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I adore seeing the world, and I relish eating, thus whenever I visit a fresh locale I am eager to dine excellently. Especially, I aspire to dine at an establishment where I’d be pleased to eat if I were a resident, but it’s challenging to discern where to begin! In a metropolis such as Paris or London or New York, there’s an overwhelming sense of choice; for a more modest location like, for instance, Lewes, Delaware, there frequently aren’t numerous evident sources of data aside from Tripadvisor’s listings. I share the common complaints of any vacationer uneasy with excessive tourism, and I’m unwilling to visit a spot that primarily caters to individuals from out of town. What course of action do you suggest? —Alex R., Maryland
For an extended duration, my travels were undertaken almost solely for culinary experiences. Each journey, irrespective of the destination globally, was structured around food. I would choose a hotel in Barcelona precisely for the convenience of accessing El Quim de la Boqueria during the early hours, enjoying breakfasts featuring chipirones and eggs. I would synchronize my arrival to Nashville so that the taxi could deliver me to Arnold’s Country Kitchen with sufficient time to indulge in turnip greens and a segment of hot-pepper chocolate pie prior to its closure at two-forty-five. On one occasion, I devised a strategy through Mexico City’s extensive Mercado de la Merced that would permit intervals to renew my appetite between consuming a huarache near the entrance and acquiring tacos de cabeza at a stand near the rear. I have invested the necessary effort, is what I’m conveying, and the consistent lesson I’ve assimilated is that diligence is virtually always fulfilling, indeed—but likewise that meticulously planned schedules are not comparable with optimal contentment. There exists no definitive superior taco. There is no quintessential, ideal model of a bistro. There isn’t a single remarkable bowl of ramen that diminishes all others.
However, each time a trip is approaching, I find myself somewhat anxious. Oftentimes, I seek recommendations from acquaintances in the culinary sphere—I will perpetually express gratitude to Rebekah Peppler, the Paris-based chef and author, for instance, who aided me in grasping the terrain for a recent adventure in the South of France—but it isn’t necessary to possess confidential sources to acquire beneficial knowledge. The majority of the excellent suggestions Peppler provided, such as the revelation that one can discover the finest pan bagnat in Antibes at a beachfront hut named Chez Josy, are also included somewhere within the pages of her captivating cookbook “Le Sud,” rendering my inquiries to her somewhat unnecessary. Surely, location-specific cookbooks stand among the most underestimated travel resources: their introductions, section openers, and recipe introductory notes often cite notably exceptional eateries, areas recognized for their culinary offerings, and additional exclusive recommendations that might otherwise have been omitted for brevity in an online list or a printed tourist pamphlet.
A straightforward reality, albeit slightly disheartening, is that genuine gastronomic secrets are now exceedingly rare. In the event that a food critic or travel writer has patronized a dining establishment, and that location is even moderately above average, you can anticipate that it has been written about. During my quest for suggestions, I prioritize individual social media profiles and newsletters over collaboratively generated websites and mobile applications such as Yelp, Beli, and Tripadvisor. (According to Tripadvisor, the foremost and twenty-third-ranked restaurants in New York City are Sicily Osteria and Piccola Cucina Osteria, neither of which I recognize.) I am inclined to visit at least one exceedingly touristy restaurant during a new excursion, as it’s entertaining to perceive the manner in which a specific city believes it should present itself to visitors, yet mainly I concur with your preference to circumvent tourist traps. I seek out an exceptional venue for a breakfast reflective of local custom, invariably—it’s my favored repast while traveling, and an uncomplicated means of eluding touristic repetition. I search for establishments renowned for their sandwiches, exceptional late-night locales, the city’s oldest restaurant, the subsequent oldest, any location Anthony Bourdain visited, and subsequently any venue that an individual on Reddit proposes Bourdain should have experienced. Most notably, I consider it crucial to cultivate adaptability, both within your plans and your anticipation. On that recent trip, we arrived in Antibes, yet were nowhere proximate to Chez Josy and its Peppler-endorsed, supposedly superb sandwiches—thus I procured a pan bagnat from an alternate beach kiosk, and it proved unsatisfactory, an offensively inferior rendition, showcasing stale bread, a meager quantity of tomato, and uninspired portions of tuna and egg. Nevertheless, it mitigated my craving, and I was positioned in the agreeable sunlight on a Riviera shore, with the waters of the Mediterranean washing against my extremities.
Therefore, very well, let’s enact my advice practically. For a voyage to Lewes, Delaware—gem of Sussex County! Among the initial Colonial settlements in America! Allegedly, the site of a flower celebration!—I would concentrate on distinguishing genuine destinations from the prominent, conspicuous tourist spots. A pursuit for the town’s most venerable restaurant yields limited outcomes. Sussex Tavern, a replica of a circa-1740 inn managed by Lewes’s historical society, offers beverages exclusively, based on formulations from an eighteenth-century record discovered within the village archives. A three-year-old article in Delaware Today concerning eateries housed in historically significant structures mentions a trio of visually charming Lewes locations situated in adjacent Victorian-era mansions, the most enticing of which, in my estimation, is a place named Heirloom, appearing simultaneously contemporary and somewhat refined, ideally suited for a celebratory supper. Turning to Reddit: a current inquiry seeking suggestions for dinner options between Lewes and the nearby Bethany Beach reveals some expected responses, such as the tourist hotspot Matt’s Fish Camp, alongside more intriguing concepts, including Cabañas, an unpretentious Salvadoran eatery, whose Google evaluations (always corroborate!) frequently express enthusiasm for the pupusas. This seems a superb choice for a meal to carry out and enjoy at the seashore. Another commentator recommends the Surfing Crab, citing it as “a concealed local jewel,” although its secrecy may be questionable, given its relatively high ranking on Tripadvisor. It is purportedly operated by third-generation purveyors of seafood huts, featuring wood panelling internally and a sun-faded vinyl sign externally. This appears encouraging! The offering includes devilled eggs and a limitless crab feast subject to a two-hour duration and the invigorating disclaimer “NO SHARING! MUST EAT ENTIRE CRAB (including Claws), Violators Will be Charged, Children Do Not Eat Free.” This, in my view, is heavenly.
Helen, Help Me!
Dispatch your inquiries pertaining to dining, consuming, and any food-related matters, and Helen may furnish a response in a future edition of this newsletter.
I’ve been preparing Caesar salad for longer than forty years. Employing an identical fundamental recipe for the dressing: lemon extract, olive oil, anchovies, red-wine vinegar, perhaps a splash of white-wine vinegar when available, often a slight measure of Dijon mustard, several dashes of Worcestershire sauce, an egg, and inevitably, garlic. During the initial three decades, I meticulously mashed four or five cloves of garlic within a wooden bowl. I would meticulously chop the anchovies by hand. Subsequent to this, I’d agitate it thoroughly within a container until all constituents amalgamated into a dressing. This was a laborious and occasionally untidy undertaking. Presently, I solely emulsify all elements within a blender. I retain affection for my Caesar salad. Am I wicked? —Gary M., British Columbia
I, myself, almost invariably employ a blender, and I’ve been known to substitute mayonnaise for a raw egg. Should a vegetarian be present, I eliminate the anchovy altogether and incorporate a fragment of toasted nori to introduce umami in its stead. Consequently, no, your Caesar salad methodology does not render you reprehensible. Nonetheless, one may still be culpable for a myriad of unrelated non-salad transgressions. ♦
Sourse: newyorker.com
