Five repurposed Zeppelin hangars built between 1924 and 1930 form Europe's largest market complex, a steel-and-concrete tribute to German airship engineering that now shelters 3,000 vendors across 72,300 square metres. The pavilions were constructed using hangars from the Imperial German naval airship base at Vaiņode, dismantled and transported to Riga when Latvia declared independence. Each hangar spans 13 metres in height and accommodates specialized product zones: fish, meat, dairy, vegetables, and gastronomy. The Art Nouveau facades designed by Pāvils Dreijmanis frame the entrances, their terracotta reliefs depicting wheat sheaves and cornucopias. UNESCO inscribed the market alongside Riga's historic centre in 1998, recognizing the fusion of industrial heritage and continuous commercial function. The fish pavilion holds the densest concentration of Baltic Sea specialties: sprats smoked over alder, lamprey preserved in aspic, vendace dried to translucent strips. Vendors arrange their catches on ice beds at dawn, many sourcing directly from Jūrmala and Liepāja fishing cooperatives. The meat hall features charcuterie traditions rooted in medieval guild regulations—smoked pork loin encrusted with caraway, blood sausage bound with barley, cold-smoked bacon aged in birch cellars. Dairy stalls stack wheels of Jāņu siers, the caraway-studded cheese prepared for midsummer festivals, alongside kvass fermenting in oak barrels and skābais krējums, the cultured cream that thickens borscht and potato pancakes. A Riga Central Market traditional food tasting experience tour navigates this density of vernacular production, connecting nineteenth-century preservation techniques to contemporary Latvian identity. Guides lead small groups through vendor relationships built over decades, introducing producers who cure fish using family recipes or bake rupjmaize—dense rye bread—in wood-fired ovens. Tastings occur at stall counters rather than staged settings, conversations conducted in Latvian and Russian reflecting the market's demographic continuity. The gastronomy pavilion added in recent renovations concentrates ready-to-eat offerings: pirāgi filled with bacon and onion, sorrel soup ladled from tureens, honey cake layered with sour cream. Outside the hangars, open-air stalls extend the trading floor across adjacent streets, seasonal rhythms dictating inventory—wild mushrooms in autumn, smoked eel in winter, pickled garlic scapes in spring. The market operates seven days weekly from seven in the morning, foot traffic peaking before midday when housewives and chefs secure first-grade produce.