
Durham's indoor Market Hall sits at the top of the Market Place, a two-minute stroll from the cathedral and an easy walk from most of the city's boutique guesthouses. It is the sort of building that rewards an unhurried visit: iron pillars, a high glazed roof, and aisles that still smell faintly of coffee, sawdust and baking bread. Traders begin setting out from around eight in the morning, and the bakery counters are at their best before eleven, when the first lunchtime queues start to form.
If you are staying centrally, walk rather than drive. Parking near the Market Place is limited and pricey, and the stroll down Saddler Street afterwards, when you are carrying a bag of cheese and a warm loaf, is one of the small pleasures of a Durham weekend. Weekday mornings are quietest; Saturdays bring the outdoor pitches into the square and a livelier, noisier atmosphere. Whichever you choose, take a canvas bag and a little cash — most stalls take cards now, but a few of the smaller traders still prefer notes and coins, and the queue moves faster if you are ready.
Head first for the cheese counter, which is where the Market Hall quietly earns its reputation as a supplier to the city's kitchens. You will find northern classics alongside lesser-known local makes, and the staff are generous with tasters if you show genuine interest rather than simply pointing.
Ask for your cheese to be cut to weight rather than pre-packed, and mention if you are eating it that evening. A good cheesemonger will steer you towards something ripe and ready rather than something that needs a week in the fridge. Keep it out of the sun on the walk back, and let it come to room temperature for half an hour before you eat it — the difference is remarkable.
The bakery stalls bake through the night, so by mid-morning the shelves carry that faint warmth that tells you the bread has not long been out. Sourdough, seeded tin loaves, rye and cheese-topped rolls all appear, but the one to seek out is the stottie: a soft, flat, heavy North East loaf, traditionally split and filled with ham and pease pudding. Buy one warm, split it on a bench by the river, and you will understand why it has never needed marketing.
Two practical notes. First, if you want a specific loaf, ask what time it comes out of the oven and plan around it — popular lines sell out well before midday on Saturdays. Second, buy your bread after your cheese, not before, so nothing gets squashed at the bottom of the bag. A rucksack beats a handbag every time.
The sweet side of the hall is where restraint becomes difficult. Look out for singin' hinnies, the North East's griddle cakes studded with currants and best eaten warm with butter; dense, dark parkin for anyone who likes their ginger sticky and serious; and slabs of fudge and honeycomb from the confectionery stalls, sold by the quarter and wrapped in paper.
There is also a long-standing regional weakness for rose and lemon Turkish delight, sold by weight from glass cases, and trays of macaroons, florentines and gingerbread that make a far better souvenir than anything from an airport. If you are staying in a guesthouse with a residents' lounge, a small box of fudge is a welcome thing to bring back for the pot of tea that inevitably follows a long walk.
The real reason to shop here rather than in a supermarket is the conversation, and it costs nothing to start one. Simple questions work best: What is good this week? Where do you get this from? How do you cook it? Traders who have supplied Durham homes for decades know exactly which stall does the best bacon, which café the market staff use on their break, and which day the fish arrives.
A few small courtesies go a long way. Wait your turn in the queue. Do not lean on a counter that is mid-transaction. If you take a taster, buy something, even something small. And if you are buying a gift, say so — you will often be handed a box, a bag or a scrap of advice about how to transport it. Regulars are made in about three visits, and by your second morning you will be greeted like a local.
Build your visit around the market rather than tacking it on. Arrive at opening, buy cheese, bread and something sweet, then walk down to the riverside for a circular route past the cathedral and back up through the old streets. Return mid-afternoon for a coffee and to collect anything you ordered earlier.
Do it properly and the Market Hall becomes the anchor of your stay: the place you return to on your last morning for a loaf to take home, having learned a little more about the county through the people who feed it.
Air rooms thoroughly, wash curtains, and check overlooked corners to refresh a guesthouse after the heavier demands of winter bookings.
Comments
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