By 11 o'clock every night in Paris, the trucks are jammed into every narrow street from the Opera to the Louvre. Horns squawk, cops shout, taxi drivers curse and take long detours, but nothing helps until 9 o'clock the next morning when the trucks roar away. The noisy, redolent center of this nightly hubbub, and its cause, is Les Halles Centrales, Paris' central food market.
Through Les Halles' twelve iron-and-glass pavilions move every fish, vegetable and piece of meat that Paris consumes. "The belly of Paris," Emile Zola called it. Under the glaring light...
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