Tasting Europe

Blog

  • I Took European Wine Vacations. Here’s What Felt Real.

    I’ve done three wine trips in Europe. I paid for them myself. I lugged bags up stone steps. I stained a pair of white sneakers with red dust. I also had some of the best meals of my life. So, was it worth it? Short answer: yes. But the story matters.

    I actually turned the whole saga into a deeper travelogue—you can skim the full diary of my European wine vacations if you crave more detail between the sips.

    Let me explain.

    The quick pour

    • Best for views: Douro Valley, Portugal
    • Best for food + wine together: Tuscany, Italy
    • Best for value + cool cellars: Rioja, Spain
    • Easiest day trip: Champagne from Paris
    • Most dreamy river bends: Mosel, Germany

    I’ll share what I loved, what bugged me, what I paid, and a few tiny mistakes I made so you don’t repeat them. Like wearing slick sandals on wet cellar stairs. Don’t do that.

    Trip 1: Douro Valley, Portugal — golden hills and slow boats

    I went in late May. Warm sun. Long days. We stayed near Pinhão at a small guesthouse, tucked among the Douro wine villages. I woke to the sound of roosters and the smell of toast. The hills looked like folded velvet.

    • Tastings: Quinta do Crasto had a patio view that felt unreal. We sipped Touriga Nacional and watched a tiny train snake along the river. At Quinta do Seixo (the Sandeman one), the tour was slick, but the view still stole my breath.
    • Food: I liked the grilled sardines at a no-frills spot by the station. Simple, salty, perfect with white port tonic.
    • Getting around: We took the train from Porto to Pinhão on a Saturday. It was slow, cheap, and scenic. We also did a short boat ride. I thought it would be cheesy. It wasn’t.

    What I loved

    • The terraces. They look hand-made because they are.
    • Ports tasted next to dry reds. It helped me “get” the region.

    What bugged me

    • Hills. I mean it. The inclines are no joke.
    • Some wineries needed cash for small fees. I had to hunt an ATM.

    What I paid (for two people, 2 nights)

    • Train from Porto: about 30–40 euros round trip
    • Room: 120 euros per night
    • Tastings: 15–30 euros per person
    • Boat ride: 10–20 euros per person

    Tiny tip: Book tastings by email a week ahead. Bring a hat. And call a taxi before dinner if you’re out of the town center. Drivers get busy at sunset.

    Trip 2: Tuscany, Italy — Chianti roads, big bowls of pasta, long naps

    I went in early October. Grapes were coming in. The air smelled like crushed fruit. We stayed near Gaiole in Chianti. The road was narrow and cute until a tour bus met us around a bend. My palms still remember.

    • Tastings: Antinori nel Chianti Classico felt like a museum inside a hill. The tasting was calm and well run. Castello di Brolio (Ricasoli) had a castle walk and views that made my camera go wild.
    • Food: A bowl of pappardelle with wild boar ragù near Radda. I still think about it when I’m stuck in a long meeting.
    • Side trip: We drove to Montalcino for Brunello. Biondi-Santi was booked solid, so we tried a smaller spot. Slower, kinder, and cheaper. No ego, just good wine.
    • Souvenir bottle: If you only take one home, consider this Italian standout I keep reaching for.

    What I loved

    • The way Sangiovese changes with each hill. It’s like cousins at a reunion. You see the family face, but each one talks different.
    • Long lunches that slide into naps.

    What bugged me

    • ZTL zones. Those city cameras will fine you if you drive in the wrong area. Siena got me once. Watch for red circles.
    • Many tasting rooms shut from 12:30 to 2:30. I learned the hard way. I ate gelato for lunch. Twice.

    What I paid (for two people, 3 nights)

    • Car from Florence: 45–70 euros per day (manual was cheaper)
    • Room: 140–180 euros per night
    • Tastings: 20–50 euros per person
    • Fuel + tolls: about 60 euros total

    Tiny tip: Set Google Maps offline. Use “Trenitalia” for city hops, then rent the car outside major centers. Bring coins for small parking lots.

    Trip 3: Rioja, Spain — cool cellars, warm people, fair prices

    We based in Haro last spring. Haro has a clutch of old bodegas in one walkable area. I loved that. No car needed within town. The vibe felt proud but friendly. If you’re curious how Rioja stacks up against the rest of the country, my road notes are collected in this honest take on tasting across Spanish wine regions.

