The secret to the market? Cherry (tomato) pick

The market on Whitechapel High Street is a source of many emotions. Wonder, awe... disgust. The latter normally coming back from work when the debris of the day's selling is everywhere, and the noxious waste from the fish stall that's been stewing in the sun all day is running into the gutter and perfuming the air. The wonder and awe is at the brashness and the haggling and the women checking vegetables over meticulously and smelling the honey mangoes for ripeness. I think I can name about 50% of the produce on the stalls, and this, as well as the huge variations in quality, is what has stopped me shopping there in the past.

That was before the day I got a whole bag full of long, fleshy and sweet red peppers for just a pound. Shoo and I grilled them, and grilled them again the day after, and there were still some left at the end of the week to grill for a third time. Smothering in olive oil compulsory.

Since then I've had a hawk-eye on the stalls on the walk back from Whitechapel tube station every day. The latest find? A big bag of juicy and slightly tart baby plum tomatoes, again for a pound. Here's what they looked like after roasting till squishy and spurting juice, all ready to be stirred into a bowl of pasta:

At the same stall that sold me the tomatoes, they always have gargantuan shiny black aubergines, so I picked up one of those too, though I can't now remember what I did with it. However, I also spotted a mystery vegetable that looked a little like choi sum but clearly wasn't.


The young guy at the till didn't have a clue what the leaves were, so he told me to ask another customer - a Bengali lady shopping with her mum. Neither of them could tell me exactly what it was - they guessed, maybe the leaves from daikon/mooli - but they did tell me how to cook it. Sauteed in oil, apparently, with some black onion seeds thrown in. The asian supermarket across the road did everything but onion seeds, so I improvised with mustard seeds. Not on a par with spinach, but tasty enough.