My train from Ipoh pulls into Butterworth station right on time, and I cover the short distance to the ferry terminal on foot. Soon I board a barge for the 20-minute crossing to the island. The skyline of Georgetown, Penang’s main city, emerges before me, a mix of modern skyscrapers, colonial constructions, and old Chinese shophouses.

When my ferry arrives, I walk down the narrow streets, admiring the hodgepodge of architectural styles. The long-standing mix of cultures is evident as the colorful fabric shops and spicy aromas of Little India melt into the temple incense and spicy street food of Chinatown.

My destination this evening is a new-ish hotel in the heart of Georgetown called Coffee Atelier. It is set in a row of five heritage houses, all painstakingly restored to create an authentic boutique hotel. The restaurant, 55 Cafe, is where I have been invited for dinner.

When I arrive, I am greeted by Stefan, the Swiss expat owner, and his wife, Lorina, who is from Hong Kong. They show me the beautifully restored guest rooms and the hotel’s art gallery, then we sit down to dinner with their children.

A wide variety of Mediterranean plates and tapas comes to the table. They have worked with the chef on each dish to ensure the food stays true to its traditional flavors.

And they do a good job. Just ask the vacationing couple at the next table; this is their fourth visit in as many days.

The next afternoon I have the fortune of meeting some other expats in Penang, two of whom take me on a walking tour of Georgetown. Lorina is kind enough to introduce me to Rebecca and Caroline, the former of whom is an artist that has worked with the Penang Heritage Trust.

Our tour begins with the most important thing in Penang: street food. From a vendor by the Goddess of Mercy Temple we sample peanut sweets so good that they satisfy even my savory-loving palate. From there we visit Rebecca’s house, China Tiger, an indescribably beautiful gesamtkunstwerk adjacent to her shop on China Street. The house is so stunning that she now opens it once a month for visitors to see.

Nearby is the new Ren i Tang Hotel, which is just about to open. Rebecca knows the owners, and takes me inside for a sneak peek at the 17 unique rooms and traditional Chinese medicine shop.

She also takes me to see the new Seven Terraces Hotel, which has a gorgeous restaurant that serves traditional local Nyonya cuisine like that which I had in Malacca, but with a modern twist.

And speaking of modern, our next stop is China House, a long, narrow passageway of a space filled with several trendy restaurants, bars, cafes, and art galleries. It is the place to be in Georgetown, and is one of the most popular cafes and restaurants in Penang.

Down Beach Street is another new cafe, this one called Cozy in the Rocket. It is a small, light space that looks like the perfect place to have lunch or coffee.

As we walk, Rebecca explains that because Penang is so famous for its street food, most restaurants specialize in non-local cuisines. It makes sense, as nobody wants to pay up for local food in a restaurant when they can get the same dishes on the street for a fraction of the price.

Which brings us to Edelweiss, the original heritage shophouse-turned-restaurant. There we meet the owner, Teresa, a pioneer and visionary that first restored one of Penang’s historic buildings and turned it into a business. As I sip a dragon fruit and beetroot juice, she shows me a book of before-and-after photos of the restaurant, the result of which is a gorgeous space that started a citywide trend.

Away from the cafes, I walk down Armenian Street with Caroline to get my culture fix. She takes me to the Sun Yat Sen Museum, where the former Chinese leader once spent time. Parting ways with her, I walk past the famous Kapitan Keling Mosque and Sri Mahamariamman Temple, a riot of color and sculpture adorning its pyramidal tower.

At the north end of the street, I explore the Queen Victoria Memorial Clock Tower and Fort Cornwallis, a sturdy relic of the British colonial days. I then make my way to the famous Eastern & Oriental Hotel.

The historic hotel’s 1885 restaurant has offered me dinner, and I revel in the five-course tasting menu, which features everything from lobster bisque and pan seared scallops to baked Wagyu filet mignon.

The highlights are the pan seared scallops and the beef, both of which are tender and flavorful.

At the end of the meal, Executive Chef Petr Feher sits down to talk with me. Like mine, his career has taken him all over the world, from the Four Seasons hotels in San Diego and Prague to the Datai on Langkawi.

My last meal in Georgetown takes place at ET Restaurant, which comes recommended by a fellow London food blogger. The no-frills dining room is packed with families enjoying Steam Boat meals like the one I had in the Cameron Highlands, but my friend told me that in-the-know locals and visitors order Nyonya cuisine there.

I do as she tells me, and the somewhat surprised staff prepares a plate of Nyonya food for me. The mix of pork, tofu, and rice is cheap and good, and I’m glad to have had my fill in a city famous for it.

My Georgetown fix done, I spend the rest of my time in Penang in Batu Ferringhi, a resort area located 30 minutes down the coast. My hotel is the Shangri-La Rasa Sayang Resort, a fitting place to stay in a location that reminds me of the legendary island.

My room, which the five-star hotel has generously offered me on a complimentary basis, is in the luxurious Rasa Wing. The wing is a subset of the hotel that Suleiman, the Director of Communications, tells me is the equivalent of first class, with business class being the domain of the adjacent Garden Wing.

The Rasa Wing has its own restaurant, which guests can use exclusively for breakfast (although the breakfast buffet at the Spice Market restaurant in the Garden Wing blows me away with its size and variety), as well as a private adults-only pool and a lounge with complimentary afternoon tea and happy hour each day.

My room is huge, with areas for sleeping, living, working, and bathing, and a spacious balcony with a big bathtub. The decor is all browns and beiges, which feels a bit business-like for a resort hotel (although I am traveling on business, after all!), but it has every amenity I can imagine, from free WiFi to a cosmetics kit and hair care products.

The balcony overlooks the extensive gardens and saltwater swimming pool, beyond which is the beach. Next to the pool is the CHI spa, where Suleiman sets me up with a Rasa Asmaradana massage. Sandalwood, cinnamon, and nutmeg all play a role in the therapy in a nod to Penang’s identity as a spice island.

My therapist takes me into my own private villa, complete with a separate changing room, outdoor tub, and dedicated treatment room. As she kneads the knots in my back, I drift off to Shangri-La, both real and imagined.

It’s ironic, though, as the massage is the last thing I do before leaving the Shangri-La, and Penang, too. Back on the ferry I go, and back on the train. And back to Kuala Lumpur. To be continued…

Everyone seemed surprised that I want to take a train from Kuala Lumpur to Ipoh. One person I met admitted that she had never heard of a visitor taking a train before, and others said that it had been so long since they last traveled by train that they didn’t remember how the system worked.

When I board the carriage, I can see why. While the rest of the train is clean, someone has made an impressive mess at the foot of my seat. And as the train departs, I am approached by a cockroach that doesn’t seem as disinterested in me as I am in it. On top of that, we are delayed almost two hours.

But I would still gladly take the train in Malaysia again. Why? For one, the rainbow. And the double rainbow that follows. Then the miles of amazing scenery, from lush greenery to pretty lakes and villages. And just before the train pulls into Ipoh, the magenta sunset. You can’t beat a magenta sunset.

When I arrive at the train station, a gorgeous historic building, I take a taxi to my hotel in Ipoh, Indulgence Restaurant and Living. I have been invited to stay and dine at its famous restaurant, and after eating my way through Kuala Lumpur and Malacca, I am excited to continue my foodie tour of Malaysia in Ipoh.

I’m not disappointed. While Indulgence focuses on international cuisine as opposed to local specialties, it offers as much quality as anything else I have eaten in Malaysia, if not more.

My Tropicana Salad is packed with impossibly juicy mango and local pomelo from Ipoh. The greens are fresh, and the glass of Tuscan white has clearly been chosen by someone that knows her wines.

In fact, that someone is sitting right across from me. Jessie is one half of the duo that runs Indulgence in Ipoh, the other half being celebrated chef Julie Song. As we dine, she tells me all about the restaurant and hotel, from the start nearly 20 years ago to the current incarnation in a beautiful historic mansion near the city center.

Jessie describes Julie’s famous cuisine and insistence on sourcing ingredients from everywhere from Australia—where most of the meat comes from—, to Hong Kong and Japan. Her fierce dedication to quality means that she uses produce from all over the world in order to achieve a high level of cuisine.