    • Tastings: López de Heredia was my favorite. The cellars looked like a storybook, with cobwebs and old wood. Wines were calm and layered. Muga had a solid tour, and the rosé pour felt like a patio party. CVNE was polished but not stiff.
    • Food: Pinchos on Calle Laurel in Logroño. One bar, one bite, one glass. Move on. It’s like a food parade.

    What I loved

    • Value. A flight could be 12–18 euros and still feel generous.
    • Old plus new. You see tradition and tech living side by side.

    What bugged me

    • Sundays were sleepy. Some spots closed with little notice.
    • Late dinner hours. I got hungry at 6. Locals didn’t. I caved and ate chips once.

    What I paid (for two people, 2 nights)

    • Bus from Bilbao: about 20–30 euros round trip
    • Room: 90–130 euros per night
    • Tastings: 10–25 euros per person
    • Pinchos crawl: 2–3 euros per bite, 2–4 per glass

    Tiny tip: Book Heredia by email weeks ahead. Wear shoes with grip. Cellar stairs can be slick.

    Bonus sips

    • Champagne (Reims/Epernay): Easy day trip from Paris on SNCF. I toured Taittinger and Ruinart. Lots of chalk, cool temps, clean lines. Book far ahead. Bring a light sweater.
    • Mosel, Germany (Bernkastel/Wehlen): River bends like a ribbon. Riesling that smells like lime and slate. I visited Dr. Loosen for a quick tasting, then sat by the water with a pretzel. Simple joy.
    • Cava (Penedès, Spain): Bright citrus, gentle bubbles, and prices that feel like a hug. A train from Barcelona drops you near vineyards in under an hour, and this is the Spanish bubbly I keep reaching for.

    Back home, I lined up a flight of the highest-rated bottles—my notes live here if you want a cheat sheet before you shop.

    Planning notes I wish someone told me

    • Resource: For sample itineraries and dependable winery contact info, I like to skim TastingEurope before I lock anything in.
    • Bookings: Many places want an email or a form on their site. Some use Tock, but not many. Don’t assume walk-ins.
    • Season: May–June and September feel sweet. July can roast you. Harvest (Sept/Oct) is fun but busy; some places close for crush.
    • Getting around:
      • Portugal Douro: Train works; taxis are scarce at night.
      • Tuscany: You need a car. Manual cars are cheaper.
      • Rioja: Train or bus to Haro or Logroño; walk a lot.
      • Champagne: Train from Paris, then taxis or your feet.
      • Mosel: Car is handy; buses exist but run light on Sundays.
    • Money: Keep a small stash of cash for tiny fees or tips. Card works most places.
    • Food windows: Lunch is sacred. Expect closures mid-day. Plan snacks.
    • Packing: Neutral clothes hide wine drops. Bring a foldable tote for bottles and bubble wrap sleeves.
    • Myth busting: Wondering if European bottles mean fewer headaches? I tested the sulfite question over a week of tasting, and you can peek at the results [here](https://www.tastingeurope.com/do-e

  • I Thought German Wine Was All Sweet. I Was Wrong (And Happy About It)

    I used to side-eye German wine. I thought it was all sugar and headache. Then a friend poured me a glass, cold and sharp, and I paused mid-sip. Lime. Green apple. Wet stone. My mouth watered. You know what? I was hooked.
    If you’d like the full backstory on why so many of us assumed German wines were cloying, this deeper dive into the myth of dessert-only Riesling spells it out.

    Here’s the thing. German wine can be dry, sweet, or in-between. The labels can feel like a puzzle. (The German wine classification framework explains why.) But the juice? So good with food. And the prices can be kind.

    Bottles I Actually Drank And Liked

    I’m listing real bottles I paid for and poured at home. Some on the couch. Some at the table. A few with friends in the yard.

    • 2022 Dönnhoff Riesling Trocken (Nahe): Dry. Crisp. Peach and lemon peel. It tastes clean, with a little salt snap at the end. I had it with roast chicken and a buttered noodle side. We finished the bottle by accident.

    • 2021 Dr. Loosen “Blue Slate” Riesling Kabinett (Mosel): Light and zippy. Green apple, lime, and a little sweet kiss. Low alcohol, so I could actually have a second glass. Paired great with spicy pad thai and even better with leftover cold pizza.

