To her, it's pure theater, completely unlike the hygienic, prepackaged scene at a grocery store. But in far-flung food markets, under canvas awnings, dilapidated domes or the clear blue sky, the squash, string beans, bananas and blood oranges come directly from Mother Earth. A freshly plucked chicken or a burlap bag of rice may be the last thing you want when you're on the road. Food writer Hansen grazes in markets as far afield as Bangkok, Thailand, where she recalls watching a pretty girl prepare a dish of piping hot, utterly authentic Thai noodles. At the covered market in Veracruz, Mexico, she routinely breakfasted on tacos with eggs or guacamole.
Markets are as much about people as they are about food.
On the Hawaiian island of Kauai, I learned how eager people are for reasonably priced fresh produce when I went to a farmers' market in the old sugar plantation town of Koloa. Children and the elderly were allowed in first, followed by the rest of the crowd, which was well-behaved. My favorite market is the one in the Trastevere section of Rome, an old working-class neighborhood across the Tiber River from the city center. Five years ago, through a home exchange, I swapped my New York City apartment for one on Trastevere's Via Natale del Grande for two weeks and got to know the open-air market on the nearby Piazza San Cosimato. Although it lies across the street from a little gem of a 10th-century church, the piazza is nothing much to speak of as Roman piazzas go.