And achieve it she does. My next course, a pasta dish with scallops from Hokkaido, is so fresh and flavorful that it has me in rapture. I arrived at Indulgence with high expectations, but what I taste is on another level altogether. It’s official: Ipoh is worth a visit just for the restaurant’s food.

And speaking of a visit, my room for my stay is conveniently right upstairs. In addition to cooking, Julie Song has a talent for decorating. She has furnished each of the seven rooms at Indulgence with a different theme, from classic British colonial to Chinoiserie and Rococo.

My room, called Tzarrah, is huge, with a bathroom so big that at first glance I mistake one archway for a mirror. Bright orange and yellow curtains and white sheets offset the dark hues of the wood, and I settle in for a lovely stay.

In the morning, Jessie is kind enough to take me into the city center for—you guessed it—more food. Our first stop is at Burps & Giggles, a new restaurant in Ipoh that she and Julie opened late last year.

The space, which occupies three consecutive rooms and is managed by Julie’s son, looks like it came straight out of London’s Shoreditch neighborhood.

Huge murals and funky lamps cover the walls, and some of the tables have been constructed from an old staircase in the building.

I am so consumed by the decor that I almost forget about the food. That would be a crime, though, as my chicken burger is absolutely divine. By the time I finish, I am ready to move to Ipoh just for the food.

And I don’t change my mind after Jessie takes me down the street for a second breakfast at an unassuming little restaurant in Ipoh called Thean Chun.

We have some local specialties, including perfectly crunchy bean sprouts that have an incredible flavor due to the local limestone. I also try chicken satay and Kai See Hor Fun, or chicken with rice noodles, which is one of the city’s most famous dishes.

By the time I finish eating, I don’t think I will need another meal for a long time. And that is a good thing, because I am leaving for the Cameron Highlands, a two-hour drive away.

Still, I leave Ipoh feeling like I didn’t do the city justice. The famous clock tower, the pretty Chinese shophouses, and the nearby cave temples went largely ignored in favor of the restaurants. But I have no regrets, and the brevity of my stay gives me a great excuse to go back. Hopefully sooner than later. Hopefully hungry. And hopefully by train.

That fact is most evident in Malacca’s food. As with Kuala Lumpur, I am in Malacca to eat everything from street food to traditional cuisine, and the city’s history as a strategic point along the strait is revealed in its wide variety of dishes.

One of the most famous types of food in Malacca is Nyonya cooking, which developed when the Chinese and Malays intermarried and their culinary traditions fused.

Fittingly, the first place I go in Malacca a Nyonya restaurant near the famous Jonker Street. The building, like many others in the city, is long and narrow, with a small facade that belies the vast interior.

My group sits at a big round table with a Lazy Susan. Round and round it goes, offering everything from spring rolls to grilled beef salad and fried squid. Some dishes are better than others, but I can’t get enough of the Assam chicken with pineapple and the stir-fried water spinach.

After lunch we explore more of the street, from antique shops with rusting rickshaws to art galleries with lush hidden courtyards. Malacca is mysterious, with most of its charms hidden inside the skinny interiors of its buildings.

In the evening I return to the heart of the city to find it turned inside out. The shops are shut, but the streets are overflowing with vendors selling everything from wooden sandals to fried squid.

My group passes brightly colored trishaws, called “discos on the go” by locals, and makes its way through the market on Jonker Street.

Along the way, we buy small pancakes filled with corn and hard peanut candy chiseled from a pan before coming to an area filled with food stalls and plastic tables. We sit and eat our fill of fried oysters and cendol.

The latter is a miracle of food. It looks like a white ball of shaved ice, but contains everything from chocolate sauce to green noodles and—get this—kidney beans. It is the kitchen sink of desserts, and, amazingly, it works. It works very well.

What doesn’t work as well is my stomach’s capacity to absorb all of the food I’ve been eating. Before my street food foray this evening, I have already eaten two breakfasts in Kuala Lumpur, lunch in Malacca, and afternoon tea and dinner at my hotel, a beautiful heritage property called The Majestic.

But that’s something I’m learning about Malaysia. There’s no such thing as too much food. And I don’t disagree. Everything tastes so good that I can’t stop eating, even if my stomach feels like it is about to burst.

The afternoon tea is a hybrid of traditional British sandwiches and scones along with Malaysian pastries like onde-onde—glutinous rice flour balls filled with liquid palm sugar—, kuih koci—steamed glutinous rice flour stuffed with brown sugar and grated coconut—, and sago—palm starch—with grated coconut and palm sugar.

The dinner at The Majestic hotel features excellent dishes like Kuih Pie Tee—little crunchy shells filled with vegetables and shrimp—and Assam Pedas—a sour-spicy fish dish in a tamarind and chili sauce. I can’t get enough.

But neither can I eat non-stop, and during my down time I go into the city center to explore. Sometimes by van, and sometimes by boat.

One evening I find myself on a night river cruise in Malacca, passing by amusement parks, cool riverfront cafes and bars, and colorful buildings.

Another afternoon I explore Chinese temples, historic wells, Dutch windmills, British churches, and remnants of old Portuguese forts on a tour with MASholidays. All of them bear witness to the nearby strait’s strategic importance as a main artery of trade in the region.

And I can’t leave such an important place on an empty stomach. Naturally, this means that I need at least two meals before noon.

The first comes in the form of amazing classic nasi lemak—pandan-coconut rice with anchovy sambal—, siew pau pork buns, coconut curry laksa with noodles, and traditional soft-boiled eggs with kaya coconut jam. I eat these at a little hole-in-the-wall eatery called Mei Sin Cafe near The Majestic.

The second comes in the form of heaping bowls of chicken curry laksa, rojak fruit salad with sweet and sour sauce, and cendol with all the trimmings. I eat these at Jonker 88 on Jonker Street.

Thus sated, I am at liberty to leave Malacca and its strait, and continue my Malaysia travels with a trip north to explore the food in Ipoh, the Cameron Highlands, and Penang. To be continued…

Malaysians won’t hesitate to tell you that they are preoccupied with food. “At breakfast, we talk about what we are going to eat for lunch,” one says. “And at lunch, we discuss what we’re going to have for dinner.” And at dinner? “We talk about what we’re going to eat during the weekend,” they laugh. And I thought I was obsessed with food.

The good thing about a country excited about all things culinary is that there is not only a lot of good food in Malaysia, but also a lot of great variety. Owing to its multiethnic culture—mainly Malay, Indian, and Chinese—,and colonial history—the Portuguese, Dutch, British, and Japanese all spent stints occupying various parts of the country—, Malaysia has an amazing array of traditional dishes.

I learn this firsthand in Kuala Lumpur, where I am in town for 48 hours for the express purpose of consuming food. My guide, Danny, wrote a book called Train 2 E@t. It is about the best street food in Kuala Lumpur near each train station, but it may as well be a guide to how to expand one’s stomach so that six full sit-down meals become a normal daily routine.

Danny meets my group at Sentral station, the main rail hub in the city. From there we take the metro one stop, where we walk through Chinatown to get to Madras Lane. The small covered market buzzes with street food stalls, and we settle in at a red plastic table behind one of them.

Soon Danny returns to the table followed by trays of Assam laksa with tamarind, coconut curry laksa, and chee cheong fun rice noodles. We devour them, hungry for the intensity of flavors.

From there, we walk through the Petaling Street market in Chinatown, picking up sweet mata kucing to drink from a vendor sandwiched between stalls selling faux luxury goods. It is made from longan, a relative of the lychee, and it is just as sweet.

Leaving Chinatown, we continue our street food tour of Kuala Lumpur with a stop at a restaurant called Anuja. Heading up the stairs, we eat heaping portions of rice, curry, egg, chicken, poppadoms, fried fish, and other Muslim Indian food. Our plates are banana leaves, our utensils our hands. It is cheap, cheerful, and delicious.

Back on the train, we alight at Masjid Jamek to tour the Masjid India bazaar. Weaving through stalls of colorful fabric and fake watches, we pick up goreng pisang banana fritters and keropok lekor fish fingers from a street food vendor. The former are crispy and delicious, the latter a bit fishy, but good with chili sauce.

Just when we think we can’t eat any more, we leave Kuala Lumpur’s street food stalls to experience its fine dining scene. First on the list is Bijan restaurant, a famous Malay establishment that has been voted the best of its kind many times over.

