Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published July 4, 2007 Memorable Dining On The Road A bunch of years ago, our family was on an extended driving trip through the Southwest. This particular day, we departed Carlsbad Caverns after a very long morning of exploration. Our son Jude--who was eight years old at the times--made the forty-five minute walk through the entire cavern three times. Instead of taking the elevator out, we decided to walk up (and I do mean up) the trail to the surface. So when we finally hit the road we were fairly knocked out. The kids fell asleep for hours. We knew they'd wake up hungry, and that this would be a problem, because by my calculations we would pull into Van Horn, Texas when this happened. Van Horn is the only town of any significance for a long way in any direction. Having spent the night there a couple of times, I knew that the only places to eat were a nasty truck stop with an oil derrick towering above it, and a pretty good barbecue shack called the Smokehouse. Neither would cut it for my kids. In the event, as we drove down the main drag, the whining rose in volume and pitch as the children scanned the bleak scene for sustenance. Then Jude's voice rang out, "Praise God! A McDonald's!" There it was, brand new, right at the western terminus of US 90. Salvation was found for the kids' hunger, and for the adults' sanity. This story is my least favorite tale of food on the road from a gustatory standpoint. Finding relief--let alone joy--in a McDonald's is the antithesis of an effective strategy for dining while traveling. I disdain it even though I know well the unique pressures of traveling with children. Which is incompatible with great dining, and so forces one to sacrifice. The unified theory of getting the most from the food facet of your travels goes like this: Eat the food of the region. This may mean eating unfamiliar food. Which requires intestinal fortitude. Literally, in some cases. While the urge to be comfortable when we eat is strong, the whole reason for traveling is to discover worlds different from the one you live in the rest of the time. And the point of being a gourmet is to try new tastes. This is why there are so few gourmets, and so many chain restaurants. People get away from their normal lives, only to find it all over again on the road. And they wonder why, when they return from their vacations, it seems that they just read about it in a book. When I was in my twenties, I took many driving trips around the country, always on back roads and old US routes in preference to interstates. After the first one, though, I felt let down by the experience. I felt that most of the time I spent on the road amounted to just miles and hours passing by.  When I thought about it, it occurred to me that this was directly due to my eating mostly in chain restaurants. Because the high points of the trip were the times I did wander into a local joint. I still remember all those places with pleasure--even the terrible ones. (Many places found their dining options improved when McDonald's or Shoney's or Denny's opened shop.) For example, I recall vividly a breakfast I had somewhere on US 11 north of Knoxville. It featured bulletproof ham, unappetizing red-eye gravy, hard, dry biscuits and see-through coffee, in rough-wood surroundings mounted with rusty guns and moldy taxidermy. The memory of that bad breakfast is more amusing and detailed than that of the best standard hotel breakfast I ever ate--wherever that was. So, when I set out for my second odyssey, I pledged not to set foot in a chain restaurant. Not even to get a Dr Pepper or to use the bathroom. I'd wait until I found a one-of-a-kind café, or even a dumpy little gas station. It has brought me dozens of delicious, peculiar, and otherwise distinctive meals that always enhance my travels. And I recommend that approach to you. Unless you have kids. Which is another story. © 2007 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com