Amangroupies take note: The newest in the ultra chic and haute, haute, haute chain of boutique resorts has opened in Utah, just north of Page, Ariz. Like its sibilings in the Amanresorts chain, the Amangiri, Sanskrit for peaceful mountain, is tricked out with facilities that put most high-end resorts to shame.

For starters, there's the 25,000-foot spa with indoor and outdoor treatment rooms, an expansive yoga studio plated with gold, a watsu pool, and a water pavilion with step pool, cold plunge pool, sauna, and steam room.

The main pavilion has an expansive living space with private seating areas (indoors and out) and lounges, dining areas, wine room, library, and open kitchen. On one side, views take in the expansive canyon lands; on the other, the rock-framed pool.

The ultra-private suites have a wall of doors that open to the outside world, and some have private pools and rooftop terraces for star gazing.

The resort is situated on 600 private, gated acres with easy access--and guided adventures--to Lake Powell, Zion National Park, Grand Staircase/Escalante, the Vermillion Cliffs, and Monument Valley.

Oh, and if you have to ask...opening rates begin at $600, room only.

Across from Buddakan, we seek solace on top of Hotel Gansevoort in New York City. Fat chance. Up top, a hundred drunk kids in Prada are dancing their brains out while some dude plays drums on a bucket to accompany some loud music. Fun for another night.

We taxi north, walk through the lobby of the Hudson Hotel and get in the elevator. It lets us out on a deck halfway up the side of the building and we find a quiet nook. The city floats so calmly at our feet, it doesn’t matter that we’ve ordered another incredibly expensive and poorly-crafted drink. We’re paying for the view and the calm.

Worth every penny.

Hudson Hotel
356 West 58th St.
New York
212-554-6000
www.hudsonhotel.com

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

I was late for an interview at Fort Defiance.

I took the subway. I took a bus. I ran.

I was also hungry.

While I was running, I passed the Brooklyn Ice House and it was about that time when I smelled the barbecue.

The owner was sitting on a bench out front with some friends and I asked if I could get a quick pulled pork sandwich. Truthfully, the three of them looked so relaxed and friendly, I just wanted to sit with them for an hour.

The owner brought me inside - fantastic and saloon-like, a bar and a place to hang out. I watched a father and daughter sitting at in the corner, playing Rock’Em Sock’Em Robots.

My favorite part? At a serious beer bar, I asked what the owner would recommend to go with my sandwich.

“PBR”

Pabst Blue Ribbon.

She could have said something that cost twice as much -- and I would have enjoyed it -- but for a guy who’s running late and might not have a ton of time to appreciate what he’s eating, she stuck with something good. And cheap. My whole mini-meal cost $7. Woohoo!

Good thing she didn’t ask me to marry her.

Brooklyn Ice House
318 Van Brunt St.
Brooklyn
718-222 1865

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

“The Shake Shack?” asked a friend, “That place is a gimmick.”

I brought another friend when I went. We had burgers for breakfast.

That might be a bit of a stretch, but not by too much. We got there at around 11. On a nice day, the Shack has a line that stretches clear across Madison Square Park. I have no idea how long you’d have to wait, but I’ve got no desire to find out.

We ordered two cheeseburgers and two black and whites and, feeling generous, I told my pal I’d pick up the tab.

“Twenty-three dollars,” said the woman at the register.

Ai-yeeee!

It’s still worth it as a special treat. Plus, it’s a good burger and I had struck out looking for really good burgers on a recent trip to the Pacific Northwest. It’s not perfect, but there’s a friend, a seat in the park, and a happy mouthful.

Shake Shack
Madison Square Park (not to be confused with the faraway Madison Square Garden)

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

Almost 75 years since Richard Halliburton swam the Panama Canal for a 38-cent toll, the world wonder remains a rite of passage with a difference: Instead of a waypoint to somewhere else, Panama’s capital city teems with fascinations, as I discovered when the captain announced our canal transit was delayed.

Nothing prepared me for the high density and intensity of the city, likened by realtors to Miami’s South Beach without the attitude problem or the next Hong Kong. Gone, the gun-toting G.l.s of yesteryear. Phrases like “ex-pat revolution” and “retirement economy” pepper casual conversations. Amador, the staging area for yachts entering the canal’s Pacific side, is a trendy address of boutique bars and eateries, whose palm-lined promenade was built with 18 million yards of canal-excavated rock.