The beautiful dining room is low-lit, the cuisine fresh, and the ingredients high quality. Standout dishes include ayam masak kuzi, a dish with chicken, tomatoes, almonds, and raisins in coconut sauce.

Afterwards we walk back to the hotel through bustling hawker stalls selling all kinds of street food and busy bars along Jalan Nagasari.

Other restaurants we experience include the JP teres restaurant at the new Grand Hyatt Kuala Lumpur hotel, our home for two nights in the city. The restaurant serves a feast of pan-Malaysian dishes that include spicy coconut-based curry laksa, traditional nasi goreng fried rice, and murgh makhani, a tandoori chicken dish with creamy tomato sauce. There is excellent cake for dessert, too.

Elsewhere, we tour the Malaysia Airlines chef-on-call facility at Kuala Lumpur International Airport. We are in the country as guests of the airline, and it’s only fair that we give their award-winning in-flight food its due.

Malaysia Airlines flew us all the way from London to Kuala Lumpur on one of their shiny new A380s, which had power outlets, USB ports, private TV screens, and surprisingly far-reclining seats even in economy class. And that’s to say nothing of the Golden Lounge at Heathrow Terminal 4, which has great views of the planes out the windows, lots of Champagne, and award-winning cuisine.

Speaking of food, the Malaysian meal on my flight was outstanding and incredibly flavorful for plane food (the omelette I ate for breakfast less so, but it serves me right for not eating local).

But back to the chef-on-call facility, which itself is enormous. It is “roughly the size of three soccer fields”, as our guide puts it, and its staff prepares over 40,000 meals there every week. We walk through rooms where fresh satay is grilled, kitchens where prep cooks slice fruit with laser-sharp knives, and bakeries with doughy aromas that make our mouths water.

At the end, we sample the goods. The first and business class cuisine is spread on a table, and everything from lobster to lamb appears for our tasting convenience.

Given the size of the facility and the fact that all of the food has to be prepared in advance of the airline’s flights, it is impressive.

But food isn’t the only focus of our 48 hours in Kuala Lumpur. There is more to see than just markets and restaurants. One way to do it is to take a hop-on hop-off bus tour of the city. Specifically, a night tour with Malaysia Airlines’ MASholidays.

Ours starts at the Malaysian Tourism Center, which is right around the corner from the hotel. Over the course of six hours, we visit the Kuala Lumpur City Gallery, ride past landmarks like Petaling Street and the Federal Territory Mosque, and drive out to the famous Batu Caves, where a giant golden Hindu god welcomes us to climb the steep steps to the entrance.

Our animated guide, Joe, tells us all about the city and adds a nice dose of humor to what is a long evening of sightseeing in Kuala Lumpur.

But we can’t escape food entirely. The tour includes a dinner at Satay Station, a restaurant specializing in—you guessed it—satay. Skewers of chicken and beef are piled high on platters, accompanied by bowls of peanut sauce. The meat is incredibly fresh, having come straight off the grill. The big bowls of mee rebus—egg noodles with potato sauce, shrimp, peanut, and chili—are equally good, and I have to tear myself away to stop eating.

When we’re not sightseeing or eating in Kuala Lumpur, we are snatching whatever minutes of rest we can get in the hotel. It’s not hard to do, given that our rooms are enormous, modern, full of amenities—loofahs in the shower and the bath—and offer stunning views over the city and its famous twin Petronas Towers.

But we’re not in Malaysia to sit in hotel rooms all day, and off we must go to Malacca. Naturally, we have to eat on the way there, so we stop at one last restaurant in Kuala Lumpur: an Indian mamak restaurant. Open 24 hours, it serves excellent cone-shaped sweet roti tissu flatbread, as well as roti kosong and roti telur, both of which are great with dipping sauces.

And let’s not forget the famous teh tarik, or pulled milk tea. We are mesmerized by the man pouring it in long streams from pitcher to mug.

After breakfast, we say our farewell to Kuala Lumpur, its street food, restaurants, sights, and sounds, and drive south to explore more of the country’s culinary scene. To be continued (when my stomach is less full)…

Ametsa, as the restaurant is already—and not surprisingly—called for short, took the place of Nahm, one of my favorite London restaurants. Given that I was sad to see its predecessor go (I have to fly all the way to Bangkok to eat at its sibling of the same name now), I had high expectations for its replacement.

So did seemingly everyone else in London. And I suppose that’s no surprise given Arzak’s reputation as one of the best restaurants in the world. But when the early reviews rolled in, they suggested that Ametsa was no Arzak-north. In fact, when I tweeted that I was going to Ametsa for dinner, I got several replies from London food bloggers recommending that I cancel my review.

With that as my introduction, I arrived at Ametsa with Arzak Instruction with a bit of trepidation. But things looked up with a warm welcome from the friendly staff, all of whom were clad in chic black uniforms.

My dinner date and I were seated in chairs that strangely resembled patio furniture, what with their mesh seats and hollow metal frames. We sat beneath a ceiling lined with glass tubes that looked like so many phalluses. It was a bit of a strange ambiance for a restaurant in London.

But a glass of Cava helped us overlook the eccentricities of the dining room, and soon we embarked on the tasting menu at Ametsa. It started as an intense experience, what with four beautifully presented starters arriving at once on plates and platters of various materials.

The rice with fish mousse was a bit too crunchy, but the rich kataifi with scorpion fishcake was more to my liking.

The rest of the meal ranged from scallops with beta-carotene—of which I enjoyed the former but thought the latter a bit gelatinous—to king prawns with a sweet corn sauce. It was a creative dish, and as with most of the others, presented beautifully.

The “From Egg to Chicken” dish was the only one of the evening that I thought was unappetizing. The combination fell flat, and the dish lacked cohesion. But the monkfish with a red onion paper was fresh and flavorful, and was the best course of the evening.

Then came the pigeon. It wasn’t my favorite, although I’m not a fan of pigeon in general. The accompanying “shot” was a mix of colorful potato dots and balsamic-filled bubbles that burst open on the tongue. It was a nice nod to the molecular gastronomy that Arzak is known for.

The first dessert of the evening was a surprise, which came with two caramel-looking bites that turned out to contain orange juice. It was an interesting combination, although the concentrated sweetness of the orange flavor was a bit too intense for me.

The bites were followed by a fruit course with a liquid nitrogen strawberry sauce. It was creative and entertaining, what with the server making it bubble as he poured the nitrogen over the shot glass full of berries.

The last dessert was a small brioche with mango and coconut, a solid combination of sweet flavors. It was followed by a pretty plate of petit fours.

When the meal ended, I concluded that while Ametsa with Arzak Instruction wasn’t what the early reviews and tweets suggested, it also didn’t quite live up to the Arzak name. Above all, it made me want Nahm back in London. Given that I flew to Malaysia yesterday, I might just have to travel to Bangkok to get my fix. And then to San Sebastian to get a taste of the actual Arzak.

South Kensington’s museums are the area’s biggest draw for visitors. The Natural History Museum, Science Museum, and Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A) are three of London’s best museums, and I try to visit each of them as often as I can.

Yesterday I walked over to the V&A, a massive museum featuring everything from beautiful ball gowns to historical furnishings. I was there to see the new David Bowie is exhibition, which showcased a wide variety of the artist’s famous outlandish outfits, original song lyrics, paintings, and other memorabilia.

The museum offered me a ticket, and I spent the afternoon in the main exhibition halls learning about Bowie’s art and career. A headset guided the tour, picking up sound at various points in the rooms. It was a new take on the audioguide concept, and I liked it save for a few times when the sound cut in and out. Overall I really enjoyed the exhibition, and was glad to give up some time in the sun to see it.

Back outside, I basked under blue skies as I walked down to Walton Street, one of South Kensington’s biggest draws for locals. The road is a favorite for restaurants, shopping, bars, and nightlife, and is lined with everything from clothing boutiques to cocktail bars. The latter includes Eclipse, where I went last week for their signature watermelon martinis.

Nearby streets are busy with Chanel stores, ladies who lunch, and popular South Kensington restaurants like Cassis, a French bistro on the border of Knightsbridge where I once had a great brunch with friends. There is even a fancy version of popular fast-food sushi outlet Itsu, in which the sushi revolves around the bar on a conveyor belt.

