Markets are magic.
They’re noisy, busy and vital. They’re dynamic and vibrant.
Abundant.
My first memory is of a market. Eating a banana in my buggy as my mum pushed me through Surrey Street in Croydon.
I can still remember the smells. The colours. The cries of the vendors in their South London accents.
‘Apples! Apples! Lovely apples! Twenny five pee a paaaaahnd!’
The thing about markets is that they work.
They work because, unlike the conventional food system - operated by the supermarkets and their pals in Big Food, they give both producers and customers agency.
Producers pitch up with what they’ve grown, caught or made - and they set the prices. They decide what they need to charge in order to make a living.
And customers – you and me – turn up, take a look at their produce and decide if we want to buy.
It’s simple. It’s transparent. It’s how food should be bought and sold.
From the people who produce it. To the people who eat it.
Selon le marché.
Nick