Downtown, 100-story condos compete for airspace on a waterfront so hemispherical, it bends like a scene in a fisheye lens.

Some of my favorite things from a too-short stay:

*Friendly, inexpensive taxis. $3 takes you anywhere. Almost every driver is a willing guide.

*Ceviche at the fish market. The freshest fish, octopus, shrimp, and squid, marinated in lemon juice, served take out or in the upstairs restaurant of Mercado de Mariscos, a lively fish market at Avenida Balboa and Calle 15 Este, Calidonia. An equally amazing fruit and vegetable market, Mercado Público, is next door.

America's marketing kings appear to believe that we just can't get enough of cougars. Television, for instance, is chock full. Saturday Night Live has a regularly running bit called "The Cougar Den'' about a fictional talk show, hosted by a group middle-aged women on the prowl; last spring TV Land brought us the reality show "The Cougar''; and this season we get ABC's "Cougar Town,'' and CBS's "Accidentally on Purpose.''

Now, Carnival Cruises, Singles Travel Company, and Society of Single Professionals bring you the first International Cougar Cruise on Dec. 4-7, departing from San Diego and headed to Ensenada, Mexico. The voyage will take place aboard Carnival’s Fun Ship Elation, and rates begin at $125 per person, double-occupancy, plus port charges and government fees.

Besides all the regular shipboard amenities, passengers who sign up through the Single Travel Company will get invitations to a series of shipboard parties. And the guest of honor will be Miss Cougar America, Gloria Navarro, 42, of Redwood City, Calif.
Here's to you, coo, coo, ca-choo.

Want dining as entertainment, all the show you’ll need is on display at Buddakan. The place was officially outed by “Sex and The City” and now (fortunately? unfortunately?) is full of mini Carrie Bradshaws. I’m not a fan of this form of pomp, yet I ate it up; it’s impossible to stand at the top of the stairway and not look slack-jawed down into the main dining room.

For its part, the food is up to the task. Buddakan is the East Coast cousin of Betelnut – the San Francisco restaurant where I once worked as a cook – high end Asian fusion that’s very well thought out like long beans with shrimp and soy and a rather exquisite Peking duck salad served French style with frisée and a poached egg.

There are a few cracks showing, a pricey martini arrives miraculously quickly from the packed bar yet it’s barely cold, and I’ll leave more than half of it on the table at the end of the night.

Later, our astute waiter asks how we liked our appetizers.

Me: I really liked the duck.

Him: Yes, the duck salad is really good.

We both ignored talking about the short ribs.

These are quibbles. We were here for the show and got it in spades – Carrie might have to elbow her way back in, but she won’t be disappointed. Dinner also turned out to be rather reasonably priced for a special treat kind of place – about $50 per person with drinks and a doggy bag full of lunch for the next day.

Buddakan
75 9th Ave, New York, NY‎
212-989-6699‎

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

Lots of little things going on Chez Ramulaud.

What I love about Paris is that I lived on and off for a year near a place this good and never knew it was there. Then again, I lived even closer to the Bistrot Paul Bert, which got all the little things right and costs the same; Ramulaud is more of a mixed bag.

Walk in and there’s a funny feeling like the place has both been there for a while and that they’ve just moved in because the walls are too white and the lights too bright. Appetizers are good ideas that just miss the mark – a tartare of veal, gambas, and avocados has lots of fun texture but wades in mayonnaise. "Chips'' of pigs’ feet and ears sound fantastic if you’re into that sort of thing, but this thin, they just taste greasy. Vegetable preparations are well thought-out yet the raw products seem like they’re from the cheap grocery store down the street.

From here on out, however, the problems are erased. Sautéed slices of andouillette atop a salad are crowned with a poached egg. There’s great play between the offal, the mustard-y vinaigrette and hidden lardons and lightly caramelized red onions. Lamb chops are dredged in Parmesan and pink on the inside. A beautiful Fleurie dispatches doubts about Beaujolais.
Dessert sums it up: a chocolate cake drools salted caramel, the underside just slightly (and wonderfully) scorched; my companion starts moaning with pleasure.

Meanwhile, I can’t figure out why the top of my otherwise tasty crème brulée isn’t scorched enough. At the next table, someone has ordered a skimpy-looking Paris-Brest, Paul Bert’s incredible signature dessert.

I enjoyed the meal more than it sounds but can’t think of a better way to remind customers of the better place to eat.

