Gargoyles to Gaudi – Walking in Barcelona

Eight or more sleepless hours in a cramped plane and jet lag looming, my proven solution to getting "on time" while on holiday is to get out and walk, letting sunshine fool my constitution into believing I haven't travelled. If you have more than a day to explore, a city orientation walk is also a good chance to get the lay of the land before deciding what you really want to see, and pay for, when you're better acclimated. When we escaped confinement on Air Canada Rouge and shambolic customs queues at Barcelona's El Prat airport at 11:30am on a Thursday morning, my body screamed that it was only half past 4. After checking into our hotel, we hit the pavement immediately lest we be lured by the ever deadly post-flight nap.

From our base at the Hotel Catedral de Barcelona, the obvious choice for a day 1 walking tour was to roam the central Gothic quarter of the old city and explore outwards in search for classic works of the famous Catalan Modernist architect Antoni Gaudi, trusty Tom's Port Guide in hand.

PortLand Malt Shoppe, Duluth, Minnesota

Malted milkshakes invoke images of 50s drug stores, Norman Rockwell and long summer days in small-town America. Today, nowhere brings back those memories any better than the PortLand Malt Shoppe in Duluth, Minnesota. There are other ice cream desserts offered as well, but a chocolate malt topped with whip cream, a vanilla wafer and a maraschino cherry makes for a little bit of heaven in your hand for $6.95, and it's worth the price. That's why there are often very long lines. The secret ingredient is malted milk powder, a once popular staple of frozen treats that gives a satisfying crunchy texture to the shake while coming up easy through the straw.

Potato Hedonism in Central New York

A delicious dish is a sensory experience that always takes you back to its place of origin.

Nineteenth century Irish salt workers in Syracuse, New York lunched on young potatoes boiled in the brine of natural salt springs "mined" for production of consumable salt. They inadvertently invented a regional summertime classic that is unique to the area and proof that the simplest recipes sometimes deliver the most sublime flavor.

Mỹ Hương Kitchen - A Slice of Vietnam in Minnesota

I've eaten at hundreds of Vietnamese restaurants all over North America and the Asia-Pacific regions, ranging from holes-in-the wall to high-end, and hands down I've had no better Vietnamese food or dining experience than at Mỹ Hương Kitchen in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

I'll Have Some of Umekes' Poke, Mon

Fancy a sashimi salad?

Poke (pronounced POH-kay) is an Hawaiian word simply meaning cut, cubed or sliced, but it's come to refer to bite-size pieces of seasoned raw fish, the Hawaiian take on ceviche. Traditional poke contains reef fish seasoned with anything the native fisherman had handy. Sea salt, limu (seaweed), roasted ground candlenut (kukui), sesame oil, chopped chili peppers, and a dash of soy sauce came to be considered the classic components.

Today, the main ingredient is likely to be meltingly-tender, cubed raw ahi tuna (yellowfin), and contemporary seasonings include avocado aioli, seeds, Maui onions, and just about anything else, reflecting the marriage of many cultures in Hawai'i. The Japanese influence is particularly strong. Poke is often served with a scoop of rice. Now, it's just as often the main dish as it is a pupu (appetizer). As for other other "peasant fare" or street food, poke is a local staple that's entered the pantheon of gourmet cuisine.

Aloha in a Cup

Can a frozen treat thaw out a cold heart? At Uncle Clay's House of Pure Aloha, you'll learn that it can and that the Hawaiian "aloha" means so much more than just hello or goodbye.

Shaved--not crushed--for a snow-like consistency, so it can absorb flavored syrups, shave ice originated in Japan but is now the iconic Hawaiian confection. Stands or shops can be found on nearly every corner,  Traditional Hawaiian shave ice is served in a cup with one or more flavors (three is a popular number) and a scoop of vanilla ice cream and/or azuki bean paste beneath the ice, possibly topped with sweetened condensed milk. But you can have it served any way you want it. Kids will want to stop at every venue.