For a more casual experience, South Kensington also has its share of good pubs. I recently spent an evening at the Anglesea Arms pub, which had great atmosphere. I have also gone to dinner at the Admiral Codrington a couple of times, and have always had an enjoyable meal.

But the most famous part of South Kensington’s restaurant scene conveniently revolves around the tube station.

The wide pedestrian zone between the station and the aforementioned museums is packed with perennial favorites like Casa Brindisa, which serves Spanish tapas, Le Comptoir Libanais, a colorful Lebanese restaurant, Le Pain Quotidien, which is a favorite for breakfast and lunch, and the new Fernandez & Wells, a cafe and wine bar that I find myself in all too often.

Around the corner are places like Snog, which serves frozen yogurt, Gail’s, a great bakery with mouth-watering window displays, Bubbleology, a new place serving bubble tea in South Kensington, and La Cave a Fromage, a great cheese shop.

Back at the museums, I headed north up Exhibition Road, passing by Imperial College, which currently has an exhibition about the past, present, and future of science that includes live demos and a 3D printer. Further north was Royal Albert Hall, where I went to the proms a couple of summers ago.

Across the road from there was Hyde Park, where I concluded my warm spring walk through South Kensington’s museums and restaurants with a walk. I’m glad I did, too, because today the rain is threatening again. So much for spring in London!

Despite having lived in London for over five years, I haven’t spent more than a few hours in Brussels since I moved here. But I lived and worked in the city for a summer after college, and I couldn’t wait to get back and rediscover some of my favorite places.

I took the Eurostar to Brussels to be interviewed on Peter Greenberg Worldwide Radio. The short journey through the Channel Tunnel and into Europe was a good one, what with getting to share my thoughts about London and Brussels on the air and getting to know the other guests on the show.

When we arrived at the Gare du Midi, I waved good-bye to the others and hopped on a connecting train to the central station. Just across the way was my hotel for the night, Le Meridien Brussels.

They had offered me a stay in one of their newly renovated Delxue rooms, a large space with contemporary design and Le Meridien’s signature emphasis on art.

I settled into my room, then explored the bright lounge and bar area before heading out to do some sightseeing in Brussels. The famous Grand Place was just a few steps away from the hotel, and soon I found myself steeped in history and medieval charm.

From the Grand Place, I walked through the Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert, a beautiful covered shopping arcade lined with more Belgian chocolate shops than I’ve ever seen.

Outside was the bustling Rue des Bouchers, a narrow pedestrian street perennially crowded with the tables of so many cafes. Jutting off from there was an alley where the famous Delirium Cafe was located. It was known for serving the widest range of beers of any bar in the world.

Opposite Delirium was a hidden gem of a sightseeing highlight in Brussels, the Jeanneke Pis. The small fountain of a girl peeing was created as a counterpoint to its famous sibling, the Manneken Pis.

Further down towards the Bourse, I passed by Falstaff, a famous Art Nouveau cafe and bar, and crossed the busy Boulevard Anspach to explore the funky shops, boutiques, and restaurants on the other side.

Later, I crossed back through the Grand Place and up to the Grand Sablon, a chi chi square lined with some of the best Belgian chocolate shops in Brussels.

Tempted as I was to indulge, I had a dinner reservation to attend to. Peter Greenberg and his producers invited me to join them for a meal at La Quincaillerie, a funky restaurant in Ixelles set in an old hardware store. The meal featured everything from oysters to Poulet de Bresse, and we got a tour of the kitchen to see the action.

The next morning I had a big buffet breakfast at Le Meridien, then met up with the group from the night before at a nearby chocolate shop called Laurent Gerbaud. Laurent himself took us into his workshop, where he taught Peter how to make mendiants, chocolate discs with dried fruits and nuts on top.

Afterwards Peter interviewed Laurent for his TV show while the rest of us sipped heavenly hot chocolate. Given that the shop offers chocolate making classes, I vowed to return for another weekend in Brussels to try my hand at my own confections.

After cocoa, it was time for lunch. The venue was Bocconi restaurant, which was located right behind the Grand Place. The food was Italian, and we feasted on everything from fried calamari to fresh pasta.

Soon it was time to travel back to London. My trip to Belgium had been way too short, what with the lack of time to visit the city’s excellent museums and taste more of the famous food—Belgian waffles, fries, mussels, and beer to name a few.

But the city is so close to London that I should be able to find an excuse to return for another weekend in Brussels soon. If my travel schedule ever lets up, anyway.

As it turns out, the fuss is about a lot. From the laid-back vibe to the foodie culture, from the great riverfront scene to the hidden laneways, the city impressed me with its livable, likable qualities.

Before I arrived, I heard tell of Melbourne’s identity as a place you have to know to really get the most out of it. Lucky for me, I had the benefit of a lot of insider tips from friends, readers, and guides.

The city had a plethora of cafes and coffee shops, most of which were independent. I got a chance to sample a few while I was in town, including the historic Pellegrini’s, where I met up with a local reader of A Lady in London, and the funky Brother Baba Budan, where I went with a fellow travel blogger.

Apart from the cafes, Melbourne’s restaurant culture showed its best side at a dinner I was offered with a friend of a friend at Ezard. The restaurant, like many of Melbourne’s best features, was hidden away on Flinders Lane such that I passed by it several times before I found it.

But once inside the intimate dining room, my friend and I discovered a world of ‘Australian freestyle’ cuisine in the six-course tasting menu and wine pairing. Dishes like mezcal cured salmon with pickled snow pea salad, wasabi jam, smoked yogurt, a sesame seed crisp, and tangerine vinaigrette paired with a 2012 Kirei Shuzo ‘Karakuchi 80′ Junmai Nama Genshu sake from Hiroshima showed me why everyone raves about Melbourne’s food scene. Add to that the excellent service, and this American foodie was ready to become an expat for a second time.

But the restaurants and coffee shops weren’t the only thing that Melbourne had going for it. Nor were they the only things that I wouldn’t have found on my own. As it turns out, the city was home to some excellent art galleries, some of which were so well hidden that I only found them thanks to an art map of Melbourne from ArtSpotter.

The company offered me a map of Melbourne’s art galleries for my trip, and I spent one afternoon exploring exhibition spaces around the city. From local artists showcased in spaces up several flights of unmarked stairs to international artists exhibited in underground rooms tucked around corners, the art map helped me discover a secret side of Melbourne that I never would have found otherwise.

The same went for shopping. Several people recommended that I check out some of the city’s historic shopping arcades, including the famous Block Arcade and Royal Arcade. I probably wouldn’t have found them on my own, but I was glad to have discovered their boutiques, shops, and cafes at the suggestion of others.

And that’s to say nothing of laneways like Degraves Street, a famous Melbourne pedestrian alley brimming with coffee shops and restaurants. All of them allowed their tables and chairs to spill into the middle of the street, creating a lively, social environment.

When I needed a rest between discoveries, I retreated to my hotel, another hidden gem near Chinatown on Little Bourke Street. The Ovolo Hotel just opened last year, and was tucked away in a discreet space that offered a great home-away-from-home feeling. No one I talked to in Melbourne had heard of it, which made me feel all the more like I had discovered another of the city’s treasures.

The hotel offered me two nights in a one-bedroom suite on the third floor. It featured sleek design with a sunny bedroom, contemporary bathroom, and incredibly spacious living room and kitchenette. The fully stocked minibar was entirely complimentary, and they even left me a goody bag full of snacks and sweets. The staff was friendly, and I felt perfectly safe and secure staying there as a solo female traveler.

In fact, I felt that way everywhere I went in Melbourne, day and night. Whether on a long walk along the riverfront promenade, in the heart of the Federation Square, or in the graffiti-covered alleys in the laneways, Melbourne had an easygoing feel to it that made me comfortable no matter where I went.

And I went to more places than just those in the city center. In fact, there was enough fuss about Melbourne and its surroundings that I took two day trips, traveling further afield in Victoria to visit the wine country in the Yarra Valley and the nightly penguin parade on Phillip Island. But each of those places has so much fuss of its own that you’ll have to stay tuned for more…

A quick hop from the San Diego International Airport, Point Loma is a pretty stretch of land that curls around San Diego Bay and Coronado Island, offering great views of the downtown area and easy access to places like SeaWorld and Ocean Beach.

