Dupe Photos
‘There is no better way to explore the world than through the universal language of food’
Meet our brand new contributing food writer, Alex O’Neill. One half of the fiercely popular Bahay and co-author of the very first Irish-Filipino cookbook, Masarap, Alex relishes all things food culture. Here, she’s penned an ode to experiencing the world like locals do, and the importance of food as an emotional connector.
As I write this, I am sitting cross legged on my bed, posture so appalling my back is already aching, yet I am unwilling to move for anything other than the round chocolate biscuits with little white biscuit stars on them, so that I, for a moment, can pretend I am in Rome again.
But I am not in Rome, I am staring out my window, hunched over, into the miserable grey scene in front of me, which looks more like a November day rather than one in the middle of August. What is it about post-summer holiday blues? They manage to get you every single time, even when you are ready, prepared and expecting their arrival?
The horrible heavy feeling of “take me back” and “how do we live like this” when comparing my life in dreary Dublin to one on the continent. The feeling of hot air surrounding your body as you step off the plane, the sights of fruit sellers lining up all the colours of the rainbow, with watermelons bigger than your head, peaches dripping in juice, and pineapples piled on top of each other.
Salty beaches with BBQs, queues for the morning bakery—something you get up happily for—the fresh still-warm pastries. It’s the perfect start to any day. Laid back locals live laugh loving life to the fullest, the warm breeze and sunny blue skies like lovely warm hugs, each day as idyllic as the last. The only worry being the calendar on your phone, the number creeping closer and closer to the one on your Ryanair itinerary, these thoughts are the first signs of what awaits at home… I am yet to escape these holiday blues. And I’m sorry if I just pushed you back into thinking about your own.
I have no cure to share, no top tip other than “go book another holiday, hun.” But I can tell you a few things that help. Bags, boxes, jars, bottles, tubs, tins and sleeves of whatever local delicacy you can pick up, stuffed into a crammed suitcase, to bring the taste of the holiday home with you. Bringing home an edible token, a treat, a taste, that allows you, just for a moment, to go back to the balcony you so long for, the beach you can’t wait to lie on, the piazza you wish to be teleported to, to sit, eyes closed, and feel like you’re right back there.
In case these first few paragraphs haven’t been clear enough; my favourite thing about travelling—no matter where I go to—is trying what the locals love to eat, drink and indulge in. I see no better activity than sniffing out the best local haunts, to try the most beloved local dishes, served the way the locals like. If you specialise in it, I want it. If your granny makes the best classic dish, I’m inviting myself to dinner. If you know a place, I am going and you’re coming with me.
Food is the window into a people, into a place, into the history, and it’s one of the best ways to truly get to know wherever you are lucky enough to visit.
Whether it be a fish restaurant that’s only accessible on a rental boat, one which travels at 8 knots an hour, I’m driving it. A hatch in some tiny lakeside town with no direct bus route? I’ve rented us bikes. A Portuguese restaurant that’s a 35 minute drive away, that is essentially an elderly man’s concreted front garden, with discoloured plastic chairs that, with one wrong move, will collapse from under you? I’ve sorted a lift and will warn you not to lean back.
I not only embrace, but welcome the idea of driving five hours in the worst traffic I’ve ever seen, to arrive to a dusty roadside restaurant that specialises only in chopped up pig’s head, grilled until it’s the perfect mixture of crunch, crisp, and chew in Pampanga, the food capital of the Philippines. Seeking out these local delicacies, the favourite spots of those who really know, is the best way to enjoy a place, experience it, and get to know it. The same goes for the people.
If I am lucky, I’ll have a friend who’s from the place where I’m visiting. I’ll reach out, and see if they have a “go-to” list. I have many of these lists; Rome, Lisbon, New York, Berlin, Delhi, Madrid, Copenhagen, San Sebastian, Hong Kong, Chicago, Manila. I have lists of places I haven’t yet been, but if I meet somebody from somewhere I haven’t been, I will ask them for their recommendations in the hopes that one day I can go back and reference it. If I don’t have the local insider scoop? Well, I find other ways.
Apartment rental hosts, AirBnB key drops, chatty taxi driver’s, friendly fellow passengers, record shop owners, tattoo artists, even people on the street who are eating something that looks amazing. I have no shame in the hunt for greatness, often to my travel partner’s embarrassment.
Trying local cuisine while on holiday is more than just a gastronomic endeavour, a gourmet odyssey, or one big indulgence after another; it’s a glimpse into the culture of a place, and the people who call it home.
