I will always give preference not to the supermarket, but to the market - life is in full swing there. This is a place of power.
The process of cooking for me begins not with a lid, jumps over boiling water, not from the dancing flame of a burner, not from the open door of the refrigerator, but by the choice of products. This determines the quality and taste of my dishes. This is a sacred act, for which I am going to the market.

For me, the market is a place of power, a place of accumulation of incredible, insane energy that can inspire, induce to cook and create.

From afar you can see a rich spot of green, magnificently laid out on the tables. The sun is reflected on the tomatoes, scattering. The smell of spices, dissolved in the air, creates a fragrant thread that leads to the counter with spices. Carrots, radishes, cabbage say to you: “Prepare us!” I cannot refuse them.

A moment, and I already squeeze heavy bags in my hands. By some miracle, or rather fingertips, I try to keep the laurel branch, and with my eyes I try to cover the rows filled with bright colors. During maturation, the sun saturates products with life, and continues to gently protect them in the market. A closed room of a supermarket with artificial light is an abnormal environment for products, where life fades. That is why supermarkets tend to adapt to the farm theme: here you have wooden troughs, a little hay in the decor (for “naturalness”). Like, nature is near, feel the fresh breeze. No, this is not air conditioning, you. Everywhere there are inscriptions that convince people that the products are fresh and delivered from the best farms.