Chez Ramulaud
269 rue Faubourg St Antoine
75011 PARIS
011 33 (0)1 43 72 23 29

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

I recently moved to a neighborhood where I don’t know where to eat … disconcerting for a food writer.

At the end of a rainy Monday in the center of town, both places I wanted to go for steak frites were closed. I retreated to my neighborhood, dragging my friend behind me and getting to the point where we couldn’t make a decision.

We circled two places, exhausted and not really caring anymore, finally settling on a place that seemed pretty but expensive (Belleville’s Le Zephyr, for the curious). We sat and picked out our steaks and I did the math; it was going to cost 80 euros for a meal we really didn’t care about.

I looked across the table and said: “Chinese takeout and cheap beer?”

We got up immediately.

Best decision of the week.

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

In response to competition for business customers, Delta says it will add business-class seats that recline almost flat on flights from New York to Los Angeles and San Francisco and that it has already added such seats in business class on New York-London flights.

Both United and Virgin America already offer lie-flat seats on some transcontinental routes in business class. United also has these on many international flights.

"Delta's frequent business travelers tell us that the comfort of a flat bed seat with direct aisle access is a must-have on flights to and from London, and that a true BusinessElite experience is critical when flying to and from the West Coast," Ranjan Goswami, Delta's director of customer experience, said in a press release.

Delta already offered business travelers full-flat seats on flights between Atlanta and Detroit and London-Heathrow, as well as some other international flights out of Atlanta, Delta's home base.

Le Fumoir is a melting pot for the mid-level hoi polloi. At any given point, you might bump into the waitress who couldn’t care less, the impeccably-dressed writer who’s actually getting something done, the maître d’ who says "I am a snob'' simply in the way he adjusts the blinds, smiling bartenders, tourists who realized they’ve lucked into a good find, and a woman who’s got a good 25 years on her lover, both looking happy as clams. (I’ve recently learned that her breed is known as a cougar – more power to her.)

There are lots of nonclient quirks for better and for worse: a Costes-brothers-of-the-1950s style space with big, beautiful lacquered bathrooms, paired with a vaguely Asian menu theme. And maté. Surprisingly good maté, served in a big gourd with a bombilla and a big iron teapot of hot water.

Most places have a clientele you can lump into a group, but here in the middle of town, a stone’s throw from the Louvre’s Cour Carré, it’s what the French would call Le Melting Pot.

It shoudn’t stick.

It sticks.

Pass the maté.

Le Fumoir
6 Rue de l'Amiral de Coligny
Paris
011 33 (0)1 42 92 00 24

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

PARIS – Grey day. The kind that makes you wear extravagant clothing in hopes they’ll create a break in the clouds. Parisians, a thin-blooded lot who put on cold-weather clothing at the drop of a hat, use days like this to break out their scarves and winter coats while the rest of us are fine in a long-sleeved shirt.

If you go out on a day like this, you tend not to stray too far. I rode my bike to meet a friend for lunch at pizzeria Maria Luisa behind the Canal Saint Martin, an area larded with good neighborhood restaurants.

It poured once we were inside, but it didn’t matter. The pizza (red sauce, mozz, anchovy) chased clouds and when I took a spin around the restaurant floor, all the different pies looked just as good. A kid at the table next to us got a kid-sized pizza and I’m pretty sure I didn’t see that on the menu. Nice touch.

Nitpicks: my crust could have been done underneath a bit more, my friend’s salad came with a ricotta that, curiously and distractingly, was slightly sweet. Avoid or refuse the table shoehorned into a dead space by the bathroom.

But these are little things. Using my Sicilian scale, this would have been a very respectable Pizza Sette, on a Parisian scale, however, Pizza Neuf.

Maria Luisa – Pizzeria Napoletana
2 rue Marie et Louise
75010 Paris
011 33 1 44 84 04 04