Another less socially intimidating way is getting to talk to friendly waiters and bar staff who seem like they would be in the know. When I find a place that I like, settling only after extensive research, a deep dive on Google images, photos on reviews, social channels (although it’s often better if there’s none), and study on the vibe of a place from their digital footprint. If I find a place that I think is good, hopefully even great, after paying my bill, just as we’re about to leave, I’ll ask a staff member or two, “where do you like to go? What do you like to order?”
I’ll let whoever I get talking to know that I want to experience the best that the place has to offer, whether that be a grandmother’s taco window from her front room, a late night takeaway that does the best deep fried whatever, the best kebab hut, the best sandwich shop, late night donut stall, anything and everything — just tell me what it is, and where to get it. I want to know where you, your friends, and your family go to get the best of something that reminds you of the place you grew up.
I put a lot of trust into these strangers, and sometimes, I’ll admit, a lot of pressure, too. But 9.5 times out of 10, I am met with a bright smile, a knowing nod, a fistbump of “respect” followed by a list of the very best places to get what’s good, what’s great and what’s down right delish.
You may be asking yourself, why? Why go to this effort? It’s all good, right? Well, maybe. But to me, it’s worth it. Because food is the window into a people, into a place, into the history, and it’s one of the best ways to truly get to know wherever you are lucky enough to visit. Travel forces us to “escape the insulation of our comfort zone,” as Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times put it, giving us new perspectives and understanding of our world, and in my opinion, there is no better way to explore than through the universal language of food.
Trying local cuisine while on holiday is more than just a gastronomic endeavour, a gourmet odyssey, or one big indulgence after another; it’s a glimpse into the culture of a place, and the people who call it home. It’s about discovering the stories of a people, where flavours, ingredients and recipes give insight into a region’s history, tradition, and identity.
Churros in Seville, Mapo Tofu in Chengdu, Chaat in Delhi, Coddle in Dublin, Kibbeh in Lebanon, Goulash in Hungary, Jollof Rice in Nigeria, Koshari in Cairo, Mole poblano, Cacio e Pepe in Rome, Feijoada in Brazil. Every dish is a chapter in a demonym’s history, a reflection of the good times, and often, the bad.
In a world that feels very divided, cruel and unfair, the act of sharing a meal is a powerful, emotional connector, and a reflection of our shared human experience.
Regional delicacies often reveal the importance of family and tradition, or a glimpse at an almost forgotten scar from hard times, the skeletons of past rulers, empires or wars. Recipes are often guarded as if they are sanctified secrets, whispered from grandmother to granddaughter, father to son. Skills passed on from generation to generation, methods, recipes and ingredients that connect families and communities, and preserve cultural heritage.
Across continents, from the teeming street markets of Bangkok, the polluted pathless streets of Manila, to the tiny bistros of Paris, or the ancient Sichuan restaurants of Chengdu, local cuisine offers insight into what people cherish, celebrate, revere and hold dear.
For me, the traveller, tasting local cuisine is a way to connect with a place on a deeper level, an act of immersion when I can’t speak the language. It can transform my trip, creating memories, not just through sights, experiences and sounds, but through taste, anchoring those memories, locking in a deeper connection to the place or moment in time. When you return home, these culinary experiences become stories to tell, experiences to share, souvenirs whose lore lasts so much longer than a cheap trinket, postcard or fridge magnet.
It’s the locals who welcome us when we travel that I am the most grateful for. To them, food is an intimate source of identity and pride, and is something to respect, cherish and appreciate. In a world that feels very divided, cruel and unfair, the act of sharing a meal is a powerful, emotional connector, and a reflection of our shared human experience.
Food, cuisine and connecting through food is a celebration of diversity. Although we speak different languages, have different customs and often live in vastly different places, coming from different cultural, religious and socioeconomic backgrounds, we all share a love for food and family, we all crave belonging and community, and we’re all striving to feel connected to who we are, where we came from and those who came before us.
So, the next time you’re setting off on a trip—whether it be short, long, close or far away—go try something new. Relish the adventure of exploring new flavours, new dishes and cuisines you haven’t experienced before. Challenge yourself to discover dishes you’ve never heard of before, find a local guide, and fill your suitcase with nonperishable goods.
You can follow Alex O’Neill on Instagram here.
Imagery sourced from Unsplash and Dupe Photos
Also Read
