When you travel, what do you remember afterward? I remember the food. I have a better memory of eating quiche Lorraine for breakfast on a bench by the Seine in Paris than I do of seeing the Mona Lisa in the Louvre. Of course I remember the big-name sightseeing highlights, but I also remember the Nutella and banana crepe we bought from a stand near the Eiffel Tower; a brioche aux praline in Lyons that was so good we changed our return travel plans back to Paris just so we could eat it one more time; chocolate mint gelato in Florence served by a man in what looked like a crisp white lab coat and perfectly Brylcreemed 1950s hair; kriek cherry beer in Amsterdam, glögg in Copenhagen and a harsh, peaty whiskey in Edinburgh that I downed after (foolishly, in my case) taking the ghost tour of the city; conch chowder in the Bahamas; hot chocolate and a gingerbread man with my little girl in London; and a ploughman’s pub lunch in Canterbury. In Barcelona we spent more time eating tapas and drinking sangria than sightseeing. In the US, I still have clear memories of bratwurst being grilled on the Memorial Union Terrace in the summertime in Madison, Wisconsin; whole crabs in Baltimore, complete with a newspaper-covered table and hammers; lobster in Boston with flimsy plastic bibs and pitchers of beer; a post-wedding brunch at the Ritz in Washington, DC with scallops and bacon, caviar and waiters who seemed to top up my glass of mimosa after every sip; sopapilla and honey in Santa Fe; scoops of ice cream in waffle cones so freshly made on the spot in Bellingham, Washington that they were still warm; and a nondescript hot dog somewhere outside of Charlottesville, Virginia that I remember only because I couldn’t understand a single word the man behind the counter said when he rattled off all the toppings because his Southern accent was so thick, so I just said I’d have what my friend was having.
As for this salad, I had it for lunch on a rooftop café in Tuscany on my honeymoon eight years ago, looking out over rolling countryside that was hazy in the middle of the heat wave they were having at the time. Earlier during that trip, walking across the city on our way to stand in line in the hot sun for an hour to see Michelangelo’s David in Florence and wilting just at the thought of it, I turned to my husband and said, “Will seeing David really make us better people? How about we just go back to the garden at the hotel and drink beer and eat olives instead?” Which is exactly what we did.
What are some of your memories of food and travel?
White Bean and Tuna Salad with Lemon Pepper Dressing
adapted from How to Cook Book Two by Delia Smith
Serves 4 as a light main course or 6 as a starter/light lunch
for the salad:
2 x 14 oz (400 g) cans of cannellini beans
salt and freshly ground black pepper
a few handfuls of arugula (rocket), stalks removed
2 x 7 oz (200 g) cans of tuna, drained
1 red onion, peeled, sliced thinly and deflamed
crusty bread, to serve
for the dressing:
2 cloves garlic, peeled
2 teaspoons Maldon sea salt
1 heaped teaspoon mustard powder, such as Colman’s
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
zest and juice of 1 large lemon (3 tablespoons juice)
To make the dressing, first crush the garlic and salt using a pestle and mortar until the garlic is pulverized into a paste, then work in the mustard powder and pepper. If you have a large pestle and mortar, add the olive oil, lemon zest and juice directly into it and whisk everything together thoroughly. If your pestle and mortar is small (like mine), then scrape the garlic paste into a larger bowl and whisk in the olive oil, lemon zest and juice in that.
Place the beans in a bowl and pour the dressing over, stirring to make sure all the beans are coated. Season generously.
To serve the salad, arrange three-quarters of the arugula (rocket) leaves over the base of one large serving dish (or you could assemble the salad on individual plates), spoon the beans on top and add the tuna fish in chunks. Add the rest of the arugula, pushing some of the leaves and chunks of tuna right in amongst the beans. Arrange the onion slices on top and serve straight away.
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Ahh, breakfast eaten while sitting on a balcony overlooking the town of Enna in central Sicily.
Big jug of steamy milk for our cappuccino, generous flaky pastries, warm sun, but most memorable for the fact that we weren’t expecting to get breakfast there at all! Myself, my sister and one of our college friends were frazzled from travel, had (yet again) gotten up way too late for the nominal hotel breakfast hours, and while we were checking out, the staff, observing that we hadn’t eaten, insisted that we have breakfast before leaving. You should have seen our eyes light up! They then let us linger for ages over fabulous coffee with the best view in town. Most memorable breakfast ever.
As you know, Kristin, all my travel memories involve food. I travel just to eat.
There was the Bresse chicken dish in Paul Bocuse’s Le Nord in Lyon, which made me lose the power of speech.
Ice cream in Lake Orta, Italy: the vanilla was rich, the pistachio was lovely, but it was the nougat that made my knees buckle every time…
I can still picture the cocktails we had in the Ritz, Paris, the night we got engaged. Mine was called Serendipity and came with a freshly-cut red rose draped elegantly over the glass. [Sigh...]
A picnic in a Champagne vineyard. Eating charcuterie and chatting away as the sun set on the very vines that made the champagne in our glasses. Heaven.
The best white peach I’ll ever have. Juice dribbling down my arm as I tried to get the most out it, while holding out a huge road map of Brittany.
Brie, cherries and crème de cerise in a pigeon tower in Loire Valley. Listening to the owls hooting in the big trees and watching it grow dark outside, all the while giggling at the notion of spending a night in a pigeon tower!
A memory from our first holiday in Cork with HoneyB and Himself sipping hot chocolate at O’Connails. Small but precious memory for me.
Pre-HoneyB I would have to say sitting on a bridge in Paris with himself with ice cream from Berthillion. Ahhhh rosemantic
I love white beans and use them often in soups and salads so this dish is right up my alley!
And yes, eating olives and drinking beer definitely contributes much more to your well-being than seeing the statue of David!
There was of course the best cup of tea with Dad on the mountain in the lashing rain. Or perhaps the monkfish skull dinner in Lafranche or perhaps the sausages and beans dinner in the same town where I got to bore you to death with how awesome Dungeons and Dragons was / is…
This whole blog is so nice, I never remember anything about holidays apart from the food. Maybe the wine too.
Spud, that sounds like a breakfast to remember all right. Coffee and pastries is always a good combo, but on a balcony in Sicily is even better.
Emma, I knew you’d have plenty to say on this subject! Can you pack me in your suitcase the next time you go to France?
Gillian, your memory reminded me of one of my own, of having hot chocolate and a gingerbread man with my little girl in a cafe in Hampstead on a cold, grey October day.
Clare, sounds like we both have our priorities in order then! Next time you’re over I’ll send you home with some of the rocket from our garden so you can whip this together.
Matt, how could I forget that mountaintop cup of tea? And I still tell people about that monkfish, worst presentation ever!
Pearse, thanks for stopping by and for the compliment!
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