The area itself has a lot do to and see (and eat, of course!), and between hospital visits, my mother and I had a chance to take in the highlights.

Since I am obsessed with food, we’ll start there. The night before the baby arrived, my family drove over to Liberty Station, a former naval training center that is now a shopping and dining area.

My brother and his wife took us to a new restaurant and sports bar called Slater’s, where we feasted on some of the best burgers I’ve ever had.

I ordered the 50/50 burger, which was made from ground beef and ground bacon. Suffice it to say that it was heaven on a plate, or a heart attack on a plate, depending on whether you see the glass as half full or half empty. And speaking of the glass, they had around 100 beers on tap, including some of San Diego’s increasingly famous microbrews.

Keeping it local, we didn’t have to leave Liberty Station to have another good meal in Point Loma. A few nights later, my mother and I found ourselves at Tender Greens, a casual order-at-the-counter restaurant where I enjoyed a giant Chinese chicken salad while my mother feasted on chipotle chicken and roasted vegetables.

Beyond food, we also found shelter in Point Loma. Literally. We stayed on Shelter Island, a presque-isle connected to the mainland by a thin strip of land. Our room at Humphreys overlooked the America’s Cup Harbor marina, and we awoke every morning to see thousands of sunny sails.

Out front, the island had a long, art-studded walking path by the bay. It offered great views of downtown San Diego and the naval air station on Coronado Island.

It also had a view of the end of Point Loma, where Cabrillo National Monument lay. The monument and its adjacent park featured everything from a statue in honor of the first European explorer in San Diego Bay to walking trails and vista points.

My mother had purchased a senior pass for $20 awhile back—not bad for lifetime membership (they may need to update their actuarial tables)!—and I went along as her guest.

We explored the small museum dedicated to the history of the European exploration of the Americas, then went to the visitor center, which was full of information about the local flora and fauna, including skunks, coyotes, foxes, rattlesnakes, and lots of plants and wildflowers.

We admired the lighthouse from afar, then went down to the tide pools to see the waves wash up against the coastal cliffs. I couldn’t wait to take my new nephew there in a few years.

Speaking of my nephew, it was sad to leave Point Loma to travel home, but he has given me one more adorable excuse to return. I don’t think it will be long before I’m back in San Diego and exploring more of the area, toddler in tow.

A lot, actually. While San Francisco has no shortage of excellent restaurants, it also has its share of options for grazing. This is a big benefit on those occasions when I can’t commit to reservations or when I just want a few (hundred) marginal calories in addition to the thousands I consume every day I’m in California.

On this trip, I had no trouble finding little feasts for every part of the day. In my own neighborhood, the Marina, I picked up my favorite tuna sandwich from the adorable Blue Barn Gourmet and my perennial favorite ahi poke wasabi bowl from Pacific Catch.

Down the road, I couldn’t resist a mid-afternoon sweet treat from Kara’s Cupcakes. Their fleur de sel chocolate cupcake was a winner that day, but on another occasion I dove into a red velvet one that was equally good.

But my favorite cupcakes in San Francisco are from Miette, a patisserie in the city’s Ferry Building.

On Saturday morning my mother and I headed out to the famous farmers’ market there, grazing away on everything from Miette’s beautiful gingerbread cupcakes to the famous triple cream Mt Tam cheese from Cowgirl Creamery (let it never be said that the USA doesn’t do good cheese!).

I also introduced my mom to the farmers’ market’s secret Blue Bottle Coffee stand in the front of the building, which has much shorter lines than either of their other two locations (don’t tell your friends). We loaded up on lattes before grazing on samples of fresh oranges and pears.

Back in The Marina, I fed my California wine habit with a glass of Pinot Noir from my favorite wine bar, Nectar. Always buzzing, it somehow manages to have a table just opening up every time I arrive. This visit was no exception, and a friend and I caught up without needing a reservation.

Speaking of no reservations, later that night I had dinner at Pizzeria Delfina in Pacific Heights. They don’t take bookings at all, but my friend and I had a surprisingly short wait for their famous pizzas on Tuesday.

The same went for the famous brunch at Ella’s in Presidio Heights. Jet lag worked in my favor when my mother and I arrived early enough to snag a table and tuck into a feast of lemon-ricotta pancakes and an open-face omelette.

Over in Cow Hollow, I met up with another friend at Roam, a great order-at-the-counter place with burgers so big that mine came complete with tortilla chips inside.

And back by my apartment, I finished off my two weeks of grazing in San Francisco with breakfast at The Grove, a beloved neighborhood cafe with a rustic interior and coveted outdoor seating. My mother and I enjoyed a breakfast bagel there on my last day of sunshine before returning to the snow in London.

Come to think of it, maybe the food and wine in San Francisco tie with the weather when it comes to the things I miss most when I am away (when the fog is out, anyway). But I prefer to use the weather as my excuse for decamping to sunny San Diego, which, conveniently, was the next destination on my California trip…

I arrived in California last week to await the arrival of my new nephew. His due date was Friday, but the stork decided to be fashionably late. Rather than encourage the bird’s tardiness, my mother and I instead encouraged our thirst for the products of one of our state’s great wine producing regions.

The Napa Valley is one of the best places to go wine tasting in California. People from all over the world flock to its vineyards in the spring, summer, and fall, hopping from winery to winery, tasting room to cellar door.

While locals tend to avoid it in favor of less crowded, less commercial areas like Sonoma and Russian River, it’s hard to beat Napa when it comes to grapes like Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon.

This is especially true in the winter, when the usual crowds are gone and it is possible to get counter space at Napa’s tasting rooms without having to (delicately, respectfully) use one’s elbows.

This was certainly the case at the first winery we visited in Napa. The Hess Collection is located deep in the oak-studded hills, and its tasting area had plenty of room for us.

We sampled everything from Sauvignon Blanc to Zinfandel, and of course the famous Cabernet Sauvignons. The man that poured our wines even had time to talk us through each one, something that would have been difficult in the busy summer season.

We also had time to take a guided tour with only six people on it. During the tour, we learned that the winery was started during Prohibition by a man that thought that he could escape the law if he hid his business away in the hills. Sadly, he was mistaken.

The local Christian Brothers were allowed to purchase the winery and continue production under the guise of making sacramental wine for the church. Loophole!

Years later, Swiss art collector Donald Hess took over, and today the winery is not only home to the famous Napa Valley wines, but also his impressive collection of contemporary art.

Our tour of the Hess Collection winery took us through the gallery, where we saw the works of Francis Bacon and other famous artists from around the world. Best of all, we had the whole place to ourselves. It certainly beat a busy day at the Tate Modern.

Leaving the winery, we encountered another benefit of visiting the Napa Valley in winter: the flora. While the grapevines were bare and leafless, the fields around them were bursting with tiny yellow flowers. Add to that the bright blue sky, brilliant sunshine, and 70 degree (20 degree C) weather, and we had to keep reminding ourselves that it was February.

The same was true when we arrived at our next winery, Domaine Chandon. It is best known for its sparkling wines and beautiful outdoor seating areas. In the summer, it is a miracle to find a table, but on this pretty winter day, we sat right down in the afternoon sun and imbibed our bubbles among the old oaks.

As if our day of wine tasting in Napa hadn’t already gone perfectly, we happened upon yet another benefit of visiting during the off-season: getting a table at Thomas Keller’s Bouchon restaurant in Yountville without a reservation.

It’s not quite the same thing as getting a table at his other restaurant in town (that’s The French Laundry for those that don’t know their Napa Valley Michelin stars), but it was still something that we couldn’t have done in the summer.

Dinner was a feast of sunchoke-and-cauliflower soup, farro salad, steamed mussels with black truffle fries, Idaho trout, and chocolate bouchons with peanut butter sauce and salted caramel ice cream, all washed down with an elegant Freeman Pinot Noir.

The dinner at Bouchon was a great way to finish our day in the Napa Valley. As we traveled back to San Francisco on traffic-free roads and wide-open highways, we vowed to make our winter visits to California’s wine country a regular occurrence. We just hope nobody else catches on to our idea. Shhhhh…

Despite being just over a year old, Boqueria is already a hit on the London restaurant scene. With fresh awards under its belt, the team behind it invited me and a friend to taste its tapas on Saturday night.

