Just off the Strada Libertatii – turn right out of the train station, walk to and cross the bridge over the river ,a is a little further down on the left – you will find Sighisoara’s daily food market.
Villagers come by foot, car & horse drawn carriages to buy and sell produce, cheeses, meats, seasonal fruits, vegetables and scrumptious sweet and savory preserves!
Among the many highlights the jars of tomato juice called ‘bulion’ which make a tasty base for pasta sauces. Preserved cherries, peaches and other fruits are often on sale during the harvest months. If you don’t see any of the jars of fruit about, ask anyone for ‘compot’ and they will point you to a seller.
This market is an old-world experience in itself, genuine and uninterrupted for centuries
11:00am – 8:00pm Monday – Friday
9:00am – 6:00pm Saturday and Sunday
The Blue Ribbon Market, not the cafe, is a little place in the west village where you can find some of the best breads this city has to offer; including flavored ciabattas (arugula, rosemary…), country breads, baguettes, rye, 9 grains…. some of them with organic alternatives.
They also have a wonderful selection of Mexican raw honey, with flavors like: Mesquite Blossom, Autumn Flower, Veracruz Orange, MT Mexteca and Golden Reserve
Seasoned salts, flavored sugars, cheese and eggs from local farms, pickles, smoked fish olive oil , the best baklava ever with made real honey…. and now the selection really begins to fill out.
Prepared open toasts with all sort of toppings like honey and manchego cheese, or herring and pickled onions are just a bonus – try to have with one of their daily soups.
But beyond all the tantalizing foods and top quality ingredients, once again we find service is king. The staff here is ALWAYS on top of their game and easy with a smile. This is one of the places that makes you feel great about spending your money there.
Entering the market of Basurto in Cartagena is like stepping off the edge of society and dropping into the abyss of humanity. Inside one finds all aspects of our species; from destructive abundance of the fish fields- with machetes raining down, flashing, sending scales scattering, raindrops smattering on your feet – To the endless aisles of fresh vegetables softly lofting their sweet smells, purging the air of the impurities imposed by the countless butcher blocks and their carcass stench. And the heat, one can never forget the heat.
A respite is grabbed in the shadows aside a mountain of peppers, in the shadow of the mountains of dill, cilantro, leeks and yerba buena. Scattered between and ringed around these bales of sustinance destined for the bellies of a million souls, one finds, well, everything and anything: Pots, keys, sting blenders and Rosaries; Mangos and hammers, Summer skirts and shock absorbers – and everywhere there is people – Gesticulating, selling, buying, story telling, people. Men with fish, boys pushign wooden carts for tips, old men packing charcoal and woman brewing witches pots of stew .. It is only the elasticity of the human minds cushions the shock of Basurto!
One navigates the labyrinth of this old world market and knows that they are inside the engine that the rest of the world is powered by.