Then  On both sides of the street stood gigantic pavilions, whose overlaying roofs seemed to grow, expand, disappear into a haze of light . . .  conjured up images of a series of enormous, perfectly aligned palaces . . . their facades ablaze with a thousand rays of flame . . . Between the slender edges of the pillars, these thin yellow bars formed ladders of light, rising to the dark line of the lowest roofs, then climbing to the top of the upper ones. Beneath the yellow gaslight, within the great openwork frames of immense halls, lay a jumble of gray, faded, and dormant forms.  Extract from Emile Zola’s novel, Le Ventre de Paris/The Belly of Paris When Zola wrote Le Ventre de Paris in 1873, Les Halles (literal translation, the market halls), the glass and iron structure he describes, was only a couple of decades old, though there had already been various other markets in the vicinity during the preceding centuries.  By 1969 only one of the original pavilions remained, and the Council of Paris ordered its demolition and the subsequent relocation of the entire market operation to Rungis in the Paris suburbs, quite close to Orly Airport. Since that time it has expanded to become the largest wholesale market for fresh produce in the world.  The new precincts are a far cry from the classic landmark in Zola’s book, but the move has indisputably turned out to be a good thing. Just imagine a Paris where multi-ton freight trucks stream into the 2nd arrondissement, unload their cargo, and then depart in the opposite direction 25,000 times a day at all hours, six days a week.   View of Les Halles from Saint-Eustache in 1870. Painting by Felix Benoist. Public Domain Now  The taxi pulled up outside my door at 5:15 am on the dot, well before sunrise. Downstairs, my friend Rafael was waiting. I thought he’d be the ideal travel companion to explore the Marché International de Rungis, since he’s both a microbiologist and a former chef.   The roads to Rungis were not as empty as I’d assumed they would be at that hour, but we still arrived well in advance of our 6 am appointment with Adeline, the market’s liaison officer for media relations. I had opted out of meeting her at 5 am, which meant we missed seeing the seafood pavilion, but that still left more than enough time to get a good overview of the rest of the facilities.   In order to enter the main precincts of the market, you need a pass, and she had sent me one in advance. It turned out our driver also had a pass and, once through the gates had no difficulty zeroing in on our meeting point at one of the five Meat pavilions.   Meat pavilion at Rungis. Photo: Rafael Martins Almost the first thing Adeline told us after she arrived was that the Rungis market was larger in area than the Principality of Monaco. (Of course I later fact checked, and it’s true: Rungis is 234 hectares/0.90 sq mi; Monaco is 202 hectares/0.78 sq mi). Before entering the pavilion, we were handed white coverall jackets made of some recyclable material and wore them throughout the remainder of our visit for reasons of hygiene. Rafael later remarked how struck he was by the level of sanitation and cleanliness everywhere.   Once inside, I tried not to focus on the beef carcasses dangling on either side of the center aisle, and later declined the opportunity to visit the Poultry + Game and the Tripe pavilions. One pleasant surprise was spotting a door marked l’Aloyau, which led into the kind of traditional restaurant you might find anywhere in mid-to-northern France. A number of workers were eating and drinking at the wooden bar and Rafael noticed one was devouring a steak tartare.