Travel

mother_children.jpgWhat does traditional Southern cooking, and traditional Jewish cooking have in common.  One word.  BEIGE!

I was in the Great Smokey Mountains over the weekend, visiting the part of my family who settled there many years ago.  My sister-in-law is a world-class cook, so I knew I was in for some yummy home cooking.  I rarely taste home cooking any more.  It's just me at home.  And I've taken to referring to my kitchen as that room with all the white stuff that I used to be in all the time.

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our-cherry-treeWe arrived this morning in Italy, which makes us very lucky people.

Everything is different here. It’s like Brigadoon. You would think that air is air, sky is sky, light is light – it’s the same wherever you go, the same world, right? Nah. Italy is enchanted. They even speak a different language over here. Crazy, no?

Today – to tide over my jet-lagged body until dinner – I had half a salami sandwich. That’s all we had in the house at that point. I sliced a thin piece of whole grain bread off the loaf, slapped three or four slices of salami on it, folded it in half and took a bite. It’s not the same, baby.

Nowhere else in the world does a salami sandwich taste like this.

I took my sandwich outside to look at our vegetable garden and I noticed that our cherry tree had ripe cherries on it. Crazy, no? The problem is that it’s a big tree, which means that most of the good fruit is ten, fifteen feet off the ground.

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minsterwithwall.jpgOne of the most important historic cities in Great Britain is York. Famous for its towering Minster and ancient walls that surround the city, York was the home to the Romans where in 71 AD the first Roman outpost was created. Today beneath the stage of York Theatre Royal lies a well dating back to that era. An important and spectacular part of the Roman defenses was the Multangular Tower built between 209 and 211 that can be visited on your tour of the walls. Monk Bar Gatehouse is the most elaborate and ornate of the surviving gates and contains a dedication to King Richard 111 who is revered in this city. The Vikings came to York in the 10th century intending to make it the trading post of their kingdom and you can visit the Jorvik Viking Center to board the state-of-the-art flying capsules and travel back in time to experience the sounds, smells and images of the city of Jorvik in AD 975.

York’s winding streets with overhanging beams date back to medieval times and the Shambles is one of the best-preserved shopping streets in Europe lined with quirky boutiques, cafes and bookstores. Georgian York ushered in a period of new elegance still to be seen in many shop fronts in Stonegate. Ghosts, of course, abound in York and every night of the week there are guided walks around the city in search of the supernatural and the unexplained. The Black Swan in Peasholme Green is just one of many York pubs said to be haunted.

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sushi_sm.jpg

Hey, it’s raw. But that doesn’t make it simple.

It’s a commonplace that sushi is a culinary style that comes very close to offering food in it’s natural state. So we expect it to be ridiculously fresh, clean and manipulated only for presentation.

There’s a new-ish sushi place here in Portland, its tiny space appropriately described by many as a jewel. Portland Maine you say? Japanese cuisine in Maine? Then you don’t know just how much of what starts out here in Maine ends up Tokyo’s Tsukiji market – the greatest fish market in the world and a mecca for sushi chefs and other seafood nuts. Ah, but I digress… 

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CR-WeatherMost of my travel is food focused. I’m headed somewhere to meet people who make interesting food tied to a place and to taste that food. Over the past decade I find that the line between vacation, educational junket and personal exploration has blurred. If I travel with food friends then we tend to be like dogs searching for the same tasty bone to turn up. It can get weirdly competitive or punishingly about the next bite even when enough bites have been had by all.

When I started traveling as a kid I wandered. Often I traveled alone, free to choose this road at that speed to stop and see this thing, sink into the culture of that place and eat those dishes. They were my decisions at my pace. No “have to” or “can’t miss”, just wandering and discovery. I miss those days. Of course time tends to be an impediment. I don’t have an extra five or six weeks to spare anymore, so focus is to often at the root of today’s travel.

But, recently a friend (who loves to cook, but is not a foodie) took possession of a long sought shack on the beach in the Pacific Northwest of Costa Rica. She was taking the first trip back to see how the beginnings of rebuilding the shack were going and to install her 21 yr old son for a two-month stay as “remodeling supervisor”. Would I come along?

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