A tale of two markets

I’m traveling a little these days.  Right now I’m in Copenhagen after having spent a few days in Leeds in my true love’s flat.  One thing these two cities have in common is weather – both are damp, rainy, and chilly, with temperatures around 13C (55F).  I’m not sure I don’t like this more than the summer in October weather I left in Philadelphia.

Another thing they both have in common, as do all European cities I’ve visited, are markets. And, as you know, I love markets.  However, Leeds’ and Copenhagen’s markets couldn’t be more different from each other.

Kirkgate Market in Leeds touts itself as the world’s largest indoor market.  That could very well be true because the place is enormous and the building is supplemented by a large paved area to the rear for weekend flea markets.  On the other hand, Kirkgate (pronounced approximately like Kerr-get) is about two-thirds empty, a mixture of unoccupied stalls and large open spaces.

It is also the antithesis of a foodie space.  Kirkgate (aka Leeds City Markets) is a working market serving a declining working class population.  The roots of the market lay in an open air market that began operating in 1822.  As Leeds grew, the market grew, was covered, and helped this burgeoning Yorkshire town prosper. Late is the 19th century Leeds became a full-fledged city and wanted appropriately stupendous buildings to trumpet its status. The glorious Victorian Kirkgate that opened in 1904 is the result.

At it’s peak, the market had hundreds of stalls selling everything, from fish and fruit to furniture and furbelows. The iconic Marks and Spencer was born here as a penny-stand. Yet changes in Leeds’ economic fortunes in the post-WWII era, a fire in 1975, changes in Leeds’ demographics, and high quality completion from food stores like Sainsburys, Tescos, and (ironically) Marks and Spencer have caused a decline in the market’s fortunes.

Today, there are a half-dozen great fishmongers selling their jewels from the North Sea, a handful of wonderful and entertaining butchers, a couple of greengrocers, a florist, a baker, a poultry purveyor, and another couple dozen stalls selling a variety of products to Leeds’ declining population of older, non-professionals, what foodies may exist in Leeds, and the occasional tourist (like me). It has recently been extensively rehabbed and is visually gorgeous. In a way, it is a wonderful piece of history whose time may have passed.

Torvehallen in Copenhagen couldn’t be more different.  For one thing, in terms of grandeur it can’t hold a candle to Kirkgate.  Instead of a magnificent Victorian edifice, there’s a one story glass and polished metal shed – I can’t come up with any better word.  Instead of an interior inspired by the 19th century London World’s Fairs, there are clean, unbroken, squared lines in a space dominated by clean, blond wood.  The total market space consists of two of these glass sheds separated by an open air produce market, so it’s a lot smaller than Kirkgate too.

It was also quite crowded during mid afternoon on a damp, chilly October day.

When I think of the word “fishmonger,” I think of the stalls in Leeds. Great piles of whole fish, shellfish, and filets piled high and deep on beds of ice.  Torvehallen has a few fish dealers and they have some whole fish, shellfish, and filets on plates of shaved ice, artfully set off with tufts of seaweed. They also have prepared dishes for shoppers to cook (or reheat) at home and some add a few pieces of sushi.  Some even have a few tables and sell accompanying drinks  to customers who want a snack.

The same thing is true for the butchers where you can buy a sirloin or artisanal sausages or meals to cook at home. Right about there, though, the commonalities end. Just a quick random sampling of merchants include artisanal beer, a knife craftsman, several patisseries (with the product obviously made off-premises), artisanal whiskies and spirits, kitchen goods, and our favorite, a Danish smorresbørd where we bought and ate the delicacies to the left.  This is definitely a foodie space and as with many foodie spaces, the distinctions among buying, sampling, and eating can get pretty blurry.

There are some other distinctions of note.  One concerns the customers.  I shopped at Kirkgate on Tuesday at lunchtime and visited Torvehallen on Wednesday afternoon.  They may have had the same number of customers even though Torvehallen is 1/5th the size.  For what it’s worth, the average age of the customers in Leeds was about my age (which I’m not about to divulge).  Some older, some younger, some about the same.  In Copenhagen, I was definitely on the senior end of the spectrum.

Finally, the prices.  I’ll just give you one example, but it should suffice. According to the signage for the fish at the left, mackerel is 49 DKK for 1/2 kg, or $7 lb.  At Kirkgate the day before, it was the equivalent of $4 lb.

Not that I recommend shuttling across the North Sea to save $3 lb for mackerel, mind you…