Scorpions, Tarantulas, and European Cheeses & Cured Meats
A look at Mercado San Juan, my neighborhood market
The first time I visited Mercado San Juan, a market in the historic center of Mexico City best known for its gourmet and exotic foods, I was overwhelmed. Tables of scorpions, tarantulas, and other ‘edible’ insects turned my stomach. Then I found myself in the meat section, which makes me equally squeamish. There is something about seeing raw meat hanging in markets that I find incredibly unappetizing. For those who can stomach the meat section, it’s rumored that you’ll find rabbit, venison, wild boar, crocodile, and apparently, even lion.
I had all but written the market off when I read that it also specializes in cheese and cured meats from Europe. If there’s one kind of meat I can handle, it’s Spanish jamon serranos and Italian salamis.
The market is conveniently located on the same street as my lavanderia, so I stopped by one morning after dropping off my laundry. I maneuvered through the food stalls and the men who shove menus in your face, hoping to entice you to dine with them. Is this approach ever successful? It reminds me of the aggressive street vendors in Jemaa el-Fna, the main square in Marrakech, who all but follow you through the restaurant stalls begging you to eat at their establishment. Thankfully, most markets in Mexico City are not aggressive at all.
I spotted a fruit stand with a man whose eyes crinkled when he smiled at me. I liked him instantly. I picked up a mango to see if it was ripe enough to buy, and he did the same. Before I could object to an additional mango, he pulled out a small knife, cut a slice, and gave it to me. I ate it, as juices dripped down my hand. He handed me a napkin and then opened a rambutan and a maracuyá. By the time I left his stand, I had sampled so many fruits, many of which I didn’t even know the names of. It goes without saying that I bought a lot more than just a mango.
Around the corner, I found a stall selling cheese, salami, and serrano ham. I paused just long enough that the woman handed me a slice of cheese. I will never turn down free cheese. Manchego, gouda, comté–whatever she handed me, I ate and also purchased. Then her husband started slicing an assortment of salamis and jamons. I didn’t buy all of them, but I left with prosciutto and Genoa and peppercorn salamis.
When I returned the day before my birthday, the cheese vendor asked if I would like a red or white glass of wine. This was a sure sign I spent too much money on my last visit. Next thing I knew I had a plate of cured meats in front of me, and she was handing me slices of cheese to pair with my cabernet sauvignon. Once again, I bought a lot of cheese. As I was paying, she handed me a slice of bread, topped with cheese and two fig slices drizzled in honey. They also threw a loaf of sourdough bread in my bag.
‘I have a cheese person,’ I giddily told my mom over the phone on my walk home. ‘And a cured meat person.’
I realize it’s a simple thing, but it feels just as good as when a barista knows that I want a cortado, or the guy at my wine shop knows I want a decently priced red. These small exchanges mean so much when you’re living in a new place, with a new language, and a new culture.
Here’s a more in-depth look at Mercado San Juan, my neighborhood market.
