Travel & food, first person
I travel for work and stay for the food. This is where I keep the places, plates, and people worth remembering — one honest post at a time.
Six seats, one grumpy man, grilled mackerel that ruined every hotel buffet for me forever.
I ordered the thing the man at the next table was eating. Twelve times. No regrets, one small stain.
Forty minutes in a queue, and the uncle still told me I'd ordered wrong. He was right.
We walked eleven kilometres uphill purely to justify a second round of raclette. Worth it.
A basement dining room in London, a bread boat full of cheese, and a toast I didn't understand.
Eight dishes, four hours, one smoke alarm. My walnut sauce has notes to improve on.
Place tags only — posts cooked at home live over on Foodie.
Some of these plates I ate on their home ground. Others I chased down in a basement two streets from my flat, or built badly in my own kitchen. All of them count.
7 posts across 6 cuisines
I'm Aneta. My job sends me places; my appetite decides what I do when I get there. I've eaten standing up in more countries than I've properly slept in, and I take notes on napkins.
I write about the four-dollar breakfast, the queue that was worth it, and the dish I fell for in a city I've never visited. No rankings, no sponsored tasting menus — just honest reports from wherever I happen to be, including my own kitchen.
Got a place I should eat at, or a recipe I'm getting wrong? Tell me.