To Market, To Market

So we've all been to a local market. We have all seen how strange and wonderful cultures spruce up our local fruits and vegetables with their own. And maybe you've even ventured to Chinatown to see an authentic market, laden with their own product, void of any boring old peppers and apples. Or you've been to the Hamilton Market downtown, and have seen the vast expanses of cheese (mmm...Sam's Meat and Cheese...god, the cheese here is so gross), pork (mmm...bacon....pork here is a bit different too. What I wouldn't give for a pound [yes, pound] of bacon right now), and fish. But note one thing: the place is either quite cool to preserve the veg, or the animal product is safely a) behind glass or b) on ice or c) in a cooler. As Paul the Cheft told me from Papagayo, always smell fish before buying it, so I'm open to touching and smelling, but this local Korean market was something else, my fine-feathered friends. I couldn't help but applying the Health Canada logo, in hopes that perhaps I will always remember from whence I came and not to buy possibly rancid pork from the market. Mmmm....rancid pork.


The place is really magical. It is as hot as the day is long, riddled with human beings, and full of the most unique product I've ever seen in one place. And though I didn't experiment a LOT with food before leaving (this is a funny point: Laura would laugh and say I was conservative, dad, after eating my signature stirfry, would say I was a radical cook), I do know my fair share about where food comes from, what it is good for, and how to cook it. I know what things are called and really am not shocked when faced with many a new foodstuff.
With that being said, however, I was not prepared for the plethora of seafood that welcomed me there. In North America, I've been spoiled with fish preparation, only having prepped calamari once from scratch (those octopi are pretty, pretty disgusting, friends). I mean, we buy fillets of "white fish" and just accept that this is good. Here though, it is customary to buy the whole fish and debone, skin, and fillet (am I spelling that right?) it yourself at home. And I'm not into that...plus, I wouldn't want to do it wrong.


So the grossest thing was this sea creature...it was about 8 inches long, about the width of rolled out gnocchi before you cut it into dumplings, and had a hole at one end that I recognized from biology class. It is the only hole on the creature...coming and going out the same place. That alone is enough to send me to the hills. So anyway, this thing swims around like a jellyfish almost, propelling itself sideways, moving this uni-hole forward. There are literally about 50 of them, all fighting for something, in a bucket about the size of a large salad bowl. All this happens in about one or two seconds...and I actually had to jump back from replusion at this collection of sea creatures. We took this parasitology class and it looked just like the magnified parasite that causes traveller's diarrhea. Can this GET any worse? I wasn't sticking around to find out.


So then I stumble upon the VAT of meat. I can't be sure if it was beef or pork. It was bloody like red meat, but for the most part, the market seemed to specialize in pig product. Now THIS was a large vat: a red shallow-ish dish that held what I can only guess was about a quarter of a pig. Sure, it was held up off the GROUND, but it was repulsive. I mean, someone call Health Canada. Please. They had plenty of pork product behind glass, in coolers, totally sanitary, but for some reason, these two vendors had these huge containers out in the open, reeking of raw meat. That smell is great when you first buy it, refridgerate it, and want to cook it...but hanging out in the open like that? I almost jumped away from this too. I must say though, the vendors are so loving (strange word, I know) with their product. They gingerly swat away flies such that none actually land on the food (including, thankfully, the Exposed Pork). And no, I didn't take a picture of that. Whoever thought to put that out would certainly not appreciate a photograph of his handywork, thinks I.




Perhaps the most shocking thing of the whole experience was the alleyway of restaurants. Since my mother always told me never to travel down alleys, I was hesitant. But hey, she's far away...I thought I'd risk it :)

On either side of this narrow passageway (not pictured), women sat in small rooms (about 200 square feet, but they were two floors) and prepared food. For the most part, they prepped Korean sausage, which is quite possibly the grossest looking thing ever (imagine what this lookslike before it's cut? I'm shuddering).

They stirfry the pork with cabbage and some greens, and serve customers at tables close to the floor. Patrons leave their shoes at the door. In total, each tiny restaurant could fit about ten to twelve people, but it would be more crowded than Nonna's at Christmas. But it is the sheer number of these restaurants neatly arranged one after the other from the centre of the market out to the street, down this teeny tiny alley.

I didn't buy anything at the market for fear of death, nor did I sit myself down in one of the Alley Eateries. I was much too clausterphobic for that. Perhaps in month two in Asia, I will take my chances and buy some hot meat. Then I had a thought: where in the world do I think the local restaurants buy THEIR pork products? Mmmm...rancid meat.