by Betsy Andrews
I enjoyed the most amazing French Creole island feast at Mango Bay restaurant in the harbor in Fort-de-France, Martinique, a stop for the cruising yacht Wind Surf: stuffed crab, spicy salt cod and salt cod fritters, soft and savory boudin noir, spiny lobster tail in a tangy sour orange sauce with peas and fava beans, and an incomparable bowl of moules a la creme, with steak fries and aioli. Good stuff. The only hitch: I left 20 gorgeous, aromatic vanilla beans, purchased at the town market, in the bathroom at the restaurant, went back for them, and they were gone. I am mourning them now, my dreams of making the world's most fragrant creme brûlée dashed. -Betsy AndrewsLe Mango Bay
Boulevard Allègre Port de Plaisance
Le Marin, Martinique 97290
tel: +596/746-089
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One of the juiciest roast chickens we've ever eaten is served at 
At Lafayette, Louisiana's most vibrant restaurant, 
In 2008 Linda Anctil, a private chef and caterer in Connecticut, asked herself this question: "What if I could cook whatever I wanted?" Over the past five years she has documented the answers to that question on her food blog, 
A sprawling landscape of stalls and carts in the center of Santiago, Chile, La Vega Central Market vibrates with the brilliance of the country's agricultural bounty: fat yellow onions stuffed in mesh sacks, comically gigantic ears of corn, squash in every shape and hue; persimmons, custard apples, and other fragrant fruits; wild potatoes from Chile's Chiloé Island ranging in color from pale yellow to saturated scarlet and a purple that verges on black. At lunchtime the place fills with office workers and laborers and indigenous people in colorful garb eating steaming bowls of cazuela, chicken stew; sopaipillas, quick breads made with pumpkin; and tamale-like humitas. It is the best place in the country to get to know the universe of Chilean food-and to fall in love with it.
Danes are crazy about their hot dogs. On nearly every Copenhagen corner, a pølsevogn, or hot dog wagon, offers more than a dozen varieties. The knockout ristet hot dog, accented with sweet spices, gets tucked in a bun loaded with pickles, raw and crispy fried onions, and a delectable rémoulade; the medister is a sausage spiced with cloves and allspice; and the fransk, or French hot dog, makes ingenious use of a baguette-like roll, the bread hollowed out and used as an edible sleeve for the footlong frank. They always beckon as we stroll through the city, even if we've just eaten one a few blocks before.
When a craving for pasta hits, no run-of-the-mill red sauce will do-we want bold, flavorful dishes that are both soothing and dynamic, rustic yet inventive. It's a tall order, one that is always filled at 
As an ex-Quebecer living in New York City, I couldn't believe my ears when I heard that a Montreal-style delicatessen would be opening here of all places, the North American mecca for corned beef and pastrami. It takes a lot of chutzpah for a Canadian to introduce, and attempt to convert, devotees of the iconic New York deli sandwich to the comparatively obscure "smoked meat," a Montreal Jewish specialty of brisket that's been smoked, cured, and blanketed in a crunchy rub of salt and spice, then steamed, hand-sliced, and shingled onto mustard-moistened rye. It's a cross between corned beef and pastrami, and, at its best, is better than both. 
In Honduras, baleadas are thick, wonderful, fresh wheat-flour tortillas folded over refried beans, crema, a sprinkling of funky queso duro, and, if you like, scrambled eggs or shredded chicken, chorizo or grilled beef, pickled vegetables or avocado. Baleadas are sold in markets and restaurants, cooked roadside over open fires, and eaten at all times of day. It's the best type of snack: casual, enjoyable, and endlessly adaptive.