    • NV Von Buhl Riesling Sekt Brut: Bubbly and bright. Tiny bubbles, green pear, and a chalky feel. I served it with grocery store fried chicken at a backyard birthday. People laughed, then grabbed seconds. Salty and crisp with fizz? Yes.

    • 2019 J.J. Prüm Wehlener Sonnenuhr Spätlese (Mosel): Fancy-feeling. Honey, apricot, and that “gas station” smell people whisper about in Riesling. It sounds weird, but it works. Day two was even better. I had it with spicy shrimp tacos. Magic.

    • 2020 Meyer-Näkel Spätburgunder (Ahr): Red wine alert. This is Pinot Noir. Light body, cherry, a little smoke, and a soft grip. I served it slightly cool with pan-fried salmon. My neighbor said, “Wait, this is German?”

    • 2021 Leitz “Dragonstone” Riesling (Rheingau): Off-dry, juicy peach, and easy. Weeknight takeout wine. We had it with sushi and a bag of seaweed snacks. No regrets.

    • 2022 Peter Lauer “Barrel X” Riesling (Mosel): Tart lime, slate, and a splashy feel. Porch sipper. I kept reaching back for the glass. It made even plain buttered popcorn taste fancy.

    What I Loved

    • Food love: These wines hug food. Spice, salt, fat—bring it on. Pork chops, schnitzel, ramen, tacos, sushi. They just work.
    • Bright acid: They’re fresh and lively. The kind that makes your mouth water and your plate look better.
    • Low alcohol: Many Rieslings sit around 8–12%. I can have a glass and still fold laundry. Or try to.
    • Sulfite peace of mind: For a no-jargon rundown on whether European wines really carry fewer sulfites (and what that means for headaches), here’s an honest, sniff-tested take after a week of tasting.
    • Value: You can find great bottles under $25. Some are under $15 and not sad at all.
    • Styles for moods: Dry (“trocken”) when I want crisp. Sweeter when I want cozy.

    What Bugged Me (A Bit)

    • Labels are tricky: Words like “trocken” (dry), “halbtrocken” (half-dry), and “feinherb” (kind of off-dry) can confuse. “Kabinett” is light. “Spätlese” is richer. But sweetness still varies. I had to learn by tasting.
    • That petrol note: I like it. My partner doesn’t. It shows more as the wine ages or warms up.
    • Temperature picky: Too cold, and the wine shuts down. Too warm, and it feels sweet and heavy. I aim for “cold but not freezing.”
    • Reds are hit-or-miss: Spätburgunder can be great, but it’s not cheap. Ahr wines are tasty, but harder to find.

    Little Moments That Sold Me

    I poured Von Buhl Sekt with a bucket of fried chicken and felt like a party genius. I took a Dr. Loosen Kabinett to a picnic with soft pretzels and mustard. The crunch, the salt, the sweet-tart zip—it all clicked. And one rainy night, I opened that J.J. Prüm, lit a candle, and ate shrimp tacos at the counter. I took it slow. That wine stretched the meal and the mood.

    If sipping in your kitchen sparks dreams of vineyard lanes and river views, this on-the-ground report of a European wine vacation captures what it really feels like between one tasting and the next.

    If you want even more pairing inspiration straight from the source, the regional recipe map at TastingEurope is a rabbit hole worth diving into.

    Need someone to clink glasses with? The revival of local classifieds means you can still meet nearby wine-curious strangers. A quick scroll through Craigslist personals alternatives will surface local meet-ups and shared-interest posts, making it easy to arrange a laid-back first pour with someone who actually wants to talk Riesling. Likewise, West Texas sippers can browse the revamped Backpage Big Spring board for low-key tasting invitations and pop-up bottle exchanges that might not show up anywhere else.

    Quick Guide, No Fuss

    • Want dry? Look for “trocken.”
    • Want light and refreshing? Kabinett is your friend.
    • Want richer and maybe sweeter? Spätlese.
    • Unsure? Check alcohol. Lower often means sweeter taste.
    • Classic regions: Mosel (slate and snap), Nahe (balanced), Rheingau (a bit broader), Pfalz (riper), Baden (good for Pinot Noir).
    • Bubbles? Grab a Riesling Sekt Brut. It’s a steal for the fun it brings.

