A most curious thing happened recently. I realized that while people love to reminisce over the wonderful places from past vacations, the only thing I remember is the food. The glorious, glorious food. 

For example, I took a family trip to Italy 7 years ago. While I only retained some fleeting remembrances of The Sistine Chapel, I can vividly recall my first taste of a delicate panna cotta I had for dessert at a tourist cafeteria on the street in front of The Vatican City. It was served in a small glass cup, a decadent white cream desert stained with the deep red of the berry coulis. The pasta I ordered  for my main course had been disappointing (like most tourist trap food) but all disappointment dissolved in the moment when the first spoonful of the panna cotta hit my taste buds. 

The visual theatrics of well presented food is something I've always delighted in. In Venice there was a sweetshop with the most brilliant display window I've ever seen. In Turkey, once, I had stopped in the middle of a road to watch a man pound ingredients into the traditional handmade ice cream while a crowd of tourists gathered about him with their phone cameras. 

The more I started planning my own trips, the more food centric they started to become. I visited London some months back for a few days and needless to say most of my pre-vacation research was based on food. I spent half a day at the famous Borough Market trying out freshly made paellas, paninis, grilled venison burgers and homemade ice cream. Following the grisly allure of the legend of Sweeney Todd, my friend and I walked for an hour one day in search of The Old Bank of England which served pies on Fleet Street.  

As a little girl I grew up in India where my parents would pack the whole family into the car and travel as far as a weekend could take them and back. Stuffed in the trunk, along with our bags, would be a box of mango Frootis and Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolates to keep me happy. I guess some things never change.

Photo: Sheema Hossain