Travel Love Letter

I remember the first time I ever booked a hostel room. My dad nonchalantly informed me that he was not, in fact, Liam Neeson — ergo, he would not be taking names through Europe to find me when I got kidnapped. Fair enough, I thought. My dad’s c’est la vie attitude towards my inevitable disappearance aside, the exchange shows us that hostels sometimes get a bad rap. But for me, they’re the only places I stay when I travel.

For most of U.S. history, Paris reigned as the food-vacation Mecca. To get your gourmet cred, to validate your thoughts on bread and fine dining, you had to have spent time at the bistros of Saint Germain and wandered the alleys of the Marais. But it’s high time to put that myth to rest, chuck the Euro-centric view of food, and realize that the best food vacation destination is closer and cheaper than France. I’m talking about Mexico City.

Conversations with friends, family, colleagues, and strangers have followed a pretty tight script for the past two years that my fiancé, Joe, and I have been engaged. It usually starts with: “You’re engaged! Congrats! When is the wedding?” Once that’s out of the way, it’s: “Where are you planning to have it?” When we say Portland, Maine, like clockwork, we get: “Oh … why Maine?

When you think of Miami, what do you think of? A place to catch some rays with a frosty beverage in your hand and miles of sandy beaches at your feet? A place where salsa dance beats and international flavors create a tangible energy and sizzling nightlife scene? This is the Miami you see in the movies and hear about in songs. This is the Miami that everyone knows. But Miami is so much more than this — especially when it comes to food.