Whenever I am in a foreign place I feel compelled to eat the local junk food. When Rob and I were in France last spring we stopped into Carrefours Supermarché on the way to the house in Languedoc to stock up on wine, crisps and chocolate. I hardly ever buy crisps in Los Angeles but oddly I can't seem to have enough of them in France. It's become an equation. France = Crisps. Je préfère le saveur barbeque.
And Speculoos cookies. They're Belgian delights, but again I associate the endless packets of slightly spiced cookies with France.
When Rob visited Munich in June, he brought back tinned fish. The Germans appreciate a good tinned fish and have invented interesting flavors. Like light mustard sauce with diced carrot.
Rob's friend Ryota is from Japan and cooks brilliantly. The first time I met Ryota he whipped up Okonomiyaki, the delicious pancake stuffed with vegetables and seafood. Traditionally you squeeze strings of mayonnaise across the top and sprinkle flakes of smoked fish until they shimmer on the surface like iridescent scales. Japanese comfort food. I ate quickly and greedily, punctuating my pancake with gulps of Asahi stout beer. At the end of the night I was offered a green-tea Kit Kat.
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