It's Not Always About the Food

A while ago, I talked about the food experiences which remain cemented in my mind as transcendent. I can still taste the shrimp ceviche which altered my understanding of food as a whole. I love food, even if I don't nerd out on it. I had a friend who planned his whole weekend around eating experiences. While I greatly admire that level of dedication to the craft, I'm just excited when I bump into a food based experience which changes me. My encounters with food are much less planned than they could be.

And while obviously, while the food is best part of eating, there is something about eating in a place or situation that is so unique that you remember it. And since my quest for food tends to be more spontaneous than planned, I have found myself in some food situations which because of the logistics, remain rooted memories even years later. I thought I'd share some of them today.

Off the coast of Maui: When I was in my twenties, I lived in Maui. My family came to visit, and we decided to go full tourist and book an evening dinner/whale watching trip.

My mom, brother, dad, and I boarded the boat and were shown to our table. We sat on the deck along with the hoards of other tourists and enjoyed the shimmery sunset and warm Hawaiian breeze. I do not remember anything about the main course of the meal. But I do remember they came out with little plates of cheese cake for desert. The waiter told us it was cheese cake when he sat it down.

My dad greatly despises any food with texture changes. It's been a thing his entire life. He grew up on a ranch told me about drinking raw milk with clots of cream in it and throwing up. My mom loves eating Grape Nuts in yogurt. My dad goes pale at the mention of it.

So there we were, on deck of this sunset whale watching cruise, enjoying our evening, when lo and behold, we get four plates of white desert. My dad took a bite. His jaw dropped, his eyes popped, and he looked like he was moments from spewing chunks all over my mom, who sat across from him.

He managed to spit out the mouthful into a napkin.

"This ice cream is bad," he managed.

My mom, brother, and I just stared at him. He looked like he might pass out. Finally, I said, "Dad, it's cheese cake, not ice cream."

He considered me like I might not be human then jerked.

"Really?" he said. "Oh thank god."

And then he ate the rest of it without complaint.

Amtrak Platform, El, Paso, TX: Several years ago I got the hair-brained idea that traveling across the country via Amtrak was going to be rad. And, it was so cheap in coach! So I spent 80 hours in coach, traveling from Palm Springs, CA to New Orleans, LA, to Chicago, IL, and finally to Denver, CO in coach on Amtrak.

Let's just say, I learned a lot while traveling in coach, and a lot of it was why Amtrak coach isn't the best way to travel.

In coach, you do not have access to the dining car. In fact, in coach, you are locked in coach, and you cannot get past the observation car. Porters will glare at you if you rattle the handle dining car handle. Ask me how I know this.

Point being, you are stuck with whatever food you brought or food from the little cafe. And, to be clear, they know you have no other options, so the cafe the prices reflect the reality of your situation.

I was sitting in the observation car as we neared El Paso. The conductor came over the intercom and announced that we would be at the El Paso platform soon, and he wanted to let us know, the El Paso burrito woman was on the platform.

A series of cheers exploded throughout the car. Next to me, a very young couple, who looked like they might moonlight as furies burst, into an excited conversation about what flavors of burrito she might have today.

Needless to say, my interest was piqued.

When we stopped I lined up to get off the car. It took me half a second to see the line forming at the far end of the platform. I took my place, still not certain if this was a good idea.

The October day wasn't too hot, by Texas standards, and a dusty wind blew across the platform. I waited patiently, and finally arrived before the burrito woman herself. Clad in long sleeves, cloth gloves, a bandana, sunglasses and a low hat, she could have been anyone. In front of her were several soft-sided coolers. A sign in Sharpie detailed the flavors. She pointed to them.

I bought two green chile and cheese burritos, wondering if meatless was the better way to go while trapped on a train with limited restroom options.

I wandered back to the train with my two burritos. Or where they gut explosive devices? Did I want to risk this?

I rolled the dice and ate the first one once the train began to roll Eastward.

It was delightful.

And, it was not a GI bomb.

The El Paso burrito lady was no sham. Thank God because a day later, a homeless man took up residence in the bathroom, and access to the facility was limited for the rest of the trip.

Ferry on the Bosphorus, Istanbul: On a rainy, February day my husband and I decided to ride a ferry to the end of the line on the Bosphorus. We had no objective in this, we just wanted to see the sights.

The ferry had multiple levels, and the inside was made of wood. Old metal radiators colonized the walls, and we found seats next to a window and a heater. Rain slicked the glass, and the gray sky merged with the grey tinged water. I felt so far from my home and the twenty-first century. It was lovely.

We then discovered a little cafe by the restrooms. They sold various sundries, including cups of tea.

We bought cup after cup of tea and watched the banks of the Bosphorus slide by. At times we talked, and sometimes we simply sat sat in radiator warmed silence, drinking Turkish tea and listening to the chug of the engines and the slosh of the water. We had nowhere to be. Nothing to do. And it was perfect.

Sometimes, even if the food isn't perfect, the moment is.