A salsa, a synchronised quesadilla and a weekend
Subscribe to enjoy similar stories. Travel has provided me with some of the most memorable meals I have eaten, none more than the simple lunch I had in 2008 on a sunny, cool day under the bluest sky, near the edge of a cliff overlooking the inland sea misleadingly called Lake Titicaca in Peru. An indigenous community called the Uru served freshly grilled trout—without spices and with boiled rice, grated carrot, and a condiment based on a local chilli called the aji.
Before us were clear, blue waters, the horizon framed by the snow-clad Andes. The wife and I were on a one-way, round-the-world ticket. We carried two backpacks and spent three months on four continents before we returned home.
We never made a journey like that again, although we hope to. I was reminded of that journey when our 20-something twin nieces visited this month. They’re American, of Italian and Indian origin, and they were on a similar round-the-world backpacking trip.
They are currently somewhere in the Nilgiris, but they came here with stories of food, friends and family, after traipsing through, among other places, Mexico, Ecuador and Italy. We’ve been following their travels on Instagram. The thing that interested me most—apart from the lands and people they encountered, was the food, especially in Mexico.
Their feed is full of tacos, flautas (rolled tacos), sauces, condiments, meats and vegetables in a country that, like ours, revels in food with a kick. That got me thinking last weekend about how much I missed cuisine from that end of the world. The wife was travelling, and that meant I had complete control of my kitchen.
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