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Get ‘em while they’re hot – if not exactly cheap: Booking now at a new resort, Scrub Island Resort in the British Virgin Islands and which is still under construction, will save you some serious coin when the upscale resort opens Jan. 3.
Scrub Island, a free five-minute ferry ride from Trellis Island on Tortola for guests, and just across from Little and Great Camanoe islands, offers early-booking rates of $450-$1,175 per night for ocean-view rooms and suites, and up to $2,500 per night for very private hillside villas dotting the hills away from the resort proper. Booking must be made by Aug. 31 for travel dates of Jan. 3 through April 30. After that, rates shoot up: $650 and up for rooms, and upwards of $4,000 per night for villas.
The resort, which will have 26 guest rooms and 26 one- and two-bedroom suites, as well as a 31 two- to five-bedroom villas at build out in September of next year, sprawls over 230 previously undeveloped acres; legend has it pirates found it easy to put in here and scrub their boat hulls clean, hence the name. The island had been home to Donovan’s Reef for several years, a tiny bar/restaurant run by the McManus family of Pennsylvania, named for the patriarch’s favorite John Wayne movie.
If you’ve got the cash, it may be worth it – once completed. The resort in mid-July had a lot of work yet to be done, but the developers, Mainsail Development of Tampa promised all the main rooms and suites, and some of the villas, not to mention a complex of four restaurants, four white-sand beaches and 60 deep-water slips, some capable of berthing boats up to 150-feet long, will be good to go.
Scrub Island consists of two large chunks of land connected by a thin strip of land, with the smaller part housing the resort proper. The other piece, Big Scrub, as it’s called, is open for private ownership with 50 house lots permitted from 1.5 to 7 acres.
It would seem to be a huge leap of faith in a faltering economy, but Mainsail president Joe Collier said the wheels had been in motion since 2003, long before the economy tanked. He said sales have been brisk and interest strong in the resort, which tourism officials said is the first major development in the entire BVI in at least 15 years. Reportedly, $150 million has been invested in the resort.
Amenities include the usual found in an upscale resort, full-service spa and fitness center, shops, lagoon pool with waterfalls and swim-up bar, dive shop, boat rentals, fishing, scuba and snorkeling charters, motorized water sports, and exquisitely appointed rooms. Suites have Wolf ranges and hoods, SubZero refrigerators, stone flooring and wood-beamed ceilings.
And they include the not-so-usual: Go anywhere on the island with your guest-room phone and feel the need for a burger and beer where you sit looking over the Atlantic Ocean on one side or the Caribbean Sea on the other, and they’ll find you there, even if you don’t know where there is: Phones come equipped with GPS tracking systems.
Another unusual feature, according to general manager William Lee: Cameras mounted on some nesting boxes of the island’s various birds of prey will broadcast to guest rooms, so you can keep an eye on what they’re having for dinner as you have yours.

Posted by Paul E. Kandarian, Globe correspondent

Photo of the view from veranda of a suite on Scrub Island for The Boston Globe by Paul E. Kandarian

I love a good place hidden in plain sight. I’d walked by La Fresque, smack in the center of Les Halles, 100 times before a neighborhood friend proposed dinner there a few years back. I still remember trying ostrich steak for the first time – a perfect presentation to get you over the hump and make you want to try it again because you like it. I also liked the idea of everyone walking by, oblivious to a good find.

A little while ago, we went back for lunch and a 14-euro menu included a light pumpkin flan with a curry cream sauce and a decent steak. My friend, a stickler for a good chevre chaud salad, wasn’t doing cartwheels, but pronounced herself satisfied.

More than that, I liked sitting under the big awning, protected from the rain and watching the world go by.

La Fresque
100, rue Rambuteau
011 33 (0)1 42 33 17 56

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

ILE DE RE, France -- I’d trade a friend in a high place for one who knows where to eat.

Spend a bit of time on this island and you’ll inevitably end up at the Café du Commerce in Ars en Ré. It’s one of the few places open all year, a good place to socialize and renew your love for bric-a-brac, but I don’t remember a thing I’ve eaten there.

Visit a few times, however, and a friend might start bringing you to their favorite places.
Olivier and Moumoune (his ‘Mama’) brought me out to Aux Frères de la Côte which sits on a seawall – la digue – at the end of the road in Ars en Ré. If I’m going to splurge and get a plate full of seafood or a dish of oysters, the edge of the sea is where I want them.

Service is flighty but friendly, wine is chilled in a plastic beach bucket and the fries on the neighboring table look so good, we order a plate for ourselves.

Star of the meal? Tiny, plump clams known as palourdes, served raw in their unopened shell; it’s up to you to liberate them with a knife and their sweet, briny and fresh flavor are worth the trip.

Count on 20-40€.

Aux Frères de la Côte
Route de La Grange
Ars en Ré
011 33 (0)5 46 29 04 54
Warm months only.

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

Take a walk through La Boqueria food market and you can’t help but get the feeling that Barcelona should be a sushi-lover’s paradise, yet I never found proof. I’ve had good Asian at Ly Leap’s Indochine restaurants and Ferran Adria apparently swears by Shunka, but still, no sushi for me.

