The Paradox of Travel

Good food is a reason to visit Belgium. With the U.S. dollar in decline we’ve been eating in brasseries rather than two-star restaurants, but there have been some memorable meals during our stay in Ghent. The service at the Pakhuis was somewhat perfunctory, but the pig’s knuckle took me back to the taverns of my youth in Montreal, and the setting–a converted warehouse–was interesting. The Café Théatre, next to the opera house on the Kouter, is an elegant place whose  daily lunch special is a bargain.  They  served the best frieten of our trip—no small thing for French fries are the national dish,

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Bon Appétit

My wife is a Québecoise, and when we sit down at the table we always say “Bon appétit.” When I visit Germany it’s “Guten Appetit,” and in Italy, “Buon appetito.” Omniglot.com lists similar expressions in scores of languages, including Kazakh, Korean and Klingon, but observes that “There is no exact English equivalent.”  The most I’ve heard said before a meal in English is grace. My parents were observant Roman Catholics but we never said  grace, and the only time I remember grace was the year I spent in a Jesuit boarding school. According to the OED, the custom of saying grace (usually in Latin) was adapted by the early Christians from the Greeks,

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