And taste we did. We started with acorn-fed Iberico ham and chorizo with pan con tomate. The meats were rich and flavorful, starting the meal off on a good note.

From there we moved on to croquetas de jamon, plump golden parcels with deliciously smooth centers. We washed them down with wine, a fruity 2009 Beronia Crianza Rioja that our server had done a great job in choosing for us.

Next came the octopus with paprika on a bed of potatoes. It was good, but a bit too salty. Thankfully the black rice with squid and mussels that came after it contained just the right balance of flavors.

As did Boqueria’s suckling pig with parsnips, sweet potato crisps, and apple sauce. It was served with lemon sorbet, which provided a cool, sharp contrast to the warm, sweet pork and made for a unique combination.

Next came dessert, which was the only part of the meal we weren’t impressed with. We tried most of the dessert menu in a sampling platter, but couldn’t pick out one that really had enough flavor.

Instead, we made do with Sherry and a plate of patatas bravas that had gone missing in the tapas shuffle before our desserts came. The sauce had just the right amount of kick to it, and the piping hot potatoes were perfect.

At the end of the meal, we took a quick peek at the downstairs dining room, which had a nice little bar area kitted out with Mies van der Rohe’s famous Barcelona chairs.

Back upstairs, we passed through the bar at the entrance as we made our way out of Boqueria restaurant and back into Brixton. If our tapas were any indication of the rest of the neighborhood’s cuisine, my first foray into this part of London would certainly not be my last.

Last week I headed to the French capital for two days to fall in love with my favorite city in the world all over again. To sigh longingly over its beautiful architecture, embrace its charming style, and kiss the sugared lips of its sweet pastries.

To that end, I went straight to one of the city’s most famous luxury hotels when I arrived: the Four Seasons George V. As if it knew that I was coming to find love, the hotel was bursting with flowers. The resident florist, acclaimed Jeff Leatham, had garlanded the high-ceilinged lobby with a green-and-fuchsia extravaganza.

Upstairs, my newly renovated room awaited. The hotel had offered it to me on a complimentary basis for the night, but I would have been willing to pay a handsome sum to spend an evening there. Spacious and bright, its mint, lavender, and cream color scheme made me feel like I was cocooned in a Laduree macaron.

And speaking of food, downstairs I enjoyed a big breakfast of lemon and ricotta pancakes in the stunning gallery as well as a plate of perfect petit fours and a punch cocktail in the sumptuous bar.

My love affair continued with indulgence at the spa at the George V. From the sauna to the steam room, it was an utterly relaxing experience. And that’s to say nothing of the pool and hot tub, which were surrounded by classical paintings and set under a ceiling that looked like the sky.

But my love of the hotel couldn’t trump that of my love of the city beyond its luxurious walls. To that end, I left my pretty room a few times to spend some time outside.

One such venture involved a walk past the Eiffel Tower and into St Germain for lunch at my favorite hidden gem in Paris, Cuisine de Bar. My artichoke and sun-dried tomato tartine was blissfully good, proving, as Paris has always known, that the way to my heart is through my stomach.

Similarly delicious experiences were had in the Marais, where I met up with friends for coffee at a new cafe called Pinson and a restaurant called Glou. Later I went with one of them to a funky cafe called Le Loir dans la Theiere, where we humored our sweet tooths with carrot cake and the biggest lemon meringue tart I’ve ever seen.

Closer to the hotel, I had dinner with another friend at Chez Andre, a brasserie so classic that it was almost a caricature of itself. The food was great—my poached eggs and mushrooms in Burgundy sauce was a big winner—, the ambiance buzzing, and the silver fox of a server so harmlessly flirtatious that we couldn’t help batting our lashes coquettishly.

At the end of my short stay in Paris, I checked out of the George V and traveled back to London. Even with just two days in France, I found that I had not only renewed my affections for the city I love, but also found new reasons to adore it. Happy Valentine’s Day, Paris. Je t’aime. xx

Harrison’s just emerged from a big refurbishment, and the restaurant invited me to have dinner there last night to celebrate its first day open after the remodel. I hopped on the Northern line and soon found myself in a funky neighborhood filled with cute cafes, boutiques, and restaurants. So far I liked Balham.

I also liked Harrison’s. The sign outside was all sparkling lights, but the ambiance in the restaurant was cool and sleek. The open kitchen was fronted by intimate booths and a brown leather banquette, and big windows connected the zinc-topped bar tables with the buzz outside.

In the background, everything from Led Zeppelin to Steve Miller serenaded my friend and me as we looked over the eclectic brown paper menu, which doubled as a placemat. I chose to start with burrata with clementines and honey glazed almonds, which was a great blend of creamy and citrusy, dairy and spice.

My friend went with the chilled crab trifle, which was served in a funky jar along with avocado, tomatoes, and cheese. It was a refreshing blend of flavors, although it could have used a bit of a kick to bring them out.

Moving on to the mains, I chose Harrison’s meatballs with soft polenta, which was warm winter comfort food on a plate. My friend went with the Goan fish curry, which wowed us both with its fresh seafood and great blend of spices.

To finish off the evening, I had a gooey chocolate fondant with caramel ice cream. It was a sweet treat, and a great end to the meal. My friend went with a rhubarb dessert with cardamom, an inventive and refreshing balance of creaminess, sweetness, and spice.

When we finished, we pried ourselves from our cozy booth at Harrison’s and headed north for home. While Balham was a bit of a detour from our usual haunts, it was worth the trip. It may take me another five years to get down there again, but I know which restaurant I will go to when I do.

I first discovered Kitchen W8 two summers ago when I veered off Kensington High Street by accident. I liked the look of it and made a mental note to go back. Then London’s ten million other restaurants jumped the queue, and it wasn’t until they invited me for dinner last night that I made it. I regret not going sooner.

Why? For starters, the starters. Well, first the glass of Champagne and amuse bouche of moreish fried salt cod. Then the starters, which in my case consisted of risotto of Jerusalem artichoke with Vacherin Mont d’Or and winter truffle. The risotto was perfectly cooked, and the cheese added an amazing velvety, buttery component to the dish.

Across the table, my friend dove into a plate of potted venison with beetroot relish, walnut salad, a black pudding scotch egg, and toasted rye bread. The venison was so seductively smoky that I couldn’t even pretend to argue when he offered me the last bite.

As we worked our way through our starters, a bottle of 2009 Au Bon Climat Santa Maria Valley Pinot Noir poured its way into our glasses. It was the perfect California Pinot; rich, elegant, and fruity, it took me from Kitchen W8 to my home terroir on the first swirl.

When it came time for the mains, I relished my braised beef cheek with oxtail and onion pie, smoked beetroot puree, and crushed carrot and horseradish. The meat was tender and flavorful, and the beetroot in particular was winter comfort food on a plate. Across the table, the rump of veal with thyme gnocchi, peppered swede, chestnuts, sprouts, and salsify was enjoyed with equal enthusiasm.

The starters and mains all being winners, dessert was much anticipated. I went with the warm ginger financier with Medjool date ice cream and whipped white chocolate rice pudding. The financier was perfectly light and moist, but the ice cream was a bit too sweet for my taste, and the bits of date on the plate seemed superfluous.

My friend’s roasted hazelnut parfait with salt caramel ice cream, chocolate-soaked brioche, praline, and lime was a dream.

And so was the meal overall. The ambiance in the dining room was light and minimalistic, leaving the food to play the starring role that it did. The service was so flawless that my friend remarked that he barely noticed the comings and goings of our plates and glasses. And the food. Was. Divine. So maybe that’s why Kitchen W8 restaurant is a hidden gem hiding in plain sight. Everyone leaves thinking it was a dream.

She does so successfully, finding several truffles in the oak-studded earth in a matter of minutes. My group follows her and her masters from tree to tree, watching Rosabelle’s nose in wonder. Afterwards we drive to the nearby farmhouse for fresh truffle omelets and aperitifs. It’s not a bad way to spend an afternoon in January.

