Without wanting to sound tediously Scrooge-like, the German-style markets that have become seasonal fixtures in many British cities over the last few decades never make me feel particularly festive. What’s remotely Christmassy – or German – about Dubai-chocolate churros and Korean fried chicken, I grumble as I drag the dog (who enjoys all such things) around their perimeters.
Hamburg’s markets, however, which I was myself dragged around last weekend, are a very different story. For a start, the city has many of them, mainly fairly small – and some, such as the “erotic Christmas market” in St Pauli, with a particular theme. What they all have in common is the range of food and drink on offer … though let’s gloss hurriedly over the phallic gingerbread shapes on sale at St Pauli in favour of the eye-opening range of glühwein (white, rosé, kirsch-spiked, blueberry-flavoured), which was far more appealing.