I tried the shave ice at several places that locals said were the best for that part of Hawai'i--the Low Store in Pepeekeo near Hilo, Scandinavian Shave Ice in Kailua-Kona (Scandi's), and the Magoo's truck in Diamondhead Crater. All of them were very good, but one place stands far above the rest, Uncle Clay's House of Pure Aloha (HOPA). I can say unequivocally Uncle Clay's makes the best shave ice in Hawai'i, and since Hawai'i is the global ground zero for this treat...

Going Nuts for Macadamias on Hawaii

Macadamia Nuts are native to Australia, but the first large-scale commercial plantations were Hawaiian. Now the nut is nearly synonymous with The Aloha State. Sure, other search engines may have started up before Google, but no-one ever says they need to "yahoo" something. Such is the cultural association of the macadamia nut with Hawaii. Australia was left kind of like that guy who gives away an old painting from his attic that later turns out to be the lost work of a master. 

And if the nut is now identified with Hawaii, so too Hawaiian macadamias are identified with Mauna Loa Macadamia Nut Corporation. There are other plantations to be sure; actress Roseanne Barr owns one near Kona, and I had very good samples from Hamakua, but I wasn't in Hawaii to experience Rosie's nuts. I wanted to see where that product came from when I first discovered macadamia nuts as a kid.

Everyday Things to do and See on Providenciales, Turks and Caicos

It's January or maybe February in the northern hemisphere. The holidays are over, and suddenly snow isn't quite so merry. The cold seems more biting than crisp. This is when I dream of beaches and tropical breezes to transport me to that summer siesta I crave without wishing months of my life away. That dream might take me to Grace Bay on Providenciales in the Turks and Caicos.

Providenciales, called Provo locally, was rated the best beach destination in the world by TripAdvisor in 2011. I have my own favorites elsewhere, but I won't hotly argue the point. The electric-blue waters surrounding the islands, technically part of the Atlantic Ocean rather than the Caribbean, are simply stunning. The Turks and Caicos are geographically part of the Bahamas Islands group (or vice versa), but--resorts aside--the T&C have an upscale, much less developed and tacky feel than many parts of their Disneyfied northern neighbor.

A Visitor's Guide to Holiday Meals in America

We travel to see the world, but whether in spirit or in person, we also export our own stamp upon those people we visit. It's easy to forget that our hosts in different places may be just as interested in us as we are in them. Perhaps the best window into the soul of a community is through its food, and festive occasions bring out the best in a national cuisine (or the worst). And what I know best is the American standard. The five-week holiday season--Thanksgiving, Christmas or Hanukkah through to New Year's day--is a triumvirate of opportunity for large family gatherings. So may this serve as an introduction to traditional American holiday fare for those five or seven people who haven't yet been overexposed to U.S. culture outside of North Korea, who probably don't have the internet or satellite television and won't read this anyway.

Pasties on the Range

In 2003 my family made its first foray into the upper Great Lakes region of Northeast Minnesota and Michigan's Upper Peninsula (UP), beginning our long, continuing affair with the shorelines of the greatest lakes. Possibly the first sign welcoming us to the area hinted at "pasties ahead, 1 mile." Soon the byways were peppered with an assortment of sometimes shambolic roadhouses, neon "open" signs beckoning us to "Get your pasties here." My first thought was of tassels and cheap burlesque. But reality was in truth as tawdry as a senior's night checkers game at a nudist colony. We had stumbled upon a heritage dish, mining's contribution to the world's palate, the pasty (PASS-tee).

The pasty is perhaps the main raison d'être for an otherwise disrespected vegetable, the rutabaga. Other principal components of the standard pasty are beef, potato, onion and spices wrapped in a crimped pastry to form a semicircular pocket sandwich that is then baked to a golden brown. In the Upper Midwest, "spices" refers exclusively to salt and pepper. The pasty is right at home there. Its most scandalous aspect regionally is mild disagreement over the spelling of the singular item, some vendors preferring "pastie."

Variations on the standard pasty for the adventurous crowd might skip the beef altogether or include extra potato, and ketchup is an almost shameful side transaction not discussed between merchant and customer. Hoping no one will see, I've furtively grabbed a few courtesy packs of the condiment like a nervous youth in the prophylactic section of a drugstore. Gravy is a damnable abomination reserved for tourists.

