'just back with K from London's Borough Market. Good food for good people or merely the middle classes at prayer. The truth is probably somewhere between the two.
Don't get me wrong. I love farmers' markets and will be the first in line for a hare, piece of 'rare breed' pork belly or truckle of artisan cheese. There are limits, however. Today, I saw a huge line of people queuing for organic hamburgers. The wait was at least half an hour. The weather: freezing cold. Are these people mad? How great can a burger be?
It was the same at the line for Ginger Pig: my favourite butcher. Who doesn't like great dry aged beef of that quality? But giving up that amount of time? No siree.
After a surprisingly misspent fifteen minutes in the London Bridge branch of Majestic, Wine Merchants ('sure hope they were doing a stock take) K and I started to head down to Farringdon for some vino. It was then that it hit me. Why, presumably, sane people were willing to wait so long for their little slice of organic heaven.
Modern man, despite various high profile teleprogs, doesn't do much hunting or foraging these days. Perhaps queuing in icy temperatures for prized joints of meat, organic hamburgers and sausages put these folks in touch with their long-lost hunter-gatherer selves.