    My Take, Bottom Line

    German wine surprised me. It’s bright, tasty, and so easy with food. Yes, the labels made my brain sweat at first. But the payoff is big. Start with a dry Nahe Riesling for dinner. Keep a Kabinett for spice night. Throw in a Sekt for movie snacks. You’ll find your lane fast.

    Would I buy again? I already did. And I’ve got a chilled bottle waiting.

  • I Spent 30 Days on European Wine Tours: What I Loved, What Fell Flat

    I took a month off and chased wine across Europe. Trains, little cars, slow boats, and a few sweaty hills. I paid for everything myself. No freebies. No sponsor. Just me, my notebook, and a tote full of corks that TSA did not love. For a blow-by-blow diary of every stop, my longer write-up lives here.

    Do you need to be a wine nerd? Not at all. I brought my curious nose and comfy shoes. That worked.

    Here’s what felt good, what didn’t, and a few spots that still live in my head, rent-free.

    For mapping routes and double-checking opening hours, I often dipped into TastingEurope, a one-stop guide to food-and-drink adventures across the continent.
    Two resources I kept bookmarked: the book Wine Trails: Europe – Lonely Planet Online Shop for day-dream-worthy itineraries, and this practical guide to Europe's best wine regions and their tours that breaks down logistics region by region.

    Bordeaux & Saint-Émilion: Gravel, Glam, and Very Good Bread

    I booked tours at Château Pape Clément and Château Smith Haut Lafitte. Both asked for reservations. The guide at Pape Clément said “gravel is our gold.” Let me explain—those stones keep vines warm at night. The Cab smelled like pencil shavings and blackcurrant. Nerdy? Yes. Tasty? Also yes.

    In Saint-Émilion, I loved Château La Dominique for the rooftop view over the vines. Red umbrellas. A breeze. I ate lunch at L'Envers du Décor. Duck, crusty bread, and a glass of Merlot that made me sigh. Tasting fees ran 20–40 euros. Worth it.

    What I didn’t love: the summer crowds in the old town. Also, many places won’t take walk-ins. I got turned away twice. My fault. Book ahead.

    Tuscany, Italy: Stone Roads and Big Smiles

    Antinori nel Chianti Classico feels like a museum built for wine. Clean lines. Cool tunnels. I touched a warm barrel and the guide laughed. Barrique is the word for the small oak barrel. It gives vanilla and spice. Simple as that.

    At Castello di Brolio, I walked the castle wall and looked at rows of Sangiovese. Later, I tried Bistecca alla Fiorentina in a tiny place that used a paper menu and a QR code. Funny mix, but it worked. In Montalcino, Podere Le Ripi poured Brunello that tasted like cherry, leather, and a slow afternoon. We talked about malolactic fermentation—the step that turns sharp acid into soft cream notes. Sounded fancy. Tasted cozy.

    The snag: driving those hills. Tight turns. Sun in your eyes. Bring a patient friend, or hire a driver. My day ran 50–80 euros per tasting with tour and snacks.

    Douro Valley, Portugal: River, Rails, and Tawny Dreams

    I rode the old Linha do Douro train to Pinhão. Window down. Hair wild. At Quinta do Bomfim, I sat on a terrace and tried a 20-year tawny. It smelled like dried fig and orange peel. A staffer said the schist soil breaks into layers and warms roots. I nodded and kept sipping.

    Quinta do Seixo had views that looked fake. Like a postcard. I took a short boat ride on a wooden rabelo after, just to feel the river do its slow thing. Tasting fees were 15–30 euros. Easy.

    Downside: heat. July felt like an oven. Steps were steep. Bring water. Wear shoes with grip. I learned the hard way.

    Rioja, Spain: Oak, Tapas, and Late-Night Laughs

    I stayed in Logroño and hopped to Haro for cellar visits. Bodegas Muga gave a kind, clear tour. López de Heredia felt like time travel. Cobwebs. Old barrels. Magic. At Marqués de Riscal, the Frank Gehry hotel looked like shiny ribbon candy. I didn’t stay there, but I stared.

    Quick guide the team gave me:

    • Crianza: shorter aging, bright fruit.
    • Reserva: longer aging, smoother edges.
    • Gran Reserva: long nap in oak and bottle, savory and calm.

