Food, Oh-So-Glorious Food

Now, for those of you expecting deep philosophical musings and/or reports of places unknown, I’m sorry to say that you won’t find them in this particular post. Instead, I thought I’d make this short segment an ode to that oft-underrated, and on this blog, too often underrepresented, hero of any world tour (and of life as a whole): food. Yes, that wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles which, for me, condenses all the many-splendored joys of travel into a single bite. That is the topic of this little discourse.

Those of you who’ve seen me eat know that over the course of a day, I can get through a fair amount. Some would say that that’s an understatement, but I’ll leave it at that for now. Anyway, suffice it to say that this tour hasn’t exactly been a diet as far as I’m concerned -- though I’m perfectly happy with the ubiquitous Doner Kabob stands when I want a midnight snack (chicken or lamb, sliced off the spit in front of you, all wrapped inside a deliciously crispy piece of pita bread with lettuce, onions, and a creamy garlic sauce) the local food is so consistently delicious that it’s too good to pass up.


In Strasbourg, for instance, we stopped at a local café, where the grand total of four menu items were presented to us on a blackboard. I was lucky enough to choose the gnocchi au gratin: while Dillon’s vegetable pastilla (pictured in Dillon’s post) was delicious, with its delicate and crispy exterior surrounding green vegetables scented with cinnamon and nutmeg, the gnocchi were truly memorable.


The first thing you notice as the waiter brings the dish to your table is the still-bubbling cheese on the outsides of the plate. The dish is piping hot, and the smell of cheese whets your appetite. As for the gnocchi themselves, resting underneath the layer of cheese and cream, I think Brett described them best as “pillows.” They’re light and fluffy, but with a firm texture. The single perfect bite was one from a corner of the dish -- a piece of burnt cheese, one of the said pillows, a piece of cashew nut, a caper or two, and a small piece of tuna. The texture was wonderful, and the saltiness of the capers, along with the nuttiness of the cashews, made for a perfect combination of flavors. For me, a near-perfect dish.

Later that same day, after a short walk, we came across a café with somewhere between 20 and 30 kinds of gelato. The day was hot, and that was exactly what we were all craving, so I had two scoops, one rose-flavored, and one violet-flavored. Not the most macho of all possible choices, maybe, but it was too tempting and unusual a combination to pass up. (And, for those wondering, the nicely manicured hands below are not my own.)


The rose was creamy and sweet -- I didn’t know that a taste could be so similar to a smell, but if you could taste rose-scented perfume, that would be the taste of that gelato. Not my favorite, overall. But the violet-flavored scoop was really something else: tangy, flowery, sweet, but not too sweet -- on a hot day, it was the perfect refresher.

The next day, Brett and I sat by the foot of Strasbourg’s imposing cathedral for dinner. For my meal, I ordered a tarte flambee, which was described to me as a sort of quasi-pizza. That was indeed what it was -- a pizza minus the sauce and cheese.

In place of those was a light cream sauce with onions and ham atop a paper-thin crust. Lighter on the stomach than a typical pizza, it hit the spot as we watched the sun set on the magnificent cathedral.

The next day, we were headed off to Berlin. Exhausted from the day’s travel, I was not in the best of moods. But as my parents know quite well, the surest way to stop me from being cranky is to feed me. And feed myself I did. Dillon and I shared an enormous -- truly massive -- platter of grilled meat, French fries, and vegetables.


The meat came in all shapes and sizes, ribs, steaks, chicken breasts -- we had our work cut out for us. But, in the most literal sense, we cleaned up. With food on the sides of my mouth, I wasn’t exactly looking my best, but I was certainly satisfied, and I know Dillon was, too. So, all in all, the meal was a resounding success.


Best of all, those meals are just the tip of the iceberg (and I’m sure it reflects something about me that at this moment, that expression just makes me think of lettuce). I could go on about the delicious schnitzel all through Germany, or the superb pork and sauerkraut in Austria, or the surprisingly tasty “boiled mush” here in Slovenia, but this entry’s already gone on a while longer than anticipated, and I can’t expect everyone to be as enthralled by food as I am. Still, maybe these descriptions can give those not traveling with us one more aspect -- a taste -- of this incredible world tour.