WRITE FOOD, WILL TRAVEL

(Or is it write travel, will eat?)

Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern of The Travel Channel are two lucky people. Both love to travel, write, and eat - and do all three things simultaneously and get paid for it.

As to the rest of us, travelling and eating are all a matter of paying.

Which is why everytime I travel, I do my homework. I read food critics' and consumers' reviews, look for Zagat ratings, and listen to words-of-mouth, of restaurants in the places I have to go to. This way, even if I pay, every cent has to be worth it.

I like restaurants that speak for the city. Food is a great sub-cultural barometer, and you can tell a place's "otherness" (or sub-culture) from the type of eateries therein popular. San Antonio, Texas has great German restaurants - and this tells you something about the city's populace other than Mexican. Washington, DC is probably where you can eat the best Ethiopian dishes that side of Africa - and again it gives you a good presumption of the presence of Ethiopians, diplomats or not, in the country's capital.
----------
I love Vietnamese food. Everytime I go to Manhattan, I make it a point to eat at Saigon Grill at least everyday, har, and it doesn't stop me to wonder, if Vietnamese food is so good at Saigon Grill, how else will I describe Vietnamese food served in Vietnam? I'll probably go to Cam Ranh and drown myself in pho ga while analyzing the different nuances of broth, hmmm, this is anise, yum, here is cinnamon!
----------
Miami is a melting pot of Latin cultures, and this means that to be in Miami is to be a student of Latin food. Make no mistake. Even if Latin countries learned their food lessons from conquering Spain, their traditional dishes are way too distinctive from one another. Which is why for a start, visiting different Latin eateries and trying their small staples are a great idea: Tamales from Colombia are different from Uruguay's. Empanadas from Argentina are not similar with those from Cuba.
---------
One time my Uncle B (Mom's brother) came to visit us in Miami and I brought him to a small Nicaraguan eatery called Fritanga Managua. Uncle B, who was 72 years old, jumped with joy like a kid after getting out of the car. I asked why, and he said, Makakalibre tayo sa pagkain. I asked him, How so?, and he said, Ayun, di mo ba nababasa?

Free tanga.