Night Market, Schite Market

A few weeks ago, I attended the Toronto Night Market, an Asian market set up in a Markham parking lot to raise money for a geriatric centre. “Great!” I thought when I first heard about the event. “What can be better than a night market? We’re even helping old people!” By merely showing up and consuming a few goodies one’s karmic stature was guaranteed to skyrocket. I have fond memories of the night market in Taipei. Row upon row of luscious food stalls, happy people milling about eating tasty treats off sticks; I can still feel the hot smoke from the charcoal grills on my face. Yes, I thought to myself again, this was going to be good.

Unfortunately, my memories pummeled the poor excuse for a night market in that Markham parking lot. Sure, there were tons of people and a few food stalls, but nothing to match the grandeur and electric atmosphere of a real Asian night market.

I did, however, get to sample stinky tofu. Yes, it does live up to its name in the stench department. (Helpful tip: do not stand downwind of the frying stations. The smell will seep into your clothing and you will lose friends). In terms of flavour, it tasted just like regular deep-fried bean curd. Isn’t the fermentation process supposed to add something?

In happier news, I also sampled a pollen drink set to rival bubble tea. Instead of tapioca balls there are small pollen buds (supposedly very healthy) that look like tiny eyes. It reminded me of that passage from J.M. Coetzee’s Foe when Friday draws rows of open “walking” eyes on a foot when Susan and Foe try to teach him to write. Except here the eyes walked straight up the straw and into my mouth. A bizarre drinking experience, but quite tasty. (Probably had something to do with the pound of brown sugar and bottle of honey that I spied the vendor stirring in).

Oh well. Maybe next year, Toronto Night Market. Or maybe I just need another trip to Taipei.

- Andrea