    If you’re curious about how Rioja fits alongside other regions like Rías Baixas or Priorat, dive into my road-trip notes on tasting across Spanish wine regions.

    I ate pintxos on Calle Laurel. Mushroom skewers with garlic. A glass of Tempranillo that cost less than water in some places. I shipped a mixed case home for 75 euros. It arrived fine. I also blind-sampled some of the highest-scoring bottles on the peninsula—spoiler: many are worth tracking down—and you can skim that rundown here.

    Note: many wineries close on Sunday. Spain loves long lunches. Relax into it.

    Champagne, France: Chalk Caves and Tiny Bubbles

    Ruinart in Reims took me into chalk caves—the crayères. Cool air. Soft echo. The Blanc de Blancs tasted like green apple and chalk dust. In Epernay, I walked Avenue de Champagne and stopped at a small grower in Hautvillers who poured Extra Brut with a shy smile. Less sugar, more snap.

    Costs here were higher. 30–70 euros per tour and tasting. Still, sabrage at a neighboring table made us cheer. The cork flew. No one lost an eye. Win.

    Con: some places felt pushy on gift shop sets. I passed. No hard feelings.

    Alsace, France: Fairytale Streets, Laser-Focused Riesling

    I based in Ribeauvillé and biked to Riquewihr and Eguisheim. Half-timber houses. Stork nests. Tarte flambée with a dry Riesling at Trimbach. At Domaine Weinbach, a floral Muscat made me grin. It tasted like grapes, which sounds silly, but it was pure and bright.

    Small tip: Riesling here can be dry or sweet. Ask. I say “sec” for dry. If you forget, smile and point. It worked for me.

    Mosel, Germany: Slate, Loops, and Low ABV Joy

    I tasted at Dr. Loosen in Bernkastel. Peach notes. Slate zip. The river curved like a ribbon. I hiked near Bremmer Calmont and looked down at tiny boats and neat rows. Back at the tasting, they talked about the blue and red slate. Warm soil; quick drainage. Crisp wines.

    ABV sat around 8–10%. You can sip and still walk to dinner with a steady step. I spit sometimes too. It’s okay. The staff did as well.

    Santorini, Greece: Salt, Sun, and Basket Vines

    At Estate Argyros, I learned about Assyrtiko grown low to the ground in basket shapes. Kouloura. Wind stays out. Grapes stay safe. At Gaia, the tasting room sits by the sea. I could smell salt. The wine tasted like lemon, stone, and a tiny spark.

    Santo Wines at sunset was crowded. Still pretty. Go early if you can.

    Etna, Sicily: Lava Fields and Herbs in the Air

    I drove up past Zafferana Etnea and stopped for honey. Then Tenuta delle Terre Nere poured a mix of contrade wines—same grape, different slopes. Nerello Mascalese tasted like red berry and ash. My shoes had black dust by noon. The mountain changes fast. Sun, fog, breeze, then more sun.

    One weird moment: goats blocked the road. I waited. I laughed. It felt human.

    Provence & Bandol, France: Rosé With a Backbone

    Bandol reds surprised me. Dark fruit and thyme. At Domaine Tempier, I sat in the shade and tasted a rosé that could handle grilled fish, no sweat. In Cassis, I took a quick swim near the calanques and drank a white wine that tasted like fennel and sea spray.

    July is busy here. Prices jump. Book early or go May or September.

    Wachau, Austria: Stone, Apricot, Clean Lines

    Domäne Wachau poured Grüner Veltliner that snapped like a green bean. I ate apricot dumplings after a short hike above Dürnstein. River below. Quiet. The Riesling here is dry and focused. If you like neat notebooks and tidy kitchens, you may love these wines.

    The Good Stuff vs. The Gaps

    What I loved:

    • Guides who explained terroir without talking down.
    • Mix of big names and tiny family spots.
    • Simple food with spot-on pairings. Goat cheese with Sancerre; steak with Brunello; anchovies with Txakoli.

    What bugged me:

    • Heat waves. Afternoon tastings got rough. I switched to mornings.
    • Pushy gift shop bundles in a few places.
    • Appointment walls in Bordeaux. I get it, but it still stung.

