The definitive guide to Christmas market scran

Dear readers — our MO is to publish just four times a week. It lets us go in-depth. But it also carries a risk: if you run too many similar stories in a few weeks, things can quickly feel out of balance.

It has come to our attention that in recent weeks we have served up quite a lot of doom and gloom: financial problems at the council, financial problems at the university, park problems, probation problems, the housing crisis getting worse, and London tech bros failing to make it better.

Of course, news often does skew to the negative. But given it is almost December, we thought it was time to launch into something more festive. The grey-headed Tribune veterans may remember last year The Tribune’s regular food critic Mina Miller took on a vital festive assignment — rating the mulled wines available at outlets from IKEA to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park.

It was a hit, so we asked Mina to give us a reprise, but this time to take on the festive food being put out by the Christmas markets. If you’ve ever looked at a Yorkshire pudding wrap and wondered whether it could really be worth £10, this is for you. Enjoy.

By Mina Miller

City centre bashing is a favourite pastime of some of Sheffield’s online communities. But I love it here, and visit on a weekly basis. Sure, the Moor can look like a scene from 28 Days Later on the weekend, but it comes alive in the week, with rows of market stalls selling everything from cheap curry to trinkets, and independent cafes serving up Ukrainian dumplings, Keralan dosa, and hot spuds.

And, though I’m not a particularly festive person, I love Sheffield’s Christmas Markets. They temporarily turn the city centre into a destination, and you get a sense of what the city centre could be when people use and love it. The influx of families and couples imbues the area with a cosiness and warmth that’s usually lacking. Faux wood lodges line the streets and Christmas tunes are piped over the loudspeakers. The Ferris wheel, which fits snugly between tall buildings on either side on the Moor, adds a touch of whimsy, even if the view from the top can’t be particularly scenic.

I visit the Christmas market for the first time the day after heavy snow. Now that it gets dark at 3pm, the twinkling lights and crowds make the stretch seem like a scene from Polar Express (if you’ve taken off your glasses). The Alpine Lodge seems inviting and warm, even if, in reality, the heaters are about as effective as a hot water bottle nailed to the wall. But illusions of a winter wonderland are quickly punctured by a young man of student age, who seems to be heavily intoxicated and keeps stopping bemused passersby to ask where to find cheese pizza. When I pause to take a picture, an older man immediately asks for my spare change.

Further down the row, a Christmas market loudspeaker is blasting John Lennon’s dubiously festive song Imagine, which creates an amusing sound clash with a busker playing Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah (which might sound festive on the face of it but, ultimately, is a song about the holy power of sex). There are stalls selling hot food of all stripes; Christmas pastries, jams, and cheeses; tree ornaments and trinkets, scarves and jackets. Confusingly, there’s also a premium dog food concession, and I unwillingly get roped into a long sales pitch while hopefully looking around for free samples for my faithful mutt Lucy.

Dog food notwithstanding, the growing range of outlets at the Christmas markets asks a bigger question: what is festive food, anyway? Anything German is one answer, with bratwurst and German chocolates on sale. Is Germany intrinsically festive? Perhaps. One thing I’m sure of, though, is that churros and chow mein don’t normally count as Christmas staples.

Perhaps you’re tempted to give the markets a go, but the overwhelming clash of aromas and lingering doubts about the quality are holding you back. Never fear, for today I’m bringing you my insider guide, just in time for December. In the spirit of the season, I tried to give as many stalls as possible a try. Here’s my ranking, from least to most festive.

Vegan ‘chicken’ strips and chips from the ‘Delicious Fried Chicken and Loaded French Fries’ stall (£6.50)

My friend accompanies me to the market. She’s both vegan and Norwegian, and confusingly seems to be in search of seitan ribs. The brief, I specify, is festive food. She looks indignant for a minute before clarifying that in Norway, ribs are a Christmas classic.

