How Central de Abasto, the world’s largest market hidden in Mexico City’s so-called “trash district”, has become the unlikely backbone of its fine-dining revolution.
Mexico City’s status as one of the world’s top culinary capitals is often credited to the creative tasting menus and celebrity chef collaborations found in its upscale Roma Norte neighbourhood. But the flavours served on those affluent, tree-lined streets often begin their journey to the plate at dawn – in a sprawling, chaotic market in one of the city’s poorest boroughs.
Located in Iztapalapa, Central de Abasto is the largest wholesale market in the world, covering 3.27 sq km – roughly the size of New York City’s Central Park – and supplying 80% of the capital’s produce. Between 04:00 and 08:00, the sprawl feels like a scene from Blade Runner, with buyers elbowing their way through narrow paths to haggle at thousands of warehouses and slapdash produce stalls. Diableros (hand-truck porters) sprint through the maze of crowds and beeping trucks, careful not to bump into colleagues balancing wooden crates on their heads. Whenever I hear a trilling whistle, I jump aside to let a “little devil” race past with a comically overloaded bundle.
Central de Abasto opened in 1982 to replace La Merced, CDMX’s colonial-era trading centre. Every day, it welcomes half a million visitors and handles more than 30,000 tons of produce from across Mexico. The ramshackle vibe is characteristic of Iztapalapa, historically derided as a “trash district” for its landfills and prisons. Today, 43% of its two million residents live in moderate to extreme poverty, making it one of the capital’s poorest boroughs. Yet Central’s pivotal role in feeding the capital’s world-class restaurants is shifting perceptions.
Although home shoppers also visit, Central’s focus is on large-scale buying – with supersized displays to match. I gawk at a wall of watermelons piled higher than my head and a giant stacks of carrots. I smell the garlic shop before I see it: it has boxes of bulbs stacked to the ceiling, braids dangling from the rafters. Then, I follow my nose to a vendor hawking juicy tacos campechanos (grilled beef and sausage with cactus, potatoes and pico de gallo). The sheer variety of the mercado’s selection reflects Mexico’s multitudes of microclimates, and vendors come from all over the region to sell uniquely Mexican produce.
Rey LopezChefs have long bought staples at Central de Abasto, but over the past 10 to 15 years a new wave of fine-dining pioneers began coming not just for bulk produce, but for rarer, organic and indigenous ingredients. Farmers like Alfredo Cruz Camacho illustrate the shift. At one of the market’s many long tables, he proudly displays candy cane beetroot with red and white inner rings and glossy baby heirloom tomatoes. His specialty crops caught the attention of Michelin-starred chefs browsing the stalls, including Israel Montero of Siembra Comedor. “He invited me to his restaurant in [the upscale neighbourhood of] Polanco, an area unknown to me as I only lived off the chinampas in Tláhuac [floating farms pioneered by the Aztecs],” Camacho recalls.