Foreign Food

"Eat where the locals eat," travelers are advised when seeking restaurant suggestions in foreign cities. But in my experience the locals generally tend to eat at home, and so, unless you invade their dining rooms without invitation, accidentally dropping your passport in the zuppe bowl and knocking over Papa's grappa with your camera bag, it's highly unlikely that you will experience any such native gastronomic pleasures.
"Never order from the Tourist Menu," you are also lectured. "Avoid eateries that line the main drags and famous squares. And don't sit down at an establishment with mug-shots of pizza and spaghetti Bolognese taped to its facade."

But of course, being on vacation, the main drags and famous squares are exactly where you want to be. You can call me the Philistine of Food, but I would much prefer to chew on leathery, shriveled scallops beside the Grand Canal than salivate over exquisitely-cooked squid in some "quaint" poky backstreet ristorante. Let's face it, you can waste half your holiday lost in unlit alleyways searching for that "authentic" taverna that the guidebook recommended.

One saltimbocca in Rome is as good as another to me, ditto goulash in Budapest, herring in Amsterdam, London's steak 'n' kidney pies, and whatever that oily Athenian fish is called. I am more than happy to pay six-Euros just to sit down at Caffe Florian to enjoy an equally extortionately-priced cheese panini in Saint Mark's Square. Otherwise I just bring a packed lunch: some salad, boiled egg, bit of chocolate, and arrange a picnic in the park. That’s the best kind of local eating.