In the US, people eat Christmas ham; in France, it’s oysters. In Japan it’s common to pre-order KFC for Christmas Day. Which, I guess, justifies the fried chicken stall at the market. After reviewing all options and failing to find the vegan stall I could swear I’d seen just days previous, my housemate settles on fake chicken nuggets and chips. She gamely reports they are ‘good’, and that the tenders taste ‘just like chicken’ (unlikely). I try a chip. Perfectly passable.

Best for: The vegans among us, who frankly face thin pickings at the Christmas markets.

Festive factor (out of 10): 0

Käsewurst from the Bratwurst cabin (£7)

The bratwurst stall is a must-visit on my tour. A huge grill stands suspended over hot coals, with counters operating on all sides and a confusing queuing system. Everyone is keen to get in on the action, and don’t mind jostling their way to the front, proving that even with Christmas in the air, it’s a dog-eat-dog-eat-sausage world.

There are classic pork brats on offer, as well as some beef and pork combos, and currywurst.

I opt for the cheese-stuffed käsewurst, which comes scalding hot tucked into a soft, slightly warm bun. Sauerkraut and sauces are on the side, and when she serves me, a member of staff whispers that one tub (on the far end of the counter) is more ‘untouched’ than the others. The brat is pleasingly rubbery and cheesy, oozing rich porky juice. The pickled red cabbage cuts through the richness, adding a touch of tartness which balances the whole thing out. While this was one of my favourite dishes at the market, I am placing it this low in the ranking as I’m not sure there’s anything uniquely festive about a sausage. That won’t stop me from making a second visit, though.

Best for: A quick porky snack

Festive factor (out of 10): 3

Festive bake, Greggs (£2)

While not strictly a market food, I am curious about Greggs festive offering, and pick this up on my way to the cinema. A piping hot pastry stuffed with a goopy mixture of chicken, bacon, cheese, stuffing, cranberry, and savoury herbs, the filling pours out when I bite into it, wholly uncontained, burning my tongue and dripping down my shirt, just in time for me to meet friends. A perfectly executed snack, it’s filling enough (458 calories!) to serve as dinner, and a temporary hand warmer, provided you don’t squeeze it too hard. It’s too no-nonsense to be truly festive, but since I eat it bathed in the light of the ferris wheel, enjoying my first 2024 listen of Ariana Grande’s ‘Santa Tell Me’ playing over the Ferris wheel loudspeakers, it fits the brief well enough.

Best for: a midweek treat

Festive factor (out of 10): 4

Chocolate kisses, from Kisses at Christmas (£2)

The market has several stalls dedicated to German chocolate kisses, a confection with a wafer base, whipped marshmallow filling, and delicate chocolate shell that comes in a variety of flavours. Visually appealing, these sugar bombs are likely to set children’s dopamine receptors ablaze, and sit at an enticing price point, so I try both white chocolate and pistachio versions. The filling is light as air, and the cloud-like consistency pairs well with the crackle of the chocolate shell. The pistachio one is dreamy, but the white chocolate one has a weird fishy aftertaste, which I do not recommend. Provided you pick the right flavour, this would be a great festive gift, although carry them with caution, as they are highly smushable — a big risk in a busy Christmas market.

Best for: An immediate sugar rush

Festive factor (out of 10): 5

Hot chocolate with Jameson’s from the Alpine Lodge (£7)

The Alpine lodge has run out of their hot chocolate and amaretto, so the slightly fed-up bar staff offer to make me a Jameson’s hot chocolate. I’m not sure about adding Irish whiskey to cocoa, but the staff assure me it’s a firm favourite with punters, which I believe until they have no way to ring it up at the till. Regardless, it’s a perfect evening warmer, with rich hot choc offset by the bracing astringency of the double shot. I’m tempted to buy another, but decide against it, as one is enough to make my cheeks burn, despite the plunging temperatures. I appreciate the bar crew’s creative problem-solving, even if I feel a bit like their guinea pig.

