Richard Turen
"I'm a foodie." How often do we hear that these days? Perhaps, if my shop is typical, travel counselors hear it from every third caller. Somehow, despite my food-modest roots, I get a lot of calls for culinary tours and experiences. And the numbers keep growing every year. Nothing on the world news will deter those seeking a real truffle hunt with properly trained pigs or a chance to bake bread in one of Paris' secret neighborhood bakeries.
Fifteen years ago, I was sitting in a Barnes & Noble Bookstore Cafe sipping a decaf latte and skimming a Conde Nast Traveler I had just purchased. As I started flipping pages, trying to find my way past the Rolex ads, I came to this rather startling cartoon in blazing colors. Of me. I was somewhere in Italy with stately buildings in the background, and in my chef's outfit, I was lifting a ladle of tomato sauce for tasting from a large bowl that was a replica of the Earth. I had just been named the world's "Top Culinary Travel Specialist."
Like most awards, this was kind of an inside joke. I was raised in Brooklyn before it was a restaurant mecca or even the kind of place you would admit as your birthplace. My mother was, without serious challenge, the worst cook in our high-rise building -- some said, the worst cook on the entire, crowded block. The only culinary pretension she ever had was trying to decide which brand of tomato sauce to pour over whatever it was she had overboiled. My father liked to eat sardines out of a tin and herring out of jars.
The only times I remember dining out involved putting coins in the window to get food out of the automat and an occasional foray into Chinese culture at the local chow mein joint. I knew which luncheonette made the best egg cream, and I knew that Ebinger's Bakery had the best breads. But I didn't know why.
Life, and anything having to do with an appreciation of food, sort of passed me by until I found myself teaching and taking annual forays to Europe. I would walk each day around Paris, London or Rome sampling as many things as my ignorant palate could taste while carrying around my "$5 a Day" book and trying to stick to a $20-a-day budget.
I started an American school in Tuscany and lived there long enough to realize that Italians eat nothing out of a box and that excellence in the simple things is a part of their lives. I traveled throughout Europe in those years with my 70 teens and staff, tasting here, buying there, watching young palates begin to develop. It was electrifying. Watching my students bite into a just-cooked street waffle in Brussels for the first time or sharing paella with them at a seaside shack along Spain's Costa Brava are memories that have never left me.
I worked for Princess Cruises during the "Love Boat" years, and the best meal I ever had onboard was below decks in the Indian mess, which was at the time adjacent to the ship's single jail cell. I still remember the sights and smells as freshly baked naan and platters of tandoori chicken and vegetables were placed before me.
Now, of course, an Indian restaurant could do well above the engine room. Cruise food has really improved, and I think it mirrors the growth of culinary tourism. When Jacques Pepin personally seated me at a table in his restaurant onboard the Oceania Riviera, I realized how far "the movement" had come.
I started writing about travel in 1988 with a column in the local paper. I would write about some consumer travel issue one week and then do a Q&A the second week, in which readers could ask questions on any subject remotely related to travel. I started to notice something odd. About half the questions had to do with food and restaurants abroad. People were hungry for information about what to eat and how to find it during their travels. Where to sleep and what to see seemed less of a problem.
So I started dealing with food and restaurant recommendations, and my nights were filled with research. I needed to learn as much as I could about culinary travel.
Soon, my new hobby had grown out of control. I was writing reviews, had published a book and was writing syndicated columns that took the reader inside the restaurant world -- or at least, that world as I knew it.
Soon after launching our company, we decided to brand one trip each year as our "Signature Trip," the one my family and I would personally escort. This is something we are still doing, and we've traveled the world doing trips with a culinary orientation whenever possible.
I recommend this highly. Seeing the world through the eyes of my clients has produced revelations I would never have realized on my own. When you map out an itinerary for 40 paying clients whom you will accompany on their journey, you quickly learn their likes and dislikes. And, if you want to really achieve the best results, pay particular attention to what your clients do at least three times a day. Break bread with them in the best of circumstances.
I once read that the French begin salivating, in an actual secretion sort of way, about 20 minutes before lunch and dinner -- a kind of anticipation we have long lacked in this country. But that is quickly changing; now thousands of tour operators and travel consultants are tuned in to culinary touring in new, exciting ways.
Culinary tourism starts with some challenging assumptions. The first is that sightseeing involving static buildings, churches and cultural artifacts is less interesting than an understanding of current local culture. For many travelers, the past is not to be ignored; it must be studied and seen. But on vacation, they are much more concerned with the here and now, not to mention the future. One can make a very strong case that to truly know a people and their beliefs, to truly understand their values and their culture, you have to experience what they eat and how they eat it.
What I love most about culinary touring is that it gives me a specific goal for each client. I want each to experience the local culture so he or she can come home and try to replicate some part of it. I love hearing of their visits to ethnic grocery stores soon after they return.
The top foodie country of the moment is Denmark, where Copenhagen is home to Noma, the world's top-rated restaurant, according to Restaurant magazine. Spain and Japan are other top foodie destinations, with Tokyo managing more three-star Michelins than any other country. San Sebastian and Girona in Spain are home to numerous world-renowned restaurants including Mugaritz and El Celler de Can Roca.
I had the best meal of my life in Singapore and then, a few hours later, I walked through the night stalls tasting here and there.
Once, I was cruising aboard the Crystal Serenity heading to Korea. At dinner, our waiter wouldn't take our order, and suddenly, out of the kitchen, several dining staff wheeled two tables filled with huge serving bowls. The night before, a busboy had overheard the "foodie" conversation at our table, where I mentioned my love for Hungarian cuisine. The chef was from Budapest, and he prepared a special meal of incredible Hungarian dishes.
The culinary highway never ends. The stops along the way are almost always rewarding, and they are the reason that culinary tourism will only grow.