Food Porn
I just finished reading Anthony Bourdain’s new book, Medium Raw, where he spends a full chapter writing about international food porn – his favorite and most memorable meals while traveling. While the book itself falls short of his bestseller, Kitchen Confidential, it got me thinking about some of the more memorable meals I had while traveling. Much like Bourdain, I do have to apologize – there is something potentially wrong with writing about amazing meals in destinations that are magical, yet, also much like Bourdain, I’m going to forget all that and make you hungry.
So what constitutes an incredible meal? I’d argue that while a high end meal with good ingredients prepared by a solid chef can be tasty, it’s not necessarily the most memorable. In addition to the flavors themselves, the presentation, situation, location, views, and most importantly, good company, make the most memorable meals. Here are some of my most unforgettable ones.
Imagine…
…arriving for dinner at 10pm to find the place still empty because people don’t arrive until later. It’s a Friday night in Beirut, and much like the rest of the city, Abdel Wahab is somewhat awkwardly filled with Maronites, Easter Orthodox Christians, Sunnis, and Shi’a all putting their challenges behind them to enjoy a fantastic meal. You order 8-9 different mezze for your table of four, and reluctantly get one main dish to share. Soon, the waiter brings your bottle of Ksara (Lebanese wine) and the feast begins with flat bread, still inflated and fresh from the oven. You burn your fingers picking at it, with the hot air escaping from the inside burning you, but you need it to pick up the humus with meat. To be clear, this doesn’t even resemble the crap you get in a jar at your local supermarket. These are fresh chickpeas, with tahini, recently ground, with fresh olive oil drizzled on top. You also opt for the meat option, with lamb shawarma pieces sprinkled on the top. Soon comes the fried kibbeh, the labneh, and the crisp tabouleh. I never liked tabouleh before moving to Saudi, but once I tried it in the Middle East, it changed my life forever. Not only is it made from super fresh parsley and mint, but there’s love put into the olive oil, tomatoes, and lemon juice that’s drizzled on top. Made properly, it’s the freshest, greenest, healthiest thing you can eat in the Middle East. Next comes the Mahamra, roasted red peppers with pine nuts, which adds a healthy kick to your meal. You break bread with your friends, nibbling on each mezze as it comes, but you also get a little adventurous and order the baby birds. These eggs sized babies come fried whole – with bones and head attached. You take a bite – at first a little strange, but then the flavor bursts in your mouth while you gently crunch through the bones like pretzel sticks. By the time the main course comes, there’s no room left on the table for additional plates, and no room in your stomach.. but you can’t help yourself. The mixed grill is lifechanging. Chicken and lamb on skewers, covered in Arabic seasoning, grilled with the standard fresh vegetables – onion and tomato. Finally, after you finish, the waiter brings a plate of assorted baklava and other Arabic treats, along with fresh fruit. To end the dinner (and begin the night), you order a bottle of Arak. The aniseed-flavored drink comes clear in the bottle, but the waiter mixes it in a beaker with ice water, making it cloudy, but also chilled. The sweet flavor goes down easy, but its strength should not be underestimated…
…a tropical storm is brewing in Kuala Lumpur, and duck into the first canopy that you see in Chinatown. You sit on an unstable plastic stool, while the rain pours all around you, and you order the main thing on the menu – clay pot chicken. You watch a river of rain form next to the table as you anxiously wait for your meal to cook. You smell the curries and spices, and see the chef, trying not to get wet, stirring in clay bots over an open gas flame 10 yards from you. You’re on the sidewalk with people running through the rain around you, and the canopy above you almost collapses from the weight of the water, but you know that this meal will be worth it. The chicken comes in the clay pot that it was cooked in, and although its cartilage/bone to meat ration is a bit higher than you’d like, the spices and flavors of the thick stir fry strike you. Between the sleep deprivation of flying to Malaysia for a weekend, satisfaction of getting out of the rain, and joy of being with great friends, you walk away thrilled. The colors inside the pot, of the vegetables, the chicken, and the sauce, blend with the spices and awake you.
…you roll onto the Palm Jumeirah in Dubai, and pull up to the bright lights of Atlantis. You walk down the tacky yet beautiful hallways, past the aquarium, until you arrive at Nobu. You notice there’s something off about eating seafood while surrounded by a beautiful aquarium filled with tropical fish, but you’re excited anyway. The dining room is filled with beautiful women and older men – unfortunately like most of Dubai, the escort scene is rampant here. Yet, you’re celebrating with your friends, you’ve got a room at the Burj Al Arab, and you’re about to have a crazy night out in Dubai. While the sushi is fantastic, one thing stands out – the magical rock shrimp tempura. A mix of buttery, picante, and sweet, and perfectly cooked to be tender while not too soft. You order seconds and thirds with your buddies, while enjoying the views of fish and Russian girls. You’re on a man-made palm that’s sinking into the ocean, surrounded by excess of the worst kind. But it’s only for one night; you can tell yourself that it’s alright.
…your driver pulls up to the neon sign, and you already see the crowd of men inside. You step out of your car to 120 degree heat, and immediately into the cool air conditioning of Mama Noura. You stand in line with your Canadian buddies, surrounded by Saudi men, and place your order – 2 shawarmas and a mixed juice each, and some humus and tabouleh to share. One buddy goes to the juice stand, another goes to the humus stand, and you go to the shawarma cutter, and give him your ticket. He tells you your order number in Arabic, and you quickly try to remember Arabic numbers, otherwise, you’ll never get your shawarma. You salivate with the other Saudi men next to you while watching the shawarma being cut. There are coals behind a grate, a 2 foot wide shawarma with chickens stacked on top of each other with lamb grease dripping from the top. The cook spins the shawarma with the piece of bread he has in his hand, makes a few slices, scoops them up from the bottom with a spoon (making sure to include some of the juices), stuffs it into the bread, and wraps it. This process lasts less than 10 seconds, and repeats itself thousands of times a night. Eventually, he calls your number, and you take a seat with your buddies and dig in. It’s the unforgettable juicy taste of fresh chicken, garlic sauce, and pickled vegetables in fresh bread. Much like In-and-Out Burger or Shake Shack, Mama Noura has taken the simplest local meal and turned it into something incredible. (Sorry girls, only boys are allowed in Mama Noura in Riyadh)!
…you’ve spent the day driving around Punta del Este, and it’s unfortunately empty because you missed the busy season by a week. You’re a little frustrated, hungry, and to top it off, it’s raining – you just want food and to get to Montevideo. Everything is closed or empty, but you vaguely remember a crowded restaurant by the rollercoaster bridge, just north of Punta del Este. After searching, you find it, walk inside, and are greeted by a middle aged, fat, loud Italian-Uruguayan. You sit down, and he brings you a bottle of local wine, and as you order, you notice that although everyone in the restaurant is speaking Spanish, you sense the familiar hint of an Italian accent. You realize you’re in Uruguayian New Jersey, but this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Your meal comes, a simple dish of gnocchi. Ever since your friend referred to them as “tiny nuggets of flavor,” you’ve had a special appreciation for gnocchi, but these are different. These are magical. So fresh, just melting in your mouth, making you want to cry, different. After you’ve slowly eating one by one, you find room for desert, and opt for the South American special – dulce de leche cake. Words cannot describe the experience. You drive back to Montevideo, nothing can take away the happy feeling in your stomach.