Then I went to Ken Restaurante – bristling with sushi potential – and nobody ordered sushi.
A plate of tasty noodles came out, adorned with ultrathin feathers of dried, smoked tuna that fluttered in the heat, and there were tasty (though heavy) shrimp and veg tempuras, but nothing to write home about.

Ken came out to say hello to the family I was with and perhaps he saw the sadness in my eyes, because after that the raw and the beautiful started appearing.

A set of breaded cherry tomatoes appeared which were cored and gently stuffed with salmon eggs then flash fried and served with a delicious, mayonnaise-y secret sauce. A bite is sweet and salty, crisp and bursting. Pop a few of these and down them with a glass of Cava at the beginning of a date and your sweetie will be putty in your hands for the rest of the evening.
The dessert menu came and I panicked. I looked frantically around the table for support and found a taker in the patriarch. I don’t think he was hungry, it was probably just foodie pity. I didn’t care.

“Sushi plate please!” I said to a perplexed waitress.

Know that sound Homer Simpson makes while drooling over a bowl of chili? Nnnghhhh!!! That was me.

Each piece had its own, distinct flavor and firm texture, including a tuna belly reminiscent of the other night at Inopia.

Sushi in Barcelona? I knew I’d find it.

Ken Restaurante MAP
C/ Benet Mateu 53
011 34 932 032 044

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Amid a general travel industry slump, Vacationoutlet.com is springing a one-day sale on a five-night cruise departing Oct. 22 from Boston to Bermuda aboard Royal Caribbean's Jewel of the Seas.

What kinds of discounts? Interior rooms, formerly priced at $599, will be sold for $549; oceanviews will go for $649, down from $699; balcony accommodations for $799, instead of $879.

Actually, this deal gets even a bit better, as the travel website was already offering discounts of as much as $100, depending on the price level of the room. And, according to David Crooks, a company spokesman, those reductions can be used with the sale prices -- which means, say, in the case of a oceanview room, an additional $50 off the $649 sale price, bringing the fare down $599.

This sale started at midnight and will continue till midnight tonight. Crooks says there are also free upgrades available.

While the discounts are pretty good, this cruise represents an especially good deal for travelers in the area as they can board from here, avoiding airfares to your point of departure.

I've said it before but it remains true: If you can afford to travel this year there are some pretty good opportunities around.

Before revisiting this classic, I check directions and find an online guide to Barna that says I might be the only tourist in the place.

Fat chance. Two ladies in the back are flipping through a Time Out guide and above the bar, there’s a framed, two-page spread from the Wall Street Journal about Bar Tomas’ raison d’être: “Splendid Spuds: Spain’s Obsession with Patatas Bravas.”

No matter. For spuds this good, I’m willing to share.

Just remember the Two B’s: Bravas and Beer. Like seafood in Omaha, most of the rest of the offerings (save Coke and Fanta in glass bottles) can be ignored.

The spuds are downy on the inside, crisp on the outside and partially submerged under a blob of aioli from heaven and served by a guy whose voice sounds like a yard of rocks in a cement mixer.

Perfect.

Bar Tomás
C/ Major De Sarrià 49
08017 Barcelona
011 932 031 077

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

BARCELONA – Go to Inopia on any given night and despite the bright lights and bustle typical of many tapas bars, there’s also something a bit bizarre: a bouncer.

It’s a little weird, but though I’m sure there’s a bit of favoritism, the bouncer is mostly there to keep the inside full without drowning the chefs and waitstaff.

Then night we’re there, Tapas 24 and Comerç 24 chef Carles Abellan, along with a chunk of the local 7 Canibales food writers and we, the unwashed masses, are all waiting in line.

Inside, the lights glare and four of us sit on stools facing some sort of hen party, yet the Cava arrives and tickles our palates and a plate or two of food lands in front of us and is gobbled up – we take on our own momentum.

A cutting board of thin-sliced cooked ham appears and disappears, fried artichoke hearts cradle a quail’s egg and raw fish eggs.

This is before they bring out the big guns.

Lomo de atún a la parrilla con mojo should just be called "Kobe tuna.'' The mojo is lost in the shuffle, but the fish, wonderfully fatty, marbled and full of flavor has been grilled, making it smoky, meaty, carnal and crisp.

