Why are rich modern cities so obsessed with street food?

Berlin's Markthalle Neun. Image: Getty.

In London, at some point in the 1840s, an oyster seller who had “seen better days” described her trade to journalist Henry Mayhew. Hawking from a basket on a busy street, she took home just a shilling a night (£2-3 today). Her regulars were sheepish gentlemen, prostitutes, and workers hunting a Saturday supper. In nineteenth-century London, oysters were hardly a luxury. Mayhew estimated 124m were sold every year, at four a penny.

In the same city, in mid-2016, I picked up dinner in a half-abandoned warehouse. For a few pounds entry, plus a fiver or so a dish, I wolfed down Hawaiian sushi, a Jerk-seasoned corn cob, and chewy, bright-green meringues. The vendors and bar staff were even hipper than the hip, millennial crowd, which was padded out by families and tourists.

Street food has always been an urban phenomenon. A set of historical essays, published this summer, has chapters on ancient Rome, Naples in the 1700s, and modern-day Bangkok. Until recently, rich and poor cityfolk bought most of their food, raw and cooked, from stalls or wanderers on the streets.

It’s hardly news this traditional chow has gone gourmet. Open-air markets, like Smorgasburg in Brooklyn or Kerb across London, jostle with restaurants to offer the most exciting and innovative urban grub.

But another trend could change the phenomenon, and the city space, more drastically: the fixed-site, often indoors, always open market. Street food is coming off the streets.

This autumn, Time Out unveiled plans to open a market in London during the second half of 2017. The Shoreditch site will host 17 food outlets, a cooking academy, several bars, a shop and a gallery.

“We want to offer local restaurateurs, mixologists [that is, cocktail-makers], artists the opportunity to showcase their talent in a different part of town and in a great location that reflects our brand character,” Time Out CEO Julio Bruno told me by email.

London is not the only target. In 2014, the media group opened its first market in Lisbon, taking over a 75,000 sq ft, nineteenth-century hall on the waterfront. A second Iberian market, in Porto, will start trading next year. Similar schemes in Miami and New York are “progressing well”, the company says, but have no launch dates attached.


Time Out stresses these markets are not just about street food; journalists say otherwise, drawing them into round-ups of on-the-hoof eating. I visited the Lisbon market in September and saw a dual identity. There was street-style informality: on that Saturday night, the masses fought for free chairs, drunk beer from plastic glasses, and chomped overflowing burgers and bold-flavoured ice cream from semi-permanent stalls. But there were luxury flashes: the hall was decked with polished wood and steel, and the vendors included some of the city’s best-known chefs, who crafted elegant small plates. As we walked in, passing a glass tank, we were watched by a pair of lobsters.

The market does not mirror the serendipity of street life. Time Out’s writers curate everything, with each vendor brandishing a four- or five-star review. “The best fine-dining, the best fast-casual – [the journalists] handpick all of that, whether it’s already loved by locals or up and coming,” Bruno says.

These markets are a new way to use old spaces. Markets themselves aren’t novel – they were one reason cities first sprung up, and now famous hubs like Barcelona’s La Boqueria, Berlin’s Markthalle Neun and LA’s Grand Central Market have substantial street food components – but this trend is different. These are fresh developments pulling plugged-in food lovers to quieter parts of the metropolis.

Time Out’s Lisbon market played a role in its area’s revival. The Cais do Sodré area, long distinguished by drunk sailors, brothels and sweaty clubs, has become a fashionable nightlife spot over the last decade. Having an attraction feeding 1.3m people a year in your locale can’t hurt. Unsurprisingly, it’s something Bruno is proud of. “The market played a decisive role in bringing employment and attracting visitors to this once slightly neglected part of town,” he adds.

One of Time Out’s competitors has community values up front. London Union’s internal mission statement is, “Transforming lives and communities with the awesome power of street food”. Last year, the company bought Street Feast, which runs markets in underused buildings and spaces in Canada Water, Lewisham and Shoreditch. The one I visited this summer, in Dalston Yard, has recently closed.

Its founders, backed by food world glitterati from Jamie Oliver to Yottam Ottolenghi, want to open to 20 local markets by 2020, including a vast street food mecca in the heart of the city. Their dream spot is the derelict Smithfield General Market.

Smithfield General Market. Image: JamesK1987/Wikimedia Commons.

On the phone, Jonathan Downey, one of the founders, rejects the accusation the smart and fashionable just come to make fun in poorer parts of town. As those areas become cooler, they also become more expensive, rents rise and locals might suffer.

“I am not a gentrifier; I am a hyper-local,” says Downey. He describes the varied parts of London in which he’s lived or opened bars and restaurants. “I’m not a landlord. They may then follow and reference what I’ve done, but I have actually done something that is reasonable and good value. We are about community and amenity.”

Who are these markets for? London Union says 70% per cent of its 1m annual customers are under 35; but the story of invading hipsters is not entirely fair. In Lewisham and Dalston, where 40 per cent of visitors lived within a mile, the markets became part of the neighbourhood, while in Shoreditch the crowd has more suits from the nearby City.

Street Feast’s traders, who pay a percentage of their takings as a pitch fee, hardly resemble the down-and-out hawkers of history. Downey calls most of them “passionate, second- or third-career people”. “They want to do something that they love and share it,” he says.

These warm, structured, permanent markets are a platform for young businesses. Their impact on an area probably needs careful watching, as it will vary from place to place. Rich cities with few vendors may have to worry less, though others, like New York with its several thousand legal and illegal traders, may see a threat.

