I come from stock where anything that can't be grown, hunted, fished or foraged in East Anglia is dismissed as “foreign muck” (with the noticeable exceptions of coffee, wine and tobacco - hmm, Mum, Dad?) I was 19 before I ate in a curry house, 28 when I first tried sushi - I remain the only person in my family to have done so. So sheltered and scared was I that on my first self-catering holiday in France, I took my own body weight in tinned goods and dined, the first night, on a Fray Bentos pie. Now a sophisticated and cosmopolitan woman (stop laughing at the back!) I present my guide to Eating Abroad.
Tea: The only country where you're all but guaranteed a kettle in your room is Blighty. Worse, the tea served abroad is universally revolting: weak as a kitten and either served with hot milk (ugh!), UHT milk (blee!) or no milk at all (waiter!). There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with sacrificing a corner of your suitcase for a travel kettle and 40 teabags. You're British, after all.
Vegetarians: I'm not, my husband is. Absolute nightmare. He nearly starved in Brittany, as the French resolutely refuse to believe that lardons (the bacon bits in salads) count as meat. As the spouse of a veggie, be prepared for the disappointment of walking past 50 top-class restaurants until you find a dodgy-looking establishment that smells of drains, but sells Margerita pizza.
Tourist Traps: Every year I forget about them. Every year I get ripped off. In 2009, we paid €27 for a glass of wine and a Coke on the Champs Élysées. At least in Fornells last year I realised the famous Menorcan lobster stew, caldereta, was €70 for two BEFORE we sat down.
The USA: Prepare before you go by tripling portion size, dousing everything in cinnamon and getting your wife to introduce herself when she puts your dinner in front of you. Set fire to a few £10 notes to desensitise yourself to the shock of tipping 20% for the privilege.
