Paris' Edgar Quinet Market

Located behind the busy Boulevard Montparnasse celebrated for its famous cafés, is the Edgar Quinet market. Every Wednesday and Saturday morning the boulevard’s quiet, central tree-lined alley transforms into a lively, animated meeting place.

Saturday is the busiest and best day to explore it. Even in the late autumn, leaves still cling to the trees overhead and the cooler weather yields a rich selection of food and goods forgotten during the heat of summer. Everything from olives and exotic spices to fresh seafood and cashmere scarves to ward off the cold winds is for sale.

As it is one of my local markets, I know which vendors have the best produce, but a good clue for the newcomer is a queue. An orderly line is rare in Paris where they don’t even queue for the bus, and it is a sure sign of superior quality merchandise.

Polished chestnuts, and fresh walnuts that stain my hands when I peel them, sit beside huge tan-skinned Cinderella pumpkins, scrubbed celeriac topped with bright green leaves, and fuzzy quince, direct from the orchard.  I even spy a box of pale caterpillar-shaped crosnes, but the price tells me it is still early in the season. All these ingredients partner naturally with game, and there is no shortage here. Whole rabbits and hares, hang with limbs of wild boar and game birds in full feather, from the colourful awnings, but as I am invited for dinner, I buy only the celeriac to make soup.

Displays of seafood always draw me in; large turbots, orange spotted plaice, and shiny, blue striped mackerel resting on ice, looking as if they’d been swimming only moments ago. There are bags of mussels, fresh scallops in the shell and piles of cooked langoustine all making my head spin with recipe ideas.  Then, a box of dark, spiky sea urchin with one cut open to reveal its edible, orange interior, catches my eye. I treat myself and un cadeau of parsley and lemon is tucked into my parcel.

While the fishmongers offer oysters, I prefer a dedicated oyster seller for mine. I simply tell the vendor my preference is for the plump speciales rather than the lean claires, remembering that the bigger the number the smaller the oyster. For a little extra, they’ll open them, but I’ve an oyster knife at home so I’ll keep these beauties for Sunday lunch.

Waves of immigrants have stamped their mark on Paris markets and Edgar Quinet is no exception. Here Italians sell fresh pasta and buffalo mozzarella, the Portuguese offer salt cod and custard tarts, while the Lebanese make flat breads sprinkled with za’atar to order. Immigrants from the former colonies of North Africa, the Caribbean and Asia, all offer tastes of their homeland.

The smell of garlic and roasting meats pulls toward the stalls selling prepared foods. Large pans of homemade lentils with salt pork, choucroute garni, and paella tempt as my appetite sharpens. There are roast chickens, various pork cuts, sausages and the potatoes cooked in their drippings are had to resist. Summing up all my willpower, I buy just one crisp, crunchy pig’s ear, I’ll have it for lunch with a salad.

Amidst the bustle of shoppers and tourists, an elderly gentleman plays an old-fashioned music box, so I stop to listen. He feeds in pierced cardboard sheets with the aid of a crank and the music is so archetypal French that I expect the ghost of Edith Piaf to appear and sing along.

The Edgar Quinet market engages all my senses; it is a quintessentially Parisian experience.

CELERIAC AND CEP SOUP

Check out one of my favourite restaurants on boulevard Edgar Quinet called La Cerisaie.