some history and there isn’t much. The square itself is named for Jean Lorrain (1855-1906) who lived nearby. Before 1930, It was known as Place de la Fontaine, whose water was prized by King Louis XV when he resided in his nearby Château du Coq. In the middle of the square, you can see a Wallace fountain which works.

I’ve established a pattern in the fourteen months I have lived in this quartier. I rarely go on Saturday mornings. By 9:30am, it is too crowded for me. Wednesday morning is my time. I can go at 8:30am or 11:30 and I rarely have to stand in line.

My first stop is the rôtisserie where I buy my cuisse de poulet rôti. My ‘friend’ with longish blond hair, usually held back in a pony tail, greets me with a big smile. “Ça va?” she will ask me. “I’m great,” I respond and ask her how she is. On Saturdays she has four helpers. Today she mans the stall with one. The chicken is roasted, as only the French can do, in a large upright roaster that is brought in in the morning and taken away at 2pm.

She makes fresh ratatouille and on days when I want to treat myself, I will buy some. I have to eat it that day or the next or it goes bad. I found that out the hard way!

From there, I walk to one of the fish markets. There is always a line so the earlier the better. Each type of fish has a small sign with the price and where it comes from. Seasonality is important so a fish out of season will either not be available or priced very high. The poissonnier will clean, cut, do whatever is asked, even give you tips on the best way to cook. I’m slowly working my way through the fish that look interesting. My repertoire at the moment is salmon, monkfish and cabillaud. 

I fill up my caddy with all the fruit and vegetables I need then meander to the flower mart. I purchase fresh flowers every week. The stall is run by a family. The son is there every Wednesday along with a woman who may or may not be his wife. Last Wednesday, for some reason, I pulled out my phone and showed her a photo of Bijou. She immediately picked her phone up and showed me her two adorable cats.

When catnip is available, I buy some for Bijou. Last week, I bought pansies to plant on my terrace to have some color during the long Paris winter.

Well, it’s Wednesday so I’m grabbing my caddy and heading out. 

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A bientôt

Sara