My husband is one of life's 'glass is half full' people - or should I say he makes his own luck. This never more evident that when we choose restaurants. Countless times we have stumbled off the beaten track to find some fantastic place, secluded but not ominously deserted, frequented by locals and well-heeled tourists in equal measure. Where the place has charm, great good, fair prices, locational interest. There have of course been a few exceptions, but I have to hand it to him; he always finds us the best place to dine.
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| gorgeous images via from me to you |
In Antigua we left the cosseted comfort of our all-inclusive hotel and ventured out in a jeep. Whilst a torrential Caribbean storm rolled in, we stopped for perfect grilled lobster in some hilltop shack and watched the white horses on the water grow. In Provence, we wandered away from Avignon town centre to find a cobbled courtyard, flanked by churches, the quintessential french eaterie. Stuffed to the gills with locals, even a elderly man, sitting on a nearby low wall, playing an accordion. Authentic, wonderful, memorable.
In Boston, a downstairs, out of sight pizzeria in the financial district where the best-ever goats cheese pizza made its debut. In Barcelona, chilled-out water-front tapas with the coldest of beer. In Venice the most perfect risotto and flawless service at Harry's Bar. In San Francisco, dungeness crab and soda bread in some off-the-tram-track organic food place. Michelin-starred wonder in Las Vegas, perched high above the strip.
It's these memories that make me smile now. We don't travel so much these days - but take a well-worn pilgrimage back to places we know. But still, even on familiar turf, he finds us some gem of a place so we never loose that wonderful 'date night' feeling of getting some quality time in a cool place.
