Mick
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G’day, folks! Mick here — your favourite (Kiwi) local guide, always chasing good yarns, great grub, and the best beer I can get my mitts on. This story starts not at the Eastern Market, but at Busch’s, where I grabbed a 4-pack of a cheeky little brew called Elephant Juice from Eastern Market Brewing Company. Thought it’d be a good one for the cooler, so I chucked it in for a day out on the lake.
There I was, feet up, breeze in my hair, sippin’ this juicy hazy IPA — which, by the way, I gave a solid 4.25 on Untappd— when my father-in-law Kevin squints at the can and goes, “You know that’s from Detroit, right? Eastern Market. We should go tomorrow.” And just like that, the plan was made.
Next morning, we packed up the car, and headed to the heart of the mitten — Detroit’s Eastern Market, right near downtown in the “thumb” zone of Michigan’s iconic shape.
Now, I’ll shoot straight — when we first pulled in, I wasn’t sure if we were in the right spot. Took a few passes and a mildly tense “discussion” with Kevin about whose fault it was we missed a spot before we finally wedged the car in somewhere legal. I had a moment of hesitation too — the area looked a bit sketchy, kinda run-down in parts — had me clutching my man satchel like it owed me money.
But crikey, once we stepped into the market proper, it was like someone turned the volume up on life. Right at the entrance, a Mennonite choir was singing their hearts out — “How Great Thou Art” and “Amazing Grace,” full harmonies and all. It was unexpectedly moving — raw, spiritual, just beautiful.
Inside? Absolute organised chaos in the best way. Folks from every background you can think of — a real multicultural melting pot, bursting with midwestern charm. Vendors and shoppers alike were as friendly as pie. People holding doors for strangers, saying “ohp, 'scuse me” like it’s second nature. Just makes your heart feel full.
At one point, we stumbled onto a full-on showdown between an irate customer and a plant vendor. Lady was losing the plot over a potted something-or-other — not sure if it was begonias or her dignity on the line — but the drama was honestly kind of theatrical. The best part? Everyone just kinda watched while pretending not to. Added a bit of spice to the day.
We stopped for lunch and oh boy — that shawarma. Tender meat, warm pita, garlic sauce that could raise the dead. We paired it with a pint (or two) of fresh beer from Eastern Market Brewing Company — a proper full-circle moment after Kevin’s lake-beer epiphany the day before.
Before we wrapped up, we popped into Bon Bon and grabbed some heavenly handmade chocolates. Pro tip: guard those with your life. I’m hopin’ the family dog, Maya — a Chocolate Labrador — doesn’t get into ‘em like she has in the past. She once ate an entire Easter stash, wrappers and all. And look, while I know retrievers get a lot of love, I’m firmly in Camp Lab. More loyal, more food-obsessed (a personality trait I deeply respect), and Maya's got those “who, me?” eyes that make it impossible to stay mad. Retrievers are like your cousin who gets straight A’s and does triathlons. Labs are your cheeky mate who’ll nick your sausage but always have your back.
Anyway — long story short, Eastern Market’s a beaut. Quirky, real, full of life, and deeply Detroit. If you’re ever in the mitten, don’t miss it. Bring cash, comfy shoes, a camera, and maybe a second man satchel — you’ll be bringin’ home more than you planned.
Catch ya out there —
Mick 🧭 Your Favourite Kiwi Local Guide