At dessert, the waiter sprays an anise liquor over a bowl of cherries. There’s a sweet and almost vegetable flavor of the spray, followed by the explosion of the taut cherry skin. The fruit’s sweet and acidic flavors compete for your attention as they fill your mouth and dribble down your chin.

RRRRRowwwww!!! No mas! No mas!!!!

Count on 10-15 euros if you're feeling peckish and upwards of 40 if you're hungry and thirsty.

Inopia
www.barinopia.com
C/Tamarit 104
08015 Barcelona
011 34 934 245 231

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

CEFALÙ, Sicily – Baseball wisdom advises against swinging at the first pitch. See what they’ve got, and work the pitcher for something you can turn into a hit.

Driving into Cefalù, I had a restaurant I’d tried before and a couple new recommendations on where to eat written on a scrap of paper in my pocket. It was also Time To Eat, and pulling into the back side of town, we saw a roadside tavola calda (think buffet, but good) with a nice deck, sun and shade, ficus and palms.

God knows how much time I’ve wasted tracking down a lead or looking for that next good spot when a place like this presented itself, but here, I didn’t even ask – I just pulled into a parking spot. It didn’t look like much on the inside, but that didn’t matter on the deck, where, once you had ordered, runners in gas-station style green and blue jumpsuits and white caps hustled orders out to the tables.

Everything was tasty – a seafood and vegetable salad, great roast potatoes with rosemary goodness and good, local-style arancini – stuffed and breaded rice balls that make a quick meal on their own. "Local-style" apparently means that they don’t have a red sauce in with the filling, and mom asks me to get some.

My Italian can be painfully bad, but despite a passable attempt for the desired sugo, the waiter looks at me with the blankest of faces.I re-explain, stressing the maternal need and appealing to his inner momma’s boy. He sweetly replies that though they don’t do it like that in these parts, he’ll get some.

Long enough time elapses to think he’s forgotten, but right when we’re wrapping up, he reappears with a piping hot, custom-made arancini in his hands.

“For mamma,” he says. “A regalo.”

A gift.

A home run.

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

Paris is good to my comings and goings – little things to welcome me back or make me miss her when I go.

Before heading out for the summer, I bumped into Fred Valade in the northern reaches of Belleville while looking for my last lunch in Paris and asked where to get a good steak tartare in the neighborhood. He gave me a "no-can-do'' shrug and instead pointed me toward the new divin restaurant – a shiny, new and unfettered by capital letters.

The concept isn’t new, but there’s nothing to be tired of: a product-centric menu that cleverly goes easy on the chef at service time and a host of good organic and natural production wines. The restaurant is run by a pair of brothers, but divin is a direct cousin of the likes of La Crèmerie and Le Verre Volé; the more the merrier for this kind of place.

I had a thick slab of chunky pâté, full of deep, meaty and wonderfully liver-y flavor, all protected by a snow-white layer of fat and served with big, plump capers and good bread.
I washed it down with a (well-recommended) Côtes du Rhône, smacked my lips, and headed to the airport with a smile.

divin
35 rue des Annelets
75019 Paris
011 33 1 40 40 79 41

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo of organic and natural production wines at the Crus et Decouvertes wine shop in the 11th by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

PALERMO - Dad can be very good at bonding with the locals. His eyes might glaze over with a museum guide or, say, me when I get going about food, but give him someone salty in a tweed cap or a tour bus driver and in five minutes, they’ll be sharing a bag of sunflower seeds with Dad telling the joke about the drunk twins from the County Cork.

In Palermo, this happens with Sicily guide Jean-Paul Barreaud, the man who introduced me to pastry chef and gelato god, Santi Pallazzolo, and spoke my favorite Motherland quote: “Sicilians eat like ogres.”

Their bonding subject was instant: Palermo traffic.

“I like your car Jean-Paul, are those claw marks on the bumper?” asked Dad.

“The only pedestrians with untouchable rights are pregnant women,” replied Barreaud, not skipping a beat. “Everyone else is fair game.”

I couldn’t tell if Dad, a true road warrior, was terrified or agog in admiration for the Palermitans, but I can say that he never took the wheel and after returning home, he wrote a lengthy e-mail thanking me for driving.

Barreaud brought us to U Zù Caliddu, a former smuggler’s safe house in the hills above Palermo run by a sprawling family that includes a grandmother in the kitchen and a four year old playing soccer in a Spider Man costume in the dining room.