Going Hungary in America

One of the benefits of living in a nation of immigrants is the rest of the world is at your doorstep if you can't travel there directly. And there is no better way to experience this smorgasbord of cultures than through your stomach. Each of the two styles of societal integration has its gastronomic merits. The melting pot gives us culinary fusion, while ethnic enclaves bring distinctive regional favors in geographic proximity.

My heritage is largely Hungarian, a small, fiercely independent nationality with an enigmatic language, whose people outlasted a millennium of attempted assimilation. Hungary nonetheless exported its national condiment throughout the world, and today paprika is found in virtually every North American home. Hungarian salami (szalámi) is also popular, most people have at least heard of goulash (gulyás) or chicken paprikás, and the Magyar claim no small portion of the credit for sausage (kolbász). But there is one meal reserved for celebratory family gatherings that makes me forget I have any other ancestry, and for a few hours I am purely Hungarian. It is the "dirty bread" of the Hungarian barbecue.

Süt szalonna (pronounced shoot SUH-luh-nuh), is literally "fry bacon." And bacon is the key ingredient, but it is a relative term. My grandfather used to negotiate for a chunk of nearly pure pork fat, held together with a few streaky wisps of meat and scored in a cross-hatch pattern on either side. Likely he got it for free after wearing down the butcher. My cousin is now the grill master, and he prefers blocks of sliced bacon skewered on a two-tined barbecue fork, much like you'd roast a hot dog on. I'm personally drawn to the fattier option only for its novelty. How satisfying is it to base a dish on melted animal fat in this antiseptic age of body consciousness? Which is the best approach is a topic for spirited debate around the fire pit, but there is no doubt, süt szalonna waits in Hades for the vegan sinner.

Walt Disney World and Islands of Adventure - Making Happy Memories is a Matter of Choice

It's on the must-see list for most travelers and anyone living with kids outside of North Korea. Disney has been called "The Happiest Place on Earth." At least it's marketed that way by the Walt Disney Corporation. We saw a lot of miserable people there on our last trip, however. My most visceral memory is of a father telling his young son "I spent a lot of money on this. You're damn well going to enjoy it!" We seemed to be the only happy people there then. And, a Disney career seems to pave a sure path to hell for wholesome young actors. What would our experience hold this time at the Walt Disney World resort? We had been to the Florida site before with young children, and later visited Hong Kong Disney with a mix of ages. Now we had teenagers in tow with a six-year-old.

The taxi arrived in our snowy driveway at 2 pm sharp for our pilgrimage. Five minutes from home Stacey realized we'd left our wad of American cash in the kitchen. Not wanting a friend who was checking the house to think this was a generous tip, we made a u-turn. We needed the bills for gratuities and tolls, and we had a tremendous commute buffer--learned from my recent debacle to Detroit--that could withstand a short detour. We were going against the flow of afternoon traffic, and we arrived at Pearson International in good time.

Magic Kingdom is worth at least one family pilgrimage if you can.

My Elite 35K status was sufficient to get the whole family into the Air Canada lounge after check-in, so the soup and cold buffet made a bargain meal for five while we waited out a couple hours in an enclosed family room. Our eldest helped himself to a few complimentary colas and was twitching from caffeine by boarding time. "We should fly like this all the time," he said. To be young with no financial sense.

Memories of Wine and Roses

Good food and drink evoke so many memories of friends, places traveled and moments in time. In 1997, one of my wife's good friends came to visit our home in Elko, Nevada from Ontario. My own best friend lived only a couple hours drive west, in Winnemucca. We all went on a spur-of-the-moment caravan road trip to San Francisco and the Napa Valley. We made good memories. My wife and I came back with a favorite wine; our friends came back a couple. They now have three beautiful daughters.

V. Sattui wines are only sold at the winery or shipped direct to the U.S. consumer. At her request, my brother-in-law bought my wife back a bottle of our favorite from his own recent trip to Napa--the 2012 Gamay Rouge--made from the Valdiguié (or Napa Gamay) grape. Stacey gave it to me as an early Valentine's gift to enjoy together. The first sip brought me back to a summer day in San Francisco, carefree times and a union of friends. "Salute."