Frankfurt

This is a city of culinary experimentation, where traditional apfelwein taverns are celebrated alongside the likes of matcha donuts at a French-Japanese patisserie.

- Christie Dietz

In her signature blue-and-white striped apron, Ilse Schreiber lifts a horseshoe-shaped ring of dense, garlicky pork sausage from a pot of steaming water. She’s behind the counter at her yellow-tiled hole-in-the-wall butcher’s shop in Frankfurt’s beloved indoor market, the Kleinmarkthalle. Approaching 80, with soft grey curls and a hard life etched in her face, she slices off a large chunk of fleischwurst (mixed meat sausage), slits the skin for peeling, and hands it to me on a paper plate with a squeeze of yellow mustard, a crusty bread roll and a huge pickled gherkin. There’s a sign above the window advising people to ‘queue to the left’, ensuring the long line of daily visitors doesn’t block the other stands as it snakes its way out of the hall. This is a legendary local lunch.

Built at the end of the 1800s, then rebuilt after the Second World War, the Kleinmarkthalle is home to more than 60 food and flower stalls. Walking through its unremarkable entrance on Hasengasse feels like stepping back in time: the walls are dated, the floor worn but clean, and at first glance, the offerings very regionally German. There’s Confiserie Graff, the seventh-generation family bakery that’s lauded as one of Germany’s best, displaying dome-shaped mini Black Forest gateaux and Rödelheimer kranz, a cherry brandy-spiked variation of the much-loved Frankfurt crown cake. At Main Gourmet, regional gins, jams and vinegars are offered along with air-dried horse ham and a round of apfelwein (apple wine) cheese covered in dark purple petals. On Fridays and Saturdays, live trout, carp and char are sold in the market cellar, splashing about in the blueand-white-tiled, built-in baths.