But what of those defining labels – “food” and “street”? To Downey, street food means specialising in one dish, like chicken wings or tacos. It is anything eaten standing up, but not necessarily outdoors. And it requires a human connection between seller and eater. “It’s a bit like being a band on stage,” he says. “You feel your feedback.”

With the last part at least, Mayhew’s oyster maid would agree.

Charlie Taverner tweets as @charlietaverner.

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What Citymapper’s business plan tells us about the future of Smart Cities

Some buses. Image: David Howard/Wikimedia Commons.

In late September, transport planning app Citymapper announced that it had accumulated £22m in losses, nearly doubling its total loss since the start of 2019. 

Like Uber and Lyft, Citymapper survives on investment funding rounds, hoping to stay around long enough to secure a monopoly. Since the start of 2019, the firm’s main tool for establishing that monopoly has been the “Citymapper Pass”, an attempt to undercut Transport for London’s Oyster Card. 

The Pass was teased early in the year and then rolled out in the spring, promising unlimited travel in zones 1-2 for £31 a week – cheaper than the TfL rate of £35.10. In effect, that means Citymapper itself is paying the difference for users to ride in zones 1-2. The firm is basically subsidising its customers’ travel on TfL in the hopes of getting people hooked on its app. 

So what's the company’s gameplan? After a painful, two-year long attempt at a joint minibus and taxi service – known variously as Smartbus, SmartRide, and Ride – Citymapper killed off its plans at a bus fleet in July. Instead of brick and mortar, it’s taken a gamble on their mobile mapping service with Pass. It operates as a subscription-based prepaid mobile wallet, which is used in the app (or as a contactless card) and operates as a financial service through MasterCard. Crucially, the service offers fully integrated, unlimited travel, which gives the company vital information about how people are actually moving and travelling in the city.

“What Citymapper is doing is offering a door-to-door view of commuter journeys,” says King’s College London lecturer Jonathan Reades, who researches smart cities and the Oyster card. 

TfL can only glean so much data from your taps in and out, a fact which has been frustrating for smart city researchers studying transit data, as well as companies trying to make use of that data. “Neither Uber nor TfL know what you do once you leave their system. But Citymapper does, because it’s not tied to any one system and – because of geolocation and your search – it knows your real origin and destination.” 

In other words, linking ticketing directly with a mapping service means the company can get data not only about where riders hop on and off the tube, but also how they're planning their route, whether they follow that plan, and what their final destination is. The app is paying to discount users’ fares in order to gain more data.

Door-to-door destinations gives a lot more detailed information about a rider’s profile as well: “Citymapper can see that you’re also looking at high-profile restaurant as destinations, live in an address on a swanky street in Hammersmith, and regularly travel to the City.” Citymapper can gain insights into what kind of people are travelling, where they hang out, and how they cluster in transit systems. 

And on top of finding out data about how users move in a city, Citymapper is also gaining financial data about users through ticketing, which reflects a wider trend of tech companies entering into the financial services market – like Apple’s recent foray into the credit card business with Apple Card. Citymapper is willing to take a massive hit because the data related to how people actually travel, and how they spend their money, can do a lot more for them than help the company run a minibus service: by financialising its mapping service, it’s getting actual ticketing data that Google Maps doesn’t have, while simultaneously helping to build a routing platform that users never really have to leave


The integrated transit app, complete with ticket data, lets Citymapper get a sense of flows and transit corridors. As the Guardian points out, this gives Citymapper a lot of leverage to negotiate with smaller transit providers – scooter services, for example – who want to partner with it down the line. 

“You can start to look at ‘up-sell’ and ‘cross-sell’ opportunities,” explain Reades. “If they see that a particular journey or modal mix is attractive then they are in a position to act on that with their various mobility offerings or to sell that knowledge to others. 

“They might sell locational insights to retailers or network operators,” he goes on. “If you put a scooter bay here then we think that will be well-used since our data indicates X; or if you put a store here then you’ll be capturing more of that desirable scooter demographic.” With the rise of electric rideables, Citymapper can position itself as a platform operator that holds the key to user data – acting a lot like TfL, but for startup scooter companies and car-sharing companies.

The app’s origins tell us a lot about the direction of its monetisation strategy. Originally conceived as “Busmapper”, the app used publicly available transit data as the base for its own datasets, privileging transit data over Google Maps’ focus on walking and driving.  From there it was able to hone in on user data and extract that information to build a more efficient picture of the transit system. By collecting more data, it has better grounds for selling that for urban planning purposes, whether to government or elsewhere.

This kind of data-centred planning is what makes smart cities possible. It’s only become appealing to civic governments, Reades explains, since civic government has become more constrained by funding. “The reason its gaining traction with policy-makers is because the constraints of austerity mean that they’re trying to do more with less. They use data to measure more efficient services.”  

The question now is whether Citymapper’s plan to lure riders away from the Oyster card will be successful in the long term. Consolidated routing and ticketing data is likely only the first step. It may be too early to tell how it will affect public agencies like TfL – but right now Citymapper is establishing itself as a ticketing service - gaining valuable urban data, financialising its app, and running up those losses in the process.

When approached for comment, Citymapper claimed that Pass is not losing money but that it is a “growth startup which is developing its revenue streams”. The company stated that they have never sold data, but “regularly engage with transport authorities around the world to help improve open data and their systems”

Josh Gabert-Doyon tweets as @JoshGD.