Borough Bounty

A trip to Borough Market at London Bridge this weekend, and as usual, I am filled with the same excitement as the proverbial kid in a sweetshop. January is said to be a boring food month, but come here to be shown otherwise. Of course, there is the usual vast array of regulars; the same dedicated lot who show up every week to bring us their delectable wares from all over Europe.

Many people I have spoken to reject the idea of going to Borough on the grounds that "it's far too expensive, isn't it?". On the contrary, this is mecca for any hungry student bored by the banal, looking for something exotic. One could easily eat to their fill here; a massive lunch of miniture tapas-style bites, one or two from each of the vast number of stalls.

Imagine; whet your appetite with a few nibbles of heavenly bread dunked in some tzatziki or perhaps aubergine mezze from Greece and North Africa, then meander the salume stalls - a bite a wild boar salami here, an exquisite taste of Brindisa's chorizo there - and a mouthful of every possible cheese you could imagine, from wine-marinated l'Ubriata to delightful French comte.

Then to the sweet stalls, for a melt-in-the-mouth nugget of Turkish Delight, a teensy slice of deeply chocolatey tart or a generous crumb of the BEST brownie you will ever taste. All washed down with sips of local apple juice and cider.

A 10,15,20+ course menu degustation - for free! Get thyself there next Friday or Saturday (but in the morning, before the tourists descend).

We come back with a couple of spanking-fresh squid and four enormous tiger prawns the size of small lobsters. Yes, they were pricey, but a weekend treat far cheaper than a night out on the lash, and far better. Also, beautiful tomatoes, a salame made from wild boar-cross pigs in Northerm Italy, a crisp head of bok choi and some heady basil, and vivid rainbow chard the colour of 80s lipstick. And a soft, floury, heaven-scented ciabatta from a stunning Italian girl at the Flour Station.

But the oranges are what draws me today. This is the thing with markets using seasonal produce - go without a shopping list and feel yourself being inticed by whatever glows, jewel-like, from the treasure trove that is this noisy, bustling, godsend of a place.

There is a cart of blood oranges, £1.80 a kilo. They are alive with flavour and loud, loud colour. I buy about three kilos, for juice, sorbet and stickily greedy devouring. Also, a wooden crate of teensy clementines, sweetie-like, the leaves still intact, begs me to lug it home until I give in. £3.60 to last me two weeks at least (or one greedy, vit-C bingeing one).

We fry the seafood in chopped garlic, chilli and parsley, scoring the squid bodies so they curl up beautifully as their tentacled counterparts coil up bouncily. Their juices, a tomato salad, with olive oil and torn-up basil, and the sliced salame, all are welcome for the vehicle of Italian bread, torn greedily as we go. Bright, juicy, vibrant oranges and a home-made chocolate mousse (chocolate, eggs, sugar) finish up this flavour orgy perfectly. Then, of course, we all get a bit too drunk as we haven't had enough carbs. It's perfectly good fun, apart from the sore head the next day - a small price to pay, and it's Sunday, anyway.