There’s a 15-euro fixed-price menu that could put even the hungriest ogre under the table, but it’s also a great way to get a handle on family-style Sicilian. The antipasto includes great examples of the sweet and sour caponata, roasted ricotta and a pizza cousin called ''old man’s face'' – a square and thick pie with a cheese-laden red sauce that Dad promptly got all over his shirt.

Seemingly from nowhere, the guide pulled out a bottle of miracle stain cleaner that he sprays on Dad’s shirt
.
Barreaud looks at me and smiles, “He’s becoming Italian!”

U Zù Caliddu
C/ del Piano dell’ochio
Torretta (PA)
011 091 8983913

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

PALERMO – Mom and Dad are gone and I have Palermo to myself for the morning. I walk behind the Teatro Massimo in the city center, find a bakery where fresh, hot, ricotta-laden pastries come out of the back room just as I enter.

Sold.

Outside, a helicopter whoops mysteriously. I down my coffee and head outside with breakfast to see what the fuss is about.

The theater has moved outdoors.

“You can’t stand there,” says someone who I’ll later realize is a plainclothes police officer.
Twenty-odd mobsters have been rounded up and, one by one, under cover of the helicopter and an impressive line of carabinieri cars, they are escorted out of a special police station, down a set of stairs and into a waiting car.

Wives and grandmothers dissolve into tears and collapse to the sidewalk. News crews and families are pushed around. Tragedy! Comedy! Italians have a particular capacity for making the serious look ridiculous.

Some of the cons come out of the door and pause at the top of the stairs with a look of dread. Newbies. Others grin and give a handcuffed wave with a look that says, "Don’t worry honey, I’ll be outta the clink in a couple of days.''

One guy has a plastic bag that looks like it’s stuffed with a three-day supply of pasta and cannoli.

I pop the last bite of pastry, take a nervous picture of the chaos and wander toward my gelato.
Da Carlo is as fantastic as ever. I have scoops of yogurt and cantaloupe gelato in a brioche capped by a beautifully not-too-sweet whipped cream.

Later, I wash it down with a standup coffee at Caffé del Moro where the barista blurs the line between man and machine.

Without looking, he flips a clean espresso cup from the top of machine to his other hand, waiting for it next to the portafilter. Steam rises from the used grounds in the knockbox.
I ask if I can make a photo and while his machine gurgles, he sizes me up with a look that says, "Why bother?'' combined with "I don’t care.''

“Fa,” comes the response. Do it.

I’ll miss this city.

Caffé del Moro
Via Giovanni Da Procida, 3
Palermo

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe

As reliable as sunrise, pilgrims making their way to Santiago de Compostela line the roads of northern Spain in the morning. For one thing, most pilgrimage hostels make them leave by 8 a.m., which is only shortly after dawn. On an early morning run ourselves, we stopped in a roadside bar for a bite, only to find it filled with cheery walkers exchanging tips on backpacks and pack frames and comparing footwear. They represented half a dozen countries among them, yet the lingua franca was not French or (more appropriately) Spanish, but English — as spoken on TV and in the movies. Come se dice "blister?''

Posted by Patricia Harris, Globe Correspondent

Photo by Patricia Harris for the Boston Globe

PARIS – It’s perplexing when a new favorite doesn’t live up to what you remember.
A few months ago, I went to F.S. favorite Au Bascou and had a transcendent dish that, when I looked at the price -- a bit more than what I’m used to paying with mains in the low to mid twenty euro range -- still said ‘'well worth it.'’ I knew I’d go back.

Tonight, on my return, I thought of the restaurant as a place that out of town guests would never find on a first trip to Paris and it was…good.

Scallops tasted like scallops. Pigeon like pigeon. Cooking temperatures were perfect, yet nothing was lifted to that happy level where what’s in your mouth becomes more interesting what you’re talking about.

Fittingly, a thirty-odd euro Corbières was never mentioned as good or bad. The service was as slightly understaffed and flighty as ever – nothing to complain about at a corner café, but here, it feels like you’re paying for a bit more and not quite getting it.
I want to like this place as much as I did before. I want my meal to interrupt.

Au Bascou
38, rue Réaumur,
75003 Paris
011 33 1 42 72 69 25

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Globe travel correspondent Joe Ray writes his own blog, Eating The Motherland and contributes to the English language version of Simon Says! the French food and lifestyle blog run by French food critic Francois Simon.

Photo by Joe Ray for The Boston Globe