Travel for me now is a foodie adventure

Doesn’t everything taste better when you are on the road?

Every time I come back from a trip I spend a few days nurturing and caressing my memories. Because I eat for a living many of the memories are about food.

 

I still remember sitting on a small island in the middle of the Nile watching the sun go down, a plate of Egyptian savouries in my hand. I will never forget the view of the sea at Monopoli in Italy’s Puglia region as I clutched at my cone of gelato. And nothing can beat a plate of noodles eaten by the largest Hindu temple in the world; no, not in India but in Cambodia at Angkor Wat.

 

   When the excitement has faded somewhat I start to think a little more dispassionately. Was the gelato really that good or was I just enraptured by the beauty of Puglia? And come to think of it, would I really enjoy those Egyptian savouries without the sunset or the Nile?

 

   My conclusion is that stunning beauty makes everything better, not just food. But so many of my best memories are of places that were not particularly beautiful.

 

   There is something about a hot dog on the street in a busy New York City afternoon that makes it special. I remember sitting, last year, in a cool drizzle on a street in Copenhagen, biting into a hamburger and thinking how delicious it was. The burger had come from the takeaway window at Gasoline Grill, which, as the name suggests, is a gas station that serves hamburgers. So, hardly an example of great beauty.

 

   And what about all my meals in Bangkok, one of the world’s great food cities where the best food is to be found at hawker stalls on broken down pavements or dingy alleys? There is nothing at all beautiful about those locations.

 

   I think sometimes that, more than beauty, it is travel that makes everything better. Of course I have been to great three Michelin star restaurants in many cities. But though Copenhagen’s Noma is one of the world’s best restaurants the Gasoline Grill hamburger still holds its own. Often it is a no contest. I would rather eat Thai food on the cracked streets of Bangkok than at the three Michelin star Sorn. I enjoyed Steirereck with its three Michelin stars in Vienna but the memory that has stayed with me is of eating a Sacher Torte on a small table on the road.

 

   Because so much of travel is about experiences and because so many of the experiences that matter to me are about food, I have now formulated a simple rule: go for the off-beat, leave the Michelin guide at home and try and discover a sense of place. Ultimately even though some restaurants will be so much better than others, they will still be - at the end of the day— restaurants. But that street corner in Cheng Du, that trattoria in Lecce or that sidewalk in Manhattan will be like no other.

 

   And so travel for me now is a foodie adventure. Nearly everywhere I go, I try and eat the local food, even in places where I don’t speak the local language and nobody speaks a word of English.

 

"We travel to see new things, to have new experiences. Otherwise, why bother to leave the house?"

   Twenty five years ago I found myself in Tokyo which seemed even more alien than it does now; like a city from Blade Runner come to life. I would wander into restaurants where the language barrier made spoken communication impossible. Because many Japanese menus have photographs I would point at the pictures and polite Japanese people would be bring me strange and unfamiliar dishes. It sounds too good to be true but honestly, I never had a bad meal.

 

   My wife and I followed the same principle when we went to Sichuan a few years ago and the pointing at pictures thing went so well that we forgot that nobody could understand a word we said. It did pose other problems though; when no server understood when I asked for the bill, I mimed the universal writing-something gesture. They nodded and brought me a pen instead.

 

   I couldn’t find the toilet because we never found the right word so I rushed out to the street to look for a taxi to take me back to the hotel (no, I did not know what the Mandarin word for taxi was), my bladder bursting while my stomach purred contentedly.

 

   It is easier now because there are translation programs but I still haven’t got the hang of them. Nevertheless I am glad they exist. Two months ago at a small dhaba type place in Saigon I did my point-at- pictures routine and was relieved when the waiter used his app to translate my order into English because I had just ordered a plate of minced dog. (He was understanding when I reacted with horror and understood that I wanted to cancel my order.)

 

   But that’s a risk you run when you travel and don’t just stick to bland international food or search for Indian restaurants. It doesn’t just happen at dhabas or street food places. Back in the 1990s, I went to one of the best hotel restaurants in Georgetown, Guyana and told the manager that no, I did not want the hamburger he recommended. I wanted something local.

 

   “Certainly sir,” he responded. “Let me get you the Capybara.”

 

   I was pleased to try something new but I had a nagging feeling that I was not going to like the local specialty. I called the manager back. “Er, what exactly is the Capybara?” I asked. “It’s a large rodent” he explained.

 

   I had the hamburger.

 

   But that’s fine. You live and learn. There really is no point travelling if you are going to eat the kinds of things you could eat at home at restaurants you could find anywhere. We travel to see new things, to have new experiences. Otherwise, why bother to leave the house?

 

   They say that it is better to travel hopefully than it is to arrive. This is not true. There is no point in being hopeful if you don’t arrive.

 

   So here’s my version: it’s better to travel adventurously than it is to play safe. Travel should broaden the mind. And, in my case, broaden the waistline.