Best for: A romantic evening date

Festive factor (out of 10): 6

Venison burger (£7)

Each time we pass this stall, my friend notes the smell. ‘It really smells!’ she keeps saying. ‘Of meat!’ She says this at least three times. But it smells delicious to me: the grill is covered in a mountain of caramelised fried onions and a steaming pile of burgers. So I decide to give it a try. The result: a satisfyingly no-nonsense burger, with a slightly gamier taste than beef. I slather it in burger sauce and devour it before it has a chance to go cold in the winter air. Is it the best quality I’ve ever had? No. But does it do the job? Yes. Lamb and mint and beef burgers are also available, but venison is your best festive option. After all, what could be more Christmassy than eating Rudolph?

Best for: no-nonsense burger enthusiasts

Festive factor (out of 10): 6

Dutch pancakes with Nutella, from the Dutch Pancake stall (£6.50)

Apparently a common festive treat in the Netherlands, these ‘pancakes’ are freshly cooked in special trays, and come by the half dozen. They’re the size and shape of eggs, and come with a variety of toppings. I order mine covered in hot nutella, before remembering that I’m mildly allergic to hazelnuts. My throat starts itching ominously and I pass them off to someone else. These fit the brief for an ultimate festive snack — not commonly available except at Christmas, with little to no nutritional value — just what Santa ordered. They are entirely indulgent and perfect for sharing.

Best for: sharing with the kids

Festive factor (out of 10): 7

Yorkshire pud wrap, from the Roast Hut (£10)

The most popular stall, by far, is the one for Yorkshire pud wraps. The epitome of Christmas in Yorkshire — a roast dinner piled into a gigantic pud then folded and neatly sealed shut by a panini press. Because of the huge queue on a Saturday evening, I put off my visit and return the next day at lunch, and am impressed at the number of people ordering wraps at noon on the dot on a Monday.

With a choice of turkey, pork, or beef, the wrap comes with roasties, stuffing, gravy, peas and carrots, plus optional crackling. Bowls of horseradish, cranberry, and apple sauces sit on the side for you to garnish your wrap as you choose.

I want to love this: it seems like a hug in a wrap and the pud dough is the perfect balance of tender and chewy and brown and crusty. The crackling, too, is nice — but the unmistakable flavour of tinned peas puts me off slightly. What leads me to abandon it, though, is the bitter taste of the packaged stuffing. While this is undoubtedly a profoundly festive food, the foodie in me says you could save a few quid by just going to the Béres just a few meters down the road. Bah humbug.

Best for: a mid-afternoon carb slump

Festive factor (out of 10): 8

Raclette box (£7)

When I stop at the Raclette station, it’s 10.40am on a Friday morning and I’m mildly hungover. However, I want to try this dish for the piece and it’s the only opportunity I have to do so. ‘Are you serving yet?’ I ask. The man behind the counter looks startled, and as we wait for the cheese grill to heat up I ask him if it’s been busy. ‘In the week it’s quieter than a graveyard,’ he responds. ‘But we do great business at the weekend.’ I feel like he must think I’m a bit odd, ordering raclette around the same time as my first coffee of the day, so I hasten to explain it’s for research purposes.

Raclette is a roasted cheese dish that originated in Switzerland. A large wheel of cheese is heated over a special machine, then scraped onto boiled new potatoes and served with pickles. The cheese itself is expensive, and strictly speaking, should come from the Valais canton in Switzerland. (The server assures me his stuff is authentic.)

The raclette is indulgent, warming and hard to find outside of this time of year, and just incredibly satisfying from start to finish. Christmas is a time when normal schedules don’t apply — the days melt into one another like cheese, and it’s permissible to eat chocolates and drink sherry in front of the telly at any point in the day. So what could be more festive than eating an unreasonably large portion of melted cheese for elevenses during the workweek? For seven quid, this is Christmas in a box and by far my market favourite.

Best for: hangovers and big appetites

Festive factor (out of 10): A straight 10.