Not least because it is all within a few miles of the Brive Dordogne Valley Airport, where my group landed after a quick CityJet flight from London City Airport. The airline, which is run by Air France, flew us to the Dordogne Valley for a weekend of discovering the towns and cities along the truffle trail.

And discover we did. I knew next to nothing about this part of southwestern France before traveling there, and I don’t think I was alone. The passport control officials at the airport had to search a back room for a stamp when I arrived, suggesting that non-EU visitors are few and far between.

But once I was out in the countryside, hunting for truffles and exploring the stunning medieval towns in the area, I had a hard time believing that its treasures weren’t more widely known.

Take Collonges-la-Rouge, for example. The town was straight out of a storybook, with narrow cobbled streets and crooked stone buildings full of cafes and artisanal shops. But the best part was that everything was red. Thanks to a nearby quarry, the streets glowed like a warm fire in the soft winter mist.

Not far from there was the hilltop town of Turenne, where stone houses climbed steep slopes on a pilgrimage to the castle at the top.

And that’s to say nothing of Martel, a pretty medieval town with a covered market square. And Sarlat, a walled city beaming with brightness thanks to the yellow limestone that graced every inch of its architecture, from the historic cathedral to the Renaissance-era houses of its wealthiest former inhabitants.

It was in the last of these towns that our truffle tour of France continued with a trip to the annual Sarlat Truffle Festival. Running throughout the weekend, it featured a market selling all things truffle and foie gras, the region’s other main specialty.

There were cooking demonstrations, talks, and truffle-themed events. There was even a lunch at the Hotel de Ville prepared by the truffle festival’s president, multi-Michelin starred Parisian chef Frederic Alan. His truffle eggs were some of the best I had on the trip.

Back in Brive-la-Gaillarde, we explored the rest of the Dordogne Valley’s rich cornucopia, visiting the Saturday farmers’ market where everything from fresh fruits and vegetables to meats, cheeses, and prepared foods was on offer. For those into DIY butchery, there were even live rabbits, chickens, and other animals for sale.

For those not into DIY butchery, we discovered some of the city’s restaurants. First there was a lunch at Chez Francis, a cozy place popular with French writers that attend the annual literary festival in Brive. Many of them had written or drawn on the walls, creating a unique, quirky atmosphere in which we enjoyed everything from sausage tartines to scallops with artichokes.

That evening we dined right down the street at a restaurant called La Cremaillere. Our meal was a beautifully delicious whirlwind of foie gras with truffle eggs, veal, and honey souffles with apple liqueur.

Speaking of liqueur, another thing I learned about the Dordogne Valley was that while the area doesn’t produce wine, it has a number of famous distilleries that furnish residents and guests with spirits. From plum brandy at Louis Roques in Souillac to the famous walnut liqueur at Denoix distillery in Brive, we tasted the regional specialties straight from the source.

When we weren’t out exploring, we were relaxing at our accommodations. On the first night we stayed at the Manoir de Malagorse, a historic farmhouse B&B in the countryside. Despite being just 15 minutes from Brive airport, it was a secluded retreat with beautiful decor and a home-away-from-home feeling.

The owners, Anna and Abel, welcomed us with wine by a warm fireplace, then took us into the huge kitchen, where a table was set for a five-course meal of truffle with foie gras, truffle eggs, truffle risotto, veal, and chocolate fondants. We drank Sancerre and Bordeaux, and floated back to our rooms on a dream.

The following evening our accommodation was very different, but no less comfortable. The Hotel Le Quercy in Brive was right in the heart of the city, across the street from the market. The decor was modern and colorful, and the room quiet and comfortable. It was a good base for exploring the city.

And cooking in it. One afternoon we took a macaron cooking class at a beautiful shop and patisserie called Autour du Dessert. We watched the chef make two types of treats, one a polka dotted chocolate and passion fruit macaron, and the other a pistachio one. We helped a bit, but he was definitely more skilled with a pastry bag than we were.

At the end we celebrated with macarons, tea, and galette des Rois, a seasonal cake eaten in France during the annual Fete des Rois, or Festival of Kings, on the Sunday closest to Epiphany. The cakes fill bakeries throughout the country in the winter season.

And like the galette des Rois season, the truffle season only lasts from December to February. Our winter trip to the area was therefore well-timed, what with our foraging excursion with Rosabelle and visit to the Sarlat Truffle Festival not being possible in the summer.

And while the days were short and the weather cool, we felt like locals as we foraged, ate, and explored our way through the Dordogne Valley in a time free of tourists and full of exciting events.

CityJet flies to Brive from London City Airport. For more information, you can visit www.cityjet.com.

As a Californian in awe of any architectural feat that predates 1950, one of the highlights of my time in the city was exploring the ruins of St Andrews’ cathedral and castle.

The cathedral—or what’s left of it—consists of a few stone walls and towers with gravestones in between. Despite its incompleteness, the place retains a haunting beauty.

The castle is similarly a relic, with its golden walls rising up out of the sea. It even has secret tunnels beneath it that were dug in an attempt (and counter-attempt) to blow up the building during the Reformation.

The cathedral and castle aren’t the only feats of non-golf history in St Andrews, either. The university, which was founded in 1413 and is the third oldest in the United Kingdom after Oxford and Cambridge, is sprinkled throughout the town in a series of beautiful stone buildings that date back centuries.

On the newer end of the spectrum, St Andrews has an abundance of cafes and restaurants that kept my inner foodie happy throughout my stay. From the adorable Bibi’s Bakery to the wonderfully cozy Mitchell restaurant and the new St Andrews Wine Company, there was no shortage of options for food and drink.

I also enjoyed a light lunch compliments of the Scores Hotel, which overlooked the beach, and a dinner compliments of the The Doll’s House restaurant, where Will and Kate used to go on date nights when they were students at the university.

Add to that a meal at Nahm-Jim, a Thai-Japanese restaurant that has been voted the top Thai in the country several times, and my culinary cravings were satisfied.

When I wasn’t eating or exploring, I was staying in the comfort of the Fairmont Hotel in St Andrews. The five-star property offered me a two-night stay during my trip to Scotland, and I was able to take advantage of everything from the excellent breakfast buffet (best haggis I’ve ever had!) to walks with Smudge, the resident yellow lab. Although the hotel was located a 10-minute drive from the city, there was an hourly shuttle between 9am and 6pm that helped cover the distance.

But back to golf. That is what St Andrews is known for, after all, and on Sundays the Old Course is closed to golfers and open to the rest of us. Taking advice from the locals, I went for a walk with some others in my group and visited the famous Swilcan Bridge, where many a golfing legend has posed for a photo after winning an open.

Near there was the unofficial 19th hole, the historic Jigger Inn pub. The interior was perfectly pub-like, with dark wood booths accented by tartan pillows. If this was golf, I was happy to be playing.

But I was really happy just exploring the city, with its beautiful streets and historic atmosphere. It’s no wonder that 90% of people that travel to St Andrews don’t golf. There are too many other things to do.

It wasn’t our first family vacation in Spain. We had taken one of our only European trips there when my brother and I were in junior high, and returning together was coming full-circle. The only difference was that not being on an organized tour this time meant that we were on our own to decide what to do in Madrid.

I’m not going to lie; I was a bit worried when we all convened at our hotel on Gran Via. Why? A couple of reasons. I like to indulge in cured meats, unpasteurized cheeses, and red wine when I travel in Spain. My brother’s wife is pregnant. My mother likes to schedule every nanosecond of the day when she travels. My brother likes a more laid-back agenda. With diverse travel preferences and lifestyle needs, would we be able to create an itinerary that satisfied everyone?

The first positive sign came when I surfaced from the metro and found our hotel. My mother and sister-in-law had chosen well, with the Hotel de las Letras being a great accommodation in the heart of Madrid with a stylish lobby lounge and quotes from international writers on the walls. Comfortable, central, and chic, it made everyone happy.

The second came when everyone agreed to indulge my obsession with food. As such, our first stop in the city was the Mercado de San Miguel. The beautiful covered market’s variety of stalls and abundance of central tables meant that everyone could find a tapa or two that suited her or his dietary needs (mine being saturated fat), whether they came in the form of wedges of Manchego, sun-dried-tomato-stuffed green olives, croquetas de jamon, or creamy gazpacho with potato chips.

