Very early in the morning on the best weekends of my childhood, my grandfather would shake my shoulder and when my eyes popped open, his smile told me it was time to go fishing. I would slip out of my snug bunk in our rustic lake house we called "The Camp", being as quiet as a little kid can be so as not to wake my brother and sister. He was dressed in well-worn khakis and a plaid, button up shirt, and had already made and drunk some coffee, the rest of which he poured in a dented green Thermos. I can't remember for sure - I was not then the foodie I am now - but I probably had the kind of breakfast a dad or granddad would make, like butter and jelly on untoasted white bread. We headed down to the boathouse where Robert, my grandfather's guide and fishing buddy, would be loading all the gear into the boat. They were quite the pair, white-headed, compassionate Southern gentleman and African American younger man, passionate about fishing and life.
Lake Bisteneau, in northwest Louisiana, is man-made and full of trees, mostly cyprus draped with iconic tendrils of Spanish moss overhanging the green water. The waterways are obscure, as were the paths when it was still a forrest I'm sure. Local knowledge was crucial and between my grandfather and Robert, we had a boatload of it. As the aluminum fishing boat skimmed through the slowly evaporating fog hovering over the surface of the water, I was filled with excitement not only for the boat ride but also for the possibilities of the morning. I knew we were in for a special time, just the three of us, and often in a secret place - one of the fishing holes known only to my grandfather and Robert. I can still feel the thrill of knowing I was being let in on a secret spot that would be quickly spoiled if word got out.
Now that I'm grown and a full-fledged foodie, well-kept secrets in the restaurant world have a similar aura. I love helping fellow food enthusiasts enjoy glorious meals around the world by sharing with them my favorite places but I get concerned about restaurants being ruined if they get too popular and a reservation becomes impossible to get. I intentionally avoid any casual restaurant recommended in "Lonely Planet", figuring it has long ago gotten compromised by that kind of fame. Some chefs, as it turns out, are much more forthcoming with their secrets, generously wanting success for their colleagues in the industry and hoping that the favor gets returned for their establishments. And so, with some trepidation, I'm going to share with you my newest foodie find.
Browsing a museum bookstore in Antwerp, I spotted an inches-thick book whose cover proclaimed in large letters "Where Chefs Eat".
Although I'm traveling for four months and acutely conscious of the weight of everything I buy, I seriously considered purchasing it to guide my restaurant choices in the 10 countries left on my itinerary. They were all there! This is not a guide to restaurants in Paris, in France, in Europe or even the Northern Hemisphere. It is a guide to restaurants all over the world - and all over the world is where I travel.
My first inclination was no, no way I'm lugging that thing with me. I'll just jot a few notes about the next couple of cities and buy it after I get home. I stood by the table where it was displayed and scribbled furiously, obviously not intending to buy and ready to stop my research but only if the shopkeeper asked me to. I'm getting better and better at knowing when the "apologizing is better than asking permission" adage makes a lot of sense. I soon realized I wanted to know every single word in that book, even descriptions of restaurants in places like Oman I may never visit. By the way, if you're ever in Muscat, the not-to-be-missed place is simply called The Restaurant. My next thought was maybe it's digital and I can download it to my iPhone. I tried to check but couldn't get service in the shop. I held it in the palm of one hand, slowly bouncing it up and down to get a sense of the weight. I don't know what kind of paper they used, but the publishers clearly had thought of the concerns of a traveller and crafted this book out of some kind of miraculously lightweight paper so it was much lighter than it looked. Still, practicality won out and I decided to trust 21st century technology. I walked away.
As it turns out, there is no ebook version. There's something better: an app! An app complete with maps that, together with my iPhone GPS, show me not only where the place is from where I am but where the other recommended restaurants in the neighborhood are as well. Thousands of restaurants all over the world are written up in categories that include not just "High End" but "Breakfast", "Late Night", "Neighborhood" and "Budget" categories. It also has some more special ones under the headings "Worth the Travel" and my favorite, "Wish I'd Opened". It is compiled by chefs from many nationalities and purports to be where they eat when traveling to many of the places I visit. It's like having a talented and knowledgable friend who knows all the fabulous foodie haunts all over the world! You can search by location, alphabetically and by the particular chef recommending it. Some of the restaurants are annotated which makes the choice particularly appealing; I wish they all were. One I tried was closed, possibly only temporarily, but that's the beauty of the digital version in that it can be updated easily.
This app is my new favorite techno toy. My Irish adventures, in fact, were largely guided by where this new resource suggested I go. First was Farmgate Cafe in the English Market in Cork. My traveling companion, Lucille, and I arrived mid-afternoon after a long drive from Dublin and we were famished. We could only glance quickly at the tantalizing market before heading upstairs to the self-serve cafe that had the advantage of no wait unlike the restaurant. We were assured that the food was the same, directly sourced from the market below. "With an enviably short supply chain, oysters are shucked to order," the app had told me, "one of the staff popping downstairs to the fishmonger Pat O'Connell as the need arises." We let our eyes overrule even our ravenous bellies and way over-ordered positively yummy food: raw oysters of course, seafood chowders, savory ham and cheese tart served with two salads, chicken sandwich also with salad, hot apple crumble with cream, lemon tart and local hard cider! We settled into the counter at the rail overlooking the market below. Every bite was as good as advertised - and I was hooked.
