Culinary joys

As anyone who knows me can attest, I’m rather fond of the culinary arts. So much so that my dad enjoys teasing me about it. You see, on my first big solo trip to Europe, I had kept a blog—just a little journal to keep my family and friends appraised of my travels. Proof-of-life, if you will. My dad likes to remind me how whenever I’d talk about a particular place, I’d promptly switch over from any discourse about landmarks or museums and launch into a passionate and detailed recollection of my meals and interactions around said meal. “The Louvre is great, but this little cafe across the street…”

He’s not wrong. For me, food is a big part of my travels. In a world that’s increasingly becoming filled with the homogeneous chains and commodities, food tends to remain a devoutly authentic expression of a place. To me, the plate is a conversation. Whether a restaurant, cafe, or bar—it has a distinct sense of place. And, to me, food can very much be art: The flavors, aromas, presentation, set…