When we decide on a trip we generally have food and wine expectations and those expectations have even been the reason we’ve selected one country over another. Hence we may now never see the pyramids in Egypt. We were trying to decide between Egypt and South Africa. We chose South Africa because they produce wonderful wines. We know that, as a rule, primarily Muslim countries aren’t the places to go for good wine. Or bacon for that matter.
And if we want to savor sushi we should go to Tokyo, right? Wrong. The best sushi we’ve ever had was served in a remote outpost of the Wild Atlantic Way in Ireland. And it was served with whiskey. Someone wisely decided that Guinness isn’t the ideal beverage for every occasion in Ireland, but whiskey and sushi?
And speaking of South Africa (we were at one point, weren’t we?) we expected and found fine cuisine in Cape Town but for some odd reason expected to eat mostly rice and beans on the safari portion of our trip.
On the long drive from the the tiny airport to the safari lodge we passed field after field growing fruits and vegetables. Avocados, mangoes, figs, bananas, corn and even more exotic things like quince and lichis. One thing they definitely didn’t grow or serve on a safari in South Africa was rice or beans. Who would think that a vegetarian could happily thrive in a land where the lions roam?
Neither of us is a vegetarian but Brunette could probably live on salads (and wine) . Blonde, however, gets her carnivore cravings and after seeing the food chain in action she couldn’t resist challenging it. So, on our last night in South Africa she apprehensively ordered Springbok at the Intercontinental Hotel at Johannesburg airport. This was clearly the place to have it in an authentic setting. And she loved it and had it for all of our other meals there and would appreciate it if they see this post and reach out to ship her a fresh order. She tried to feel bad about it but she’d learned to like venison years ago in New Zealand and once you eat Bambi’s mommy or daddy you’ve turned a corner and you don’t look back.
We’ve been to Italy many times and know we love the food and wine there. But we tend to get in trouble for doing things in the wrong order.
We received a loud and stern reprimand for our behavior at a salad bar one day and more than once were chased out of our chairs at gelato shops. After several years we realized that if you want to sit in a chair you pay a different price for the gelato. OK, we’ve got that now!
But why is it such an eye-roller if we order cappuccino after 11:00 a.m.? Or God forbid, after dinner in a restaurant? Silvio Berlusconi can be convicted of not paying taxes, have an ongoing string of scandals involving prostitutes, be a constant criminal defendant and until very recently still get elected to high office. Why? We think it’s because he doesn’t drink cappuccino after 11:00 a.m. Anything else can be forgiven.
We also, perhaps deservedly this time, got some serious looks of Italian disapproval at a restaurant in Lucca that had “Striped chicken chests with speck” on the menu. This was probably a “you had to be there” sort of thing but it made us both sob with laughter and the waiter wasn’t a giggly or indulgent chap.
Although we both love the Mediterranean diet we weren’t quite sure what to expect of Greek cuisine when we went to the Peloponnese region. Our interest in the region’s food even led to us doing something we’ve never done before – taking a cooking class. It turns out the cuisine there is bland, heavy, rich and takes a ridiculous amount of time to prepare.
We did find solace in the ubiquitous Greek salads – many of them!
But we never got adjusted to choosing our fish for dinner from a drawer of dead fish. How do you decide which one will be good? (Hint: you ask the guy to pick one for you.) And Blonde even learned to eat a fish’s head, a skill that you never know when it will come in handy.
At least we knew we would have good coffee when we went to Indonesia and stayed on a coffee plantation near Java. A tour of the plantation was very informative and the demonstration of the work and care it takes to produce and process the beans raised our hopes. As we sat to drink our coffee we tried to look pleased but were both horrified that it tasted like the Nescafe our grandmother drank in the last century! Everywhere we went in Java the coffee was powdered and dreadful.
You want a good cup of coffee? Then go to Iceland! They do a nice job with their minke whale steaks and an even better one with their coffee. Every cup is a thing of beauty and you can drink it at any hour you please and they will never roll their eyes at you.
We’re getting too hungry to prattle on any longer but it is important to offer the cautionary tale of what you may look like upon return from a trip to a country with a cuisine you indulge in with too much enthusiasm. This picture was done with an app called FatBooth but it bears an eerie resemblance to what Blonde actually looked like the last time she brought extra poundage back from Italy.
If you don’t want to gain weight on a trip we recommend Croatia, a wonderful country with what appears to be the identical lousy, unappetizing menu is every restaurant. It’s still more fun than Weight Watchers!