We spent the night in Cork at a modest but cheery B&B and enjoyed the good fortune of arriving for Ireland's Culture Night when public buildings are open for free and many music and dance performances are available. We then headed to Kinsale, a charming seaside village with a vibrant arts community and a 17th century fortress. "Where Chefs Eat" contributor Paul Flynn highly recommended Fishy Fishy Cafe and it did not disappoint. The oysters and chowder were so good in Cork we had to have more, just to compare, right? But the best dish was my grilled scallops on risotto with spinach and a fresh tomato salsa, all swimming in a marvelous sauce. All that seafood tasted so fresh it had definitely slept in the sea the night before. Although the patio looked delightful, we sat on the second floor near a balcony with the glass doors open, sunlight and breezes streaming in. The bees were as attracted as we were to our yummy food; Lucille HATES bees, but that was the only downside to our fabulous lunch.
Chef Derry Clarke put Pichet Restaurant in Dublin in the "Wish I'd Opened" category and I can see why. Easily accessible in the center city, you can either eat lunch at the cafe or do as I did on the last day in port and book a reservation in the dining room. My friend Mary Beth heard me touting it and volunteered to accompany me as a break during her self-guided Joycean tour of the city. She had done her dissertation on Joyce and entertained me at lunch with stories of discovering obscure sites important in his life and writings.
Although I was getting sick and feeling definitely below par, I had a delicious lunch of tomato and basil soup and a succulent piece of salmon on top of three fabulous and distinctly flavored and colored sauces, the reliable mark of a great chef in my experience.
My culinary adventures in Lisbon, guided again by "Where Chefs Eat", were somewhat mixed although no fault of the chefs. Chef Henrique Sa Passoa wishes he had opened 1300 Taberna in the LX Factory redevelopment district, calling it an "achingly cool wine bar and restaurant that is as eclectic as they come". The funky decor of chandeliers made of spoons and other repurposed objects is the place for in-the-know residents to enjoy a Saturday lunch. I was on American/ship stomach time and skulked around their doorway until they finally opened at 1:00 pm. I had the place to myself for a good half hour when the aficionados began arriving, upscale local families with babies in highchairs and thirteen-year-olds glued to their iPhone games. Portuguese restaurants charge for pre-meal bread, an unpleasant lesson our students learned, but 1300 Taberna deserves the few Euros for their extraordinary bread basket, distinctive local olive oil and butter infused with herbs and finely minced ripe olives. The beer bread was made from their own beer with a sweet, crunchy crust and interior the consistency of angel food cake. Also in the basket were a moist, savory cheese bread and focaccia so special it needed no dips or spreads. I should have quit there. I ordered the "fresh salmon on crab risotto". I love risotto and thought that sounded yummy. The rice dish tasted like a fish market smells, a fish market uncovered in the midday sun in a small inland village hundreds of kilometers from the nearest ice cube. I would have been okay with just eating the fish had it had any trace of seasoning at all which it sadly didn't. For the first time in my life, when the waiter said "Didn't you enjoy your meal?", I replied "No, actually, I didn't." He shrugged, I chalked it up to "you win some, you lose some" and went immediately next door to Landeau.
The New York Times Travel section, in its "36 Hours in Lisbon" had declared that its chocolate cake was "devilishly good" and so it was. Multi-sourced research wins the day.
The New York Times Travel section, in its "36 Hours in Lisbon" had declared that its chocolate cake was "devilishly good" and so it was. Multi-sourced research wins the day.
My second foray into the Lisbon dining scene was for a late lunch/early dinner the last day in port. It had similar Plan B success. My iPhone GPS led me directly to O Cadete, a "Where Chefs Eat" budget recommendation in the Baixa area of the central city. Unfortunately it was shuttered with construction materials stacked out front. Another day on another trip perhaps. As luck would have it, a tiny sushi restaurant was next door and I had been craving sushi for weeks, along with Everything bagels and Mexican food, my standard list of favorites I miss from home. I struck up a conversation with the Portuguese manager who was minding the store until his Japanese chef and assistant arrived later. I eyed a small quantity of fish in the glass case beyond the high counter and boldly asked if he was sure it was fresh. He smiled wryly at my rudeness and said "Of course, madam. I bought it from the market myself this morning." He said the quantity was low but his colleagues were bringing more soon, which in fact they did. I decided to trust him and that proved to be a wonderful choice. I enjoyed a fabulous salmon roll, an interesting and gracious conversation with someone I had probably offended, then headed off for some dulce de leche gelato before returning to the ship.
My new favorite toy has only one recommendation for Morocco and none for Ghana so I am now deep into researching the 20 suggestions for the Cape Town area. I have five days to enjoy there and some old favorite restaurants to revisit. I now know from experience that the chef contributors to "Where Chefs Eat" will lead me to some glorious food adventures and I can't wait. I'm so glad they decided to share some of their secrets with the rest of us, as my grandfather did with me. I suspect, however, that these chefs saved some back for themselves. He passed away long ago but I know my grandfather took with him a few secret fishing holes shared only with Robert.