The same was true on our second trip to the market, when we filled the table with coffee, hot chocolate, raspberry tarts, chocolate cakes, more Manchego, additional olives, and a thick wedge of piping hot Spanish tortilla.

The positive signs continued on our first evening in Madrid when we went out for a special dinner to celebrate my mother’s 27th birthday (Yes, 27th. No, don’t try to dispute it with your “mathematics” and “logic”. If I wasn’t allowed to, you aren’t either).

A friend of mine that used to live in the city recommended a restaurant called Las Tortillas de Gabino. As the name implied, the specialty was Spanish tortilla. But the rest of the menu was equally excellent. From flavorful calamari to succulent duck, we had a feast that everyone could enjoy. We were also the only non-Spanish speakers in the restaurant, which was a nice feeling after being tourists all day.

A not-so-nice feeling was the dampness of my coat after a waiter spilled red wine on me at a cafe in the famous Plaza Mayor. Thankfully he had a remedy that removed the stain and allowed us to resume drinking Ribera de Duero, my new favorite Spanish wine, and eating patatas bravas and other tiny treats.

The third good sign of my family’s ability to travel together came when we decided to visit two of the city’s three largest museums. First we headed to the Prado, Madrid’s famous fine art museum, to take advantage of the free entry offered during the last two opening hours of every day.

The finite period of time pleased my brother, who is a self-proclaimed “45-minute-museum kind of guy”, while the fact that I had been there last year and didn’t need to spend hours re-perusing every painting kept me happy. My mother’s gnat-like attention span saw to it that she viewed everything she needed to in the allotted time, and my brother’s wife appreciated not having to stay on her feet for too long.

The same went for our viewing of the Thyssen-Bornemisza museum’s permanent collection. My brother was patient with the rest of us through the Renaissance art, which wasn’t his favorite, and we paced ourselves throughout the Baroque, Impressionist, Expressionist, and other galleries so that everyone left happy.

Our last museum in Madrid was meant to be the Palacio Real, but the palace was closed for official state business the day we tried to go. Still, if we had managed to get a tour of the state rooms, I’m sure we would have done just fine.

The fourth sign that my family was able to travel well together came in the form of shopping. My brother and I aren’t big shoppers (my mom still buys us socks for Christmas every year), but my mother and sister-in-law enjoy a good dose of retail therapy. As a compromise, we hit up El Rastro, the big Sunday market in La Latina.

The outdoor location and variety of stalls kept my brother and me distracted with sensory overload while the plethora of goods on offer gave my mom and my brother’s wife a chance to pick up some new winter scarves. At the end, everyone was satisfied by a good trip to the market.

After three days in Madrid, my family had not only managed to see the sights (and eat them, too!), but also make sure that each of us had a chance to see and do what we were most interested in. With our disparate travel styles, it was no small feat. But it was a lot of fun, and proved that after all these years we can still vacation together. Which is good, because the trip didn’t end there. From Madrid, we traveled to Malaga…

I was invited up to Scotland by the Dalmahoy, a Marriott Hotel and County Club in Edinburgh, which was located near the city in acres of woodland and golf courses. The hotel, a historic Baronial manor house, put me and my fellow travelers up in spacious rooms in the main house, all of which were tartaned out and properly Scottish.

Despite arriving seven hours late, we were given time to settle into our rooms after a warm welcome. Mine had two large windows with views of golfing greens, lakes, and Edinburgh Castle in the distance.

Inside, dark wood furniture and classic paintings surrounded a massive bed, which was on the other side of a wall from the largest bathroom I’ve ever seen. It even had its own fireplace.

After getting settled in, I met my group in the bar. Cozy as could be, it was filled with overstuffed chairs, wooden tables, and tartan pillows. While we enjoyed G&Ts, a bagpiper set the scene with a musical welcome to Scotland. He even piped us up the stairs to dinner, which we enjoyed in a private dining room.

The food was excellent. Ranging from fresh, flavorful smoked salmon to perfectly cooked lamb, it was a great taste of local cuisine. For dessert we were treated to cranachan, a traditional sweet ending made with cream, whisky, honey, and oats.

But the Scottish culinary immersion didn’t end with dinner. Back down in the bar, we did a whisky tasting. From single malt to cocktails and chocolate pairings, we learned a lot of the basics and sampled a range of flavors.

The next morning we awoke to gloriously sunny weather, which was a welcome treat after thick fog in London the day before. We ate a buffet breakfast in the restaurant, which had great views across the golf course, and then headed over to the spa for treatments.

The spa was located in a newer building attached to the main hotel. It housed everything from a huge pool to a spacious restaurant and large bar. The pint-size spa was quite a bit smaller than the other areas, though.

My massage was relaxing, but the table didn’t have a face cradle, so my neck was sore afterwards. Still, I couldn’t complain about an otherwise good spa experience.

The rest of our 24 hours in Edinburgh were spent in the city itself. We hopped in a taxi at the hotel and arrived 30 minutes later. I met up with my friend Kash of BudgetTraveller fame, who gave me a tour of some of his favorite parts of the Royal Mile and the area around Edinburgh Castle.

Despite having been there multiple times, I saw a lot of Edinburgh that I hadn’t discovered before. Kash first took me to a secret garden just off the Royal Mile that had beautiful manicured flora and great views of Calton Hill.

Near the castle, he pointed out Adam Smith’s grave, the old city walls, and the location of the historic city gates, which were marked out on the street near the World’s End pub.

Further up, he showed me a stone heart inlaid in the sidewalk that some locals spit on as they pass (and we got a very timely example of it as one man walked up, stopped, dropped some saliva, and moved on).

After admiring the castle, which I toured on my last trip to Edinburgh, we walked down a set of steep steps to Grassmarket, a large square where public hangings used to take place on a round stone. The square is now known for its nightlife, where people can have a pint at the Last Drop, a pub where the condemned supposedly had their final pint before being strung up.

From Grassmarket, we walked up Victoria Street, one of the prettiest shopping streets in Edinburgh, past the Elephant House cafe, where J.K. Rowling wrote some of the Harry Potter novels, and over to Greyfriars Kirkyard, where a monument and grave to Greyfriars Bobby, the loyal dog that remained by his master’s grave for years after his death, were located.

After a stroll through the grounds, it was time to meet back up with my group at Spoon cafe, another place that claimed to have hosted J.K. Rowling while she wrote the Harry Potter books. Spoon had a lovely vintage feel, with mismatched chairs and china teacups.

My feta and zucchini fritters with potato and pea shoot salad and my side of chunky chips smothered in cheddar were exactly what I needed to warm up and get sustenance for the long journey home to London.

And long it was. My flight to City airport was canceled due to fog, so I ended up traveling on a later flight to Heathrow. But I got home in the end, and I would have endured the transport issues again for another 24 hours in Edinburgh. I might have to, too, as I’m planning to go back again in not too long. Exciting announcement coming soon…

I arrived at the Ampersand hotel, where Apero is located, on Wednesday evening. A host showed me to the Games Room, an intimate private dining room where I met my dinner companions. Among these was Stefan, the founder of Lime & Tonic, a company that offers exclusive London experiences like our dinner (you may remember them from my blog post about their amazing supper club).

I kicked the evening off with a glass of bubbly as Stefan introduced me to the other founders in attendance. There was a diverse group of people, from angel investors to marketers and entrepreneurs. The commonality between all of us was that we had each had created something, be it a product, a service, or a variety of funding opportunities.

When the sparkling wine was finished, our glasses were replaced by a choice of cocktails ranging from Aperol Spritzs to Gin & Tonics. I chose the latter, sipping and enjoying canapes before sitting down at the large central table for dinner.

The food at Apero was served family-style, with large plates of Italian bread and olive oil arriving first, followed by plump white pillows of burrata.

After they were finished, bowls of pink beetroot risotto with stone bass arrived, then a course of chicken and pork with fennel and sides of creamy mashed potatoes and braised red cabbage.

The food was good; it wasn’t spectacular, but it was of a sufficient quality for a dinner that was more focused on networking than on cuisine.

Throughout the evening the conversation flowed, with topics ranging from raising capital to legal issues for start-ups and using social media as a marketing tool. At the end, I felt like I had met some great new business contacts in an enjoyable atmosphere.

And now to be a good networker and follow up with them all…