TRAVEL! (Second Edition)

A tea set in Malahide Castle

To continue my bit of travel advocacy, I’m focusing a topic everyone thinks about, but also does not think about: food. We like to think about food in a gratifying way, imagining the exotic flavors of the new dishes that a different country might offer, hoping for that culture’s gratification through taste. But we also tend not to think of food’s implications beyond the steaming entrée arriving to rest on the dish beneath our salivating mouths. And food has definite implications for the people who eat and explain it.

Before I begin, I’m not here as a critic or a connoisseur so that anyone can taste vicariously through me. Honestly I’d be a poor palate-tickler. My food preferences are indiscriminate; if it hasn’t gone bad and can fill up a large plate or two, I’ll likely enjoy it. It’s just that I’m now beginning to see that food can inform you of its context and its devotees.

Take Eddie Rocket’s, where I found myself ordering coffee at ten p.m. with the friends who’d come along out of the hoarse karaoke event where we’d spent the evening. The place is a retro diner done in the style of American fifties, all glinting chrome, plush booths, and black and white tiles. I’m not sure if it is modeled to be the foreign sibling of the familiar Johnny Rocket’s, but the explanation is plausible. Powerhouse Johnny wouldn’t be too annoyed by the attempt. One American, three French, and two Germans in a discount American diner. Even if the conversation hadn’t gravitated around food, I still might’ve remembered vividly the oddity of familiar cuisine in the Dublin night.

Four of my companions ordered burgers, and the fifth settled on chicken tenders. My cup of Americano sufficed after the dinner I’d prudently wolfed down earlier. So I was able to watch American staples work their way through the uncharted territories of French and German palates. Not that American food is alien here; most towns feature one pizza parlor at minimum. I just found it fascinating to see how others receive the most basic of my home’s food, beyond the mere terminology I’ve already noticed (fries dubbed “chips,” chips dubbed “crisps”). One of the French cut her burger with her utensils. It would’ve seemed so very, very wrong, if I hadn’t seen how the burger bulged out of the bun when she picked it up like an American. Jokingly, one friend asked, “Is this the way to do it?” Yes, but the serving isn’t nearly big enough. Maybe they found out a little more about the American eating of American food through me being there. Or maybe I’ve made them afraid to visit, with my descriptions of Texan portions.

Much of our conversation centered around the foods of our respective nations, prompted by the question, “What’s your favorite food?” Turns out, we all enjoy our meals too much to exclude any of them with the “favorite” label, and so we edited the question: “What food would you choose for your birthday?” Most of them named dishes I’d never heard of, raclette, or an obscure goulash, to which I could only nod slowly. There was no bluffing; my basic confusion betrayed me by plastering my face with a wide-eyed look. They were happy to explain, after a shared chortle around the table. The memory strikes me. It’s not only that I didn’t know the dishes, but also that my friends knew them so well and thought of them so fondly. One of the French punctuated her chosen meal with an “Oh, la-la,” her expression too earnest to laugh at. How could I have guessed what their food means to them?

There arose a sort of language between us, within the mundanely rapturous talk of food. My choice food was a paella littered with chicken, sausage, and shrimp, the return of the savory dream my mother often cooked. The Spanish dish received nods all around; we were all tasting it from memory. For that moment, every one of us understood the message beyond the words. With the jumble of French, German, and English we’d spoken until that point, that little transcendence hadn’t happened. But food, the concept as much as the taste, was the key to our moment of shared literacy. Again, how could I have guessed that?

There is no way to guess what will best resonate with people. But food might be a safe bet, if I can trust the Eddie Rocket’s conversations. After all, it’s something we all need to do and something we all often enjoy. That usually means it’s something we can all understand.