  • I Ate My Way Through Rome’s Street Food: A First-Person Love Letter

    I walked Rome with greasy fingers and a happy heart. Cobblestones, church bells, and a warm paper sleeve in my hand—honestly, that’s my sweet spot. I skipped long meals most days and snacked my way around the city. You know what? It felt right. Curious eaters looking to dig even deeper can find authoritative insights on Rome’s street food scene on Visit Rome and in this curated guide from Eater. For the complete rundown of this grazing adventure, you can dip into my extended first-person love letter to Rome’s street food.

    First Stop, Always: Pizza al Taglio

    My first slice was at Pizzarium Bonci, near the Vatican. I took a number, waited, and pointed like a kid. They cut the pizza by weight, so you can try a little of this, a little of that. The potato and rosemary slice had a soft top and a crackly bottom. The mortadella with pistachio? Salty, nutty, a bit rich—but I still ate it on the curb and grinned.

    On another morning, I hit Forno Campo de’ Fiori. The red pizza (just tomato) was warm and bright. The white pizza had rosemary and salt. Simple. Cheap. I ate while standing, and the city felt awake.

    Crunch Time: Supplì That Stretch Like a Phone Line

    Supplizio on Via dei Banchi Vecchi gave me the supplì al telefono—the cheese pulls like a phone cord. The shell snapped, the rice stayed soft, and the sauce tasted deep. I also tried the cacio e pepe one. Peppery, cheesy, and a little wild. My napkin got oily. No shame.

    Another day, I grabbed a hot supplì from La Casa del Supplì in Trastevere. Pro tip: ask if it’s just been fried. If it sits too long, it goes limp and sad.

    Pocket Food That Hugs You Back: Trapizzino

    I’m not dramatic, but Trapizzino feels like a warm hug in bread form. It’s a soft, triangular pocket stuffed with real Roman dishes. My favorite was chicken cacciatora—herby and tender. The eggplant parm one dripped down my wrist, and I still licked my fingers. I found stands in Testaccio and Trastevere. The line moved fast, and people looked happy. That says a lot.

    Of course, wander a few hours south and the flavors shift completely—here’s my bite-by-bite account of Southern Italian food if curiosity (and hunger) strike.

    The Market Walk: Testaccio Feeds You Well

    At Mercato Testaccio, I went straight to Mordi e Vai. Their panino with slow-cooked beef and greens (cicoria) made my knees weak. The roll had bite; the beef melted. I stood next to two taxi drivers who nodded like, “Yep, she gets it.” I did.

    I also grabbed a cup of fresh juice and a tiny stool. Soccer talk buzzed over my shoulder. It felt like a hug from the city.

    Fish, Fried and Perfect

    Dar Filettaro a Santa Barbara near Largo Argentina gave me a hot, golden piece of fried cod. Crisp outside, flaky inside. A squeeze of lemon did the trick. I ate on the steps outside with a paper plate and a goofy smile. The line looks scary, but it moves.

    Sweet Beats: Maritozzi, Gelato, and Shaved Ice

    Roscioli Caffè served me a maritozzo that I still dream about. It’s a soft bun stuffed with whipped cream. I walked out with a cream mustache and zero regrets.

    For gelato, I stuck with places that keep colors soft, not neon. Gelateria del Teatro had pistachio that tasted like, well, pistachio. Fatamorgana had a rosemary honey lemon scoop that felt like summer on a spoon. Two flavors, small cup—that’s my rule.

    On a hot day, I found grattachecca at Sora Mirella in Trastevere. It’s hand-shaved ice with syrup and fresh fruit. Cold, sweet, and a little sticky. I didn’t care. My shirt survived.

    Coffee, Quick and Standing

    I learned to stand at the counter, toss back an espresso, and go. Sometimes you pay first at the cassa, then take the slip to the bar. A warm cornetto with apricot jam made mornings easy. Fast, cheap, right to the point. Need more morning inspo? I once tackled the entire spread for an Italian breakfast worth waking up for, and the sugar-and-caffeine memories still fuel me.

    What I Loved (And What I Didn’t)

    • Loved: Paying by weight for pizza. Real fillings in trapizzini. Supplì that crunch. Market sandwiches that taste like Sunday at grandma’s.
    • Didn’t love: Tourist stands with gelato piled like mountains. Soggy supplì. Cold pizza reheated in a rush. I passed when I saw that.

