La Boqueria had no roof for most of its life. Tables of meat stood beside the Portal de la Boqueria, a gate in the medieval wall, from the 13th century onwards, and for some six hundred years the market traded in the open street. A convent occupied the ground behind the stalls until it burned down in 1835. The plot was cleared, and from 1840 the city laid out a formal square in its place, hoping the stalls would become tidy and permanent. They stayed as crowded and disorderly as before. The metal roof everyone photographs went up only in 1914.
Inside, the goods change as you walk. Cut fruit and juice crowd the Rambla end, priced for people passing; deeper in, the light drops and the fish hall opens at the centre, all ice, steel and shouted numbers. The back rows are the quiet trade: salt cod, cooked chickpeas sold by weight, offal laid out without apology. Cooks still shop here early, and so do people buying one hake for lunch. By the middle of the day the aisles move shoulder to shoulder, and the small bar counters between the stalls cook for whoever got a stool.