7 min read · Aug 6, 2021
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It’s widely accepted that English fare isn't high on the list of sought-after cuisines. Fish & Chips with a pint is probably what you think of when it comes to a typical English dish—maybe Bangers & Mash, though Ireland holds a claim on that one, too. Shepard’s Pie, perhaps? Or, my favorite, the Full English Breakfast; which includes, not just eggs and bacon, but fried bread, blood sausage, grilled tomatoes, and baked beans!
Many fine-dining restaurants across the pond are making the push to change this reputation. London is home to 66 Michelin-starred restaurants as of June 2021. However, for the common traveler, a trip to London doesn’t generally include a life-altering culinary experience.
If you’re planning a trip to London, you’re likely including stops at many of the city’s staples. Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Hyde Park, the London Eye, and Tower Bridge are all whimsical sights, worthy of seeing. But for those foodie travelers looking to separate themselves from the routine tour groups, let me advocate for a stroll through Borough Market, conveniently located in the Southwark area, not far from many of the monuments already on your list.
Borough Market was not on my radar during my first trip to London, sadly. My first trip was a blur of Westminster, Oxford Street, and Kensington Gardens. I definitely had fish and chips more than once and, surprisingly, ate some delicious Thai food.
I was lucky enough to stumble upon the market during my second trip, on a day where my plan was, essentially, not to have a plan. If you have the time in your schedule, I highly recommend you dedicate an entire day to intentionally getting lost in a premeditated location; it really allows you to immerse yourself in the culture of the destination and engage with the travel experience — but I digress.
I was on the Tube*, headed to the Southwark area with no plan, ready to begin my exploration. After wandering around Southwark Cathedral I followed some cool street art under a bridge and into Borough Market. The market just revealed itself to me, unfolding as I emerged from the alley. This hub of vendors seemed to twist and turn into one another; it was a glorious, chaotic maze of food.
Full displays of fresh bread and sweet pastries sprawled out in front of me. Various cheeses, cured meats, dips, and jarred sauces scattered tables, shelves, and stands everywhere. To my right, a giant pot labeled “Hot Autumn Juice” contained a simmering liquid with floating fruit. Its warm, sweet scent filled my nose and serenaded me as I gazed at the scene ahead. After taking a few deep breaths and a full panoramic scan…
I proceeded to eat and buy way too much.
First, the vivid, glistening fruit of some mini tarts called to me. I picked the prettiest one I could find and the trader (as they call themselves) asked me if I wanted it packaged or would I be “eating it on my stroll?” —eating it on my stroll, of course!
Almost everyone passing by was shoving something into their mouth with even more bagged-up goodies in tow. I wolfed down my tart in four bites and began to meander through the aisles. I realized that all the delicious temptation ahead of me could be cause for concern and thought seriously about what my strategy should be moving forward.
I spotted a pastry table and the thought of strategy was immediately dismissed.
I made a beeline for the croissants and after the vendor let me sample some of the Turkish delights* I purchased a bag of those, as well. Across the way, another vendor was making some kind of hot meat sandwich and I deflated in remorse as I looked down at my hastily filled hands. I trudged on, licking my fingers of buttery, flakey pastry, my bag of candies hitched to my wrist, and decided to get back on track.
As I walked, I observed. The lines for the premade food were long, a lemonade-looking beverage was popular amongst females my age, and those lucky enough to find a seat with their flimsy, cardboard trays seemed more than satisfied, regardless of their food choices; their half-used napkins crumpled about their tiny tables, faces dripping with the juice of whatever divine snack they had just devoured. My strategy, I decided, would be to stay away from the hot meals and stick with stuff that could travel well.
I bought some sausage sticks and cheese wedges to bring back to my hotel room for an appetizer later. I spent a significant amount of time tasting olive oils, but ultimately settled on a jarred leek mustard to bring home as a unique and delectable souvenir. After about an hour and a half of perusing, my eyes had taunted my stomach long enough, and I allowed myself to buy more ready-to-eat food. Since I’d been around most of the market, I knew exactly what I wanted.
I’m a bread connoisseur, so just the sight of the bread vendor’s endless rolling hills display of fresh loaves and artisan rolls had me glossy-eyed. The sugar-dusted, cream-filled doughnuts and decadently dense fudge brownies had people drooling at the board. I wasn’t there for any of that, though. I had my heart set on this magical mystery loaf I spotted earlier: a round, roast-onion focaccia loaf with green olives, cheese, and fresh rosemary.
When I first saw it I thought it was similar to a personal pizza, but upon further inspection, I realized it was a simple focaccia loaf dressed and stuffed with goodies. Still, I fully intended on eating the whole thing like a personal pizza.
I waited patiently as the man behind the display swiftly and confidently filled the orders of the frantic market patrons around me. When he nodded toward me I just pointed. I handed him my money and he handed me my lunch.
It was as if it happened in slow motion. I paced steadily down a nearby alley, where many other market-goers had made themselves comfortable on the curb. Once I reached an open spot, I plopped down on the sidewalk and ate. Gently, I ripped off pieces of the loaf and let the flavors dissolve in my mouth. The sweet and subtle crunch of the thinly sliced, roasted onion was balanced by the salty, soft-textured, whole green olives, and the rosemary seemed to snuggle all the flavors together in a warm bed of bread.
By the end, I was left with nothing but a light coat of olive oil on my fingers and sweet satisfaction in my belly. I indulged in my experience with this loaf for a while before I was ready to return to the real world.
My bread was gone and people-watching grew tiresome, so I packed up my remaining snacks, wiped my hands on my jeans, and walked to the pub across the road. It was stuffy and crowded on the inside, but I was able to squeeze by an older gentleman to order a beer. Right outside, two women had just vacated their highboy table and I stepped in to claim it. Sipping my beer and enjoying the hum of daytime pub chatter, I drifted off into a daydream. In the distance, I heard what could only be the hefty fresh vegetable trader bellowing a tune about his marvelous crop and I knew I would be talking about this experience for years to come.
A busy farmers’ market is easy to write off as ordinary and inconsequential, but local markets are the height of their communities. London is radiant and alive. It has a deep history, beautiful architecture, a vibrant nightlife— all these reasons are why I love it so much, it doesn’t need to compete in the culinary world to provide travelers with a rich experience.
Borough Market eating isn’t fine dining, it’s better; it’s a community buffet. When walking the aisles I get a literal taste of the lives happening within the city borders and beyond. No matter how many times I travel to London, no matter what kind of jam-packed itinerary I’m working with, I always make time to browse the market and soak in the bliss and bustle of it all, and I recommend you do the same.
*The London Underground, rapid transit system
*Soft, dusted, chewy morsels of varying flavor