    Little Things That Help

    • Learn a few words: “Al taglio” (by the slice), “caldo” (hot), “grazie” (thanks).
    • Point and smile. It works.
    • Carry small coins.
    • Eat a bit early or late to skip big crowds.
    • Sundays can be sleepy. August too.
    • Share more, order less, and keep moving.

    Street-food fueled days often roll into moonlit wanderings, and Rome’s whispered corners have inspired more than a few clandestine love stories. If curiosity tempts you to explore that after-dark social scene, this in-depth Ashley Madison review breaks down membership costs, features, and discretion safeguards so you can decide whether the platform fits into your own Roman holiday narrative. Stateside wanderers tracing their way along California’s Central Coast, for instance, might want a similarly low-key way to spark spontaneous connections; bookmarking Backpage Watsonville can surface hyper-local classifieds—everything from casual coffee meet-ups to no-strings evening dates—so you can keep the adventure alive even after your passport is back in the drawer.

    Seasonal Side Note

    Spring gave me artichoke specials in odd spots—one stall even had a carciofi supplì. Fall brought mushrooms on pizza al taglio. Winter wanted me to drink more coffee. I listened.

    Final Bite

    Street food in Rome feels honest. It’s fast, full of heart, and made to walk with you. For anyone plotting their own edible itinerary, Tasting Europe offers a deep dive into street eats and regional specialties far beyond the Eternal City. I planned my days around snacks and never felt silly. Would I go back for that Mordi e Vai panino and a hot supplì at Supplizio? In a heartbeat. And yes, I’d still eat on the curb.

  • I Ate My Way Through Europe: What I Loved, What I Didn’t

    I travel with my belly. I pack stretchy pants. I bring wet wipes. And I keep notes. Here’s what stood out for me on a very hungry loop across Europe—real spots, real bites, and the little things no one tells you.
    Before setting out, I like to scout local food festivals and market schedules on TastingEurope, a site that pinpoints exactly where—and when—the tastiest regional bites appear.

    If you want the play-by-play of my entire tasting circuit, you can read the full dispatch I filed in my I Ate My Way Through Europe travel diary—it’s a deeper dive into every forkful.

    Morning Breads and Sweet Starts

    Paris set the tone. I walked to Du Pain et des Idées at 7 a.m., half asleep, and got a butter croissant. The crackle was loud. The inside was warm and soft, almost creamy. I ate it on the curb like a raccoon, and I didn’t care. Price felt high, but the taste felt right.
    Craving more viennoiserie inspiration, I also earmarked the city’s best spots for pain suisse after stumbling on this Le Monde roundup that maps out exactly where to score the chocolate-studied treat.

    Lisbon was a different kind of joy. Pastéis de Belém served me two hot custard tarts. The crust was thin and flaky; the top was speckled with brown spots. Cinnamon and sugar on top? Yes, a light dusting. I burned my tongue. Worth it.

    Italy wakes up differently, by the way; if you’re curious about what locals actually snack on before 9 a.m., I broke it down in this Italian breakfast field report.

    Munich gave me a soft pretzel at Viktualienmarkt. Big, glossy, and salty. I had it with sweet mustard and a cold apple spritz. Simple food that hits hard. One note: some stalls keep pretzels under heat lamps. Those taste tired.

    Street Food That Earned Its Hype

    Rome did not mess around. At Pizzarium Bonci, I pointed at slabs of pizza al taglio. Crispy base; cloud-like dough. Potato and rosemary was my top pick. I stood outside with a napkin and a grin. It’s not cheap by the kilo, but each square fills you up—TripExpert’s review nails the reasons the crust alone commands a queue.

    That slice is only one of dozens of curb-side bites I tracked in the capital—my complete ramble is captured in this Rome street-food love letter if you’re hungry for more.

    Berlin fed me a messy hero: a döner at Mustafa’s Gemüse Kebap. The line took 35 minutes. The bread was warm, the chicken juicy, and the veg had a nice char. The minty yogurt sauce tied it together. I loved it, but the wait? Not fun in the rain.

    Later, I compared it with all kinds of train-station munchies and corner-store candy for a no-filter review of German snack food.

    Athens handed me a paper wrap of joy at Kostas near Syntagma. Souvlaki with pork, tomatoes, onion, and a hit of parsley. Fries tucked inside the pita. Fresh and fast. I got two. No regrets.

