In my last post I talked about coming out of hibernation and looking for some colour, trying to get away from the drab browns of winter. So I’ve been to France for a week, the place that shows off its food better than any country I’ve been to.

Not far from where I was staying is the chic ski resort of Megève, knee deep in fur coats and Pekinese dogs. But the biggest attraction for me was the Friday market. This is not a market for tourists, this is a market for the locals , a market for everyday food shopping.

We arrived early, in bright sunlight but freezing temperatures, to be greeted by a 7m long fish stall bursting with vitality, beautifully laid out and smelling so fresh those fish could have jumped straight out of the sea. Put simply, this was food that was seducing its customers.

 
Ten minutes later we were still marvelling at the sight in front of us. Of course, it was to be fish for supper; that display had made our minds up for us.

The French know how to entice the customer. Their ability to display their produce is second to none.

We spent ages gazing at the sights, buying far more than we needed, excited by the food laid out before us.

Maybe it was the mountain air, maybe the bright sunshine, but I found myself drooling over these seven cauliflowers, thinking up the best ideas for cooking with one.

There were a myriad of presents to bring home…

…and presents for my hosts.

Markets like this cheer me up, make me feel better about life. This is my kind of pick-me-up, my tub of ice cream on the sofa in my PJs, my happy music. British markets don’t have such a good reputation as the French, but now I’m home I’ll be making a visit to my local Farmer’s Market to see if I can top up my dose of happiness.

So I’ve come out of hibernation and my foodie enthusiasm has returned.