Ever since a month-long stint in the United Arab Emirates more than 20 years ago we’ve become enthusiastic devotees of Middle Eastern food. Several subsequent visits further reinforced that trend but we later realized we need not travel that far to enjoy falafels, kebabs and pita bread.
Travel writer William Least Heat-Moon in his stunning 1982 memoir, Blue Highways: A Journey into America, said you could once tell what side of the Mississippi River you were on by how the catfish was prepared. Some cities and regions have cuisines so distinctive that when blindfolded you can actually tell exactly where you are in the world.
It is said that about half the Norwegians who immigrated to America came in order to escape the hated lutefisk, and the other half came to spread the gospel of lutefisk's wonderfulness.
Here’s a great piece about iconic food items in each of our fifty states by David Rosengarten, a two-time James Beard-winning food journalist and the writers of Flavored Nation. Not sure if I can endorse all of them, but it’s always good to expand your horizons when it comes to unique recipes – which hopefully does not expand your waistline as well.
He may not know how to blow into a didgeridoo or properly throw a boomerang, but the Palladian Traveler does know food. Join him as he demonstrates how to tuck in for brekkie at one of the hippest eateries along the Sunshine Coast.
“Where are all the people?” I asked. “They’re 20 feet below,” laughed my guide. “During the summer, it’s so damned hot that it’s dangerous to be outside. So we live underground in seven miles or so of 95 air conditioned blocks connected by tunnels.”
I couldn’t resist posting this wonderful article by Beverly Jenkins , a humor and pop culture writer. She has published three web humor books and six calendars, including You Had One Job! and Photobombed. Yes, I recall a few of these rather unique dishes from the 60s. I don’t suggest you search them out unless you’re looking for a nostalgic taste of history and adding a few pounds. Bon appétit, I think…
Enjoying our first dinner during a group tour of Sicily, I turned to our guide and told him that the meal was excellent. This being Sicily, the reply was not all that surprising. “You can steal my money but don’t touch my food,” Alessio remarked. He followed that remark by claiming: “If lunch or dinner doesn’t have at least five courses, it’s just a snack.”
I feel like I made it home… but in a strange way. The welcome at the airport lobby, the nauseating drive through the hills, the exhaustion of climbing up only two flights of stairs to my new living area (I like to blame it on the 10,000 ft. elevation), walking up to the roof and seeing patches of clear stars between clouds, waking up to the constant sound of dogs barking and car horns honking through the window...