    London’s Poppies gave me fish and chips. Crisp batter, flaky cod, proper mushy peas. I added malt vinegar and felt old-school cool. One thing: if it sits in the paper too long, the crunch fades. Eat quick.

    San Sebastián changed my mind on anchovies. Pintxos at Borda Berri were tiny but bold. Braised beef cheeks melted like warm pudding. I tried boquerones (white anchovies) with olive oil and lemon. Clean, not fishy. Who knew?

    That Spanish simplicity got me thinking about how Iberian flavors stack up to the Latin American plates I grew up with, so I wrote a candid Spain-versus-Mexico taste test if you’re hungry for cross-Atlantic context.

    Cozy Plates for Rainy Days

    Budapest warmed me up at Gettó Gulyás. The goulash came in a deep bowl. Beef, paprika, soft carrots; the broth had a slow burn. I tore bread and dunked it. It felt like a hug.

    Rome again, because pasta. Roscioli’s cacio e pepe was silky and peppery. The sauce clung to each noodle. It’s simple, but not easy. I tasted the cheese, not just salt. Service was brisk, not rude—just busy.

    On another trip down south, the tomato-driven dishes hit differently; you can nibble through the details in my Southern Italian food diary.

    Vienna’s Figlmüller brought out a schnitzel that covered the plate. Thin, crisp, golden. A spritz of lemon brightened it. I shared it, then ate most of it anyway.

    Stockholm gave me meatballs at Meatballs for the People. Tender, with lingonberry and a gravy that didn’t feel heavy. The mash was smooth. Yes, I scraped the plate.

    Cheese Pulls and Winter Feels

    Zurich on a cold night equals raclette. I tried Raclette Factory. Hot cheese scraped over potatoes with pickles and onions. The smell was bold. The first bites made me happy; the last bites felt like a blanket. On a hot day, I’d pass.

    Sweet Things That Stuck With Me

    Florence, Gelateria dei Neri. Pistachio gelato that tasted like real nuts, not fake candy. The texture was dense and clean. I ate it while walking the Arno and got a drip on my sleeve. Worth the stain.

    Brussels, Maison Dandoy. A Liege waffle with sugar pearls that popped. Chewy edges, caramel notes. Don’t load it with five sauces; you’ll bury the taste. A little whipped cream is plenty.

    Vienna, Café Sacher. Sachertorte is neat and tidy. Dark chocolate, apricot layer, glossy top. It looks perfect. It eats a bit dry unless you take a bite with cream. I liked it, didn’t love it. Still, the room felt grand, and I enjoyed the ritual.

    Amsterdam gave me a warm stroopwafel at Albert Cuypmarkt. Fresh-pressed, syrup soft and gooey. I held it over my coffee like a lid. The smell? Butter and spice. Pure comfort.

    Little Letdowns (And How I’d Fix Them)

    • Prague’s trdelník looks fun, but many are dry. If you want a real local bite, get open-faced chlebíčky at Sisters. Fresh, bright, and not just a sugar show.
    • Barcelona paella on the main strip can be soggy or pre-made. I now look for lunch spots that cook it fresh for two. If the pan comes in five minutes, that’s a clue.
    • Fish and chips can go mushy in a bag. Eat at the counter or tuck in outside right away.
    • Waffles buried in toppings taste like candy soup. Keep it simple and let the dough talk.
    • Döner lines in Berlin get wild. Go off-hours or try K’UPS Gemüsekebap for a shorter wait.

    Quick Tips I Wish I Knew

    • Mornings are magic. Bakeries sell out fast; go early.
    • Look for short menus. One page often means fresh food.
    • Ask locals one question: “Where would you bring your mom?” It works.
    • Sauce on the side helps if you’re picky about salt.
    • Cash still matters at some stalls; carry small bills and coins.
    • Seasonal note: hearty dishes shine in winter; fresh fish and fruit taste best in summer.

    My Short List: If You Only Try a Few

    • Croissant at Du Pain et des Idées (Paris) — loud crackle, soft heart.
    • Pizza al taglio at Pizzarium Bonci (Rome) — airy, crisp, happy.
    • Pastéis de nata at Pastéis de Belém (Lisbon) — hot, sweet, balanced.
    • Döner at Mustafa’s (Berlin) — juicy, messy, worth a plan.
    • Goulash at Gettó Gulyás (Budapest) — cozy bowl, gentle heat