It is one of those things that you either love or hate: doing grocery shopping. And I am without doubt one of those people who is not a big fan of it. At least, I used to be. Because I am so happy to finally be able to say that after all these years, it’s changing.
The reason for this giant change in my life and the fact that I can barely contain my enthusiasm when I grab the shopping bag from the coat rack, is not only due to the fact that we have been in complete lockdown for a week already and this is one of the few legitimate reasons to set foot outside
And that, of course, did not just happen. The reason for this giant change in my life and the fact that I can barely contain my enthusiasm when I grab the shopping bag from the coat rack, is not only due to the fact that we have been in complete lockdown for a week already and this is one of the few legitimate reasons – along with taking a run which is not exactly my favourite activity either – to set foot outside. No, it has everything to do with the fact that right in front of my new house, where I have been living for about three weeks, sits a beautiful market that has given a whole new dimension to the phenomenon of doing grocery shopping.
When I don’t make a shopping list, I will probably end up buying everything in the shop except those three things I actually went to get
When I go to the supermarket, I feel completely overwhelmed by all the choice, so I always leave the store with the exact same things. When I don’t make a shopping list, I will probably end up buying everything in the shop except those three things I actually went to get. I never seem to be able to find a thing, so I find myself walking around the shop endlessly to then bother an employee to ask for help. You’d think I would have discovered the joy of a market a long time ago, but somehow markets for me were more like a holiday thing where I could wander around endlessly, which I always enjoy a lot.
Ever since the second time I went there, they know me. And I know them
But now I live right opposite this beautiful market. Every day except Sunday they are in business. From the balcony, I can see the flowers on display, hear the vendors shouting at each other, and see the old ladies shuffling towards the stalls with their shopping bags on wheels (who hasn’t tripped over one?). Ever since the second time I went there, they know me. And I know them. I go to Patrizio for my fruit and vegetables, to Carla for eggs, to the Indian man whose name I do not know for spices and to Maria to get fish. And then there are the sweet ladies of the bread stall (the typical Roman pizza bianca is my latest addiction), the girl of the wine that you extract directly from the large barrels and the various butchers who always cheerfully (and loudly) yell buongiorno! when they see me.
I don’t really need to make a shopping list myself anymore, because while Patrizio is putting my kiwis in a paper bag and I’m shaking my head in response to his question whether that was all, he looks at me like I have no idea what I’m saying or doing
Apart from the fact that there is so much more love, attention and time spent on the products at the market compared to the supermarket goods, there are a few other reasons why I never want anything else than doing my shopping at an Italian market. For example, I don’t really need to make a shopping list myself anymore, because while Patrizio is putting my kiwis in a paper bag (my regular purchase: I’ve been having a kiwi for breakfast every day for almost ten years) and I’m shaking my head in response to his question whether that was all, he looks at me like I have no idea what I’m saying or doing. “So, you have lemons at home already?”, he asks. Eh, no. Shaking his head in disbelief, he puts two in a bag, “so that wasn’t all. And tomatoes?” Oh, oops, I also don’t have any of them anymore. And no, this is absolutely not a cunning trick to boost his own sales. An Italian is simply deeply worried when there is no lemon or tomato to be found in the house.
I needed scampi for ravioli? Impossible. We were not going to do that, is what Maria from the fish stall told me while she shook her head
I also love the way the Italians get involved in what I prepare in the kitchen, convinced of their own expertise thanks to all this knowledge that has been passed down from generation to generation. Last Tuesday, I was invited to attend an online master class on ‘making ravioli’ by thé Pasta Master of the Benelux. She had sent me a carefully compiled shopping list, and all I had to do was to collect the ingredients at the market. However, that did not happen without some commotion. I needed scampi for ravioli? Impossible. We were not going to do that, is what Maria from the fish stall told me while she shook her head. She would give me gamberetti (in my mind, the two are exactly the same and after five minutes of her trying to explain why you can’t use scampi in ravioli but you can use gamberetti, I still didn’t understand the difference). And wait, I had to peel them myself during the workshop? Maria burst out laughing spontaneously and could hardly hide the little faith she had in my peeling skills. Immediately, she instructed her companion at the market stall to do the work for me. I also needed pine nuts, tomatoes, white wine, parsley, sage, an organic lemon, type 0.0 flour, eggs, olive oil and a few other things. And whichever stall I went to, the shopping list was snatched from my hands, looked at with a frown, said a thing or two about it (a parsley pesto? What was this supposed to be, a pesto all’olandese?) and then, with a mixture of doubt about my cooking skills and pride about the steps I was taking in the Italian kitchen, the products were handed to me.
When, on Thursday, I decided to try the typical Roman vegetable cicoria for the first time, I only had to walk to the market and mention it. The rest went by itself
And that’s how it has been going every single day. When, on Thursday, I decided to try the typical Roman vegetable cicoria for the first time, I only had to walk to the market and mention it. The rest went by itself. The lemon and garlic that I needed for this dish were handed to me immediately, while I was dictated the precise instructions on how to prepare the cicoria, including an illustrative background story on the poor man’s dish and how the old nonna’s of Rome used to go to the parks with their baskets to collect the wild cicoria.
Thanks to the Italian market and its colourful people, I will never find myself without those essential life things as lemons again. Plus, I only have to cross the street to get an answer to the question: what to have for lunch and dinner today?
By now you probably have understood that my trips to the supermarket have become a thing of the past as much as possible. Because, thanks to the Italian market and its colourful people, I will never find myself without those essential life things as lemons again. Plus, I only have to cross the street to get an answer to the question: what to have for lunch and dinner today? And as long as we are in lockdown, I also have the very best excuse to still go outside every day. A real market girl, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
HELLO!! all this is fantastic, your enthusiasm is fantastic, I am really hopeful that in the near future there could be more and more people pervaded by the fact that the quality of life (of food, of friendship, of enjoying every moment of the present …) does not depend by money or power. I really hope to see a new generation that capitalizes on the importance of our environment and I am not referring only to the green economy but to create a new economic model on a human scale that puts an end to large-scale distribution, obsolete and polluting industry models. Easyperates of e-commerce that no longer leave us any added value but that only create disparities and environmental damage. p.s.: the project is moving forward, not a little slowly, but it is moving forward .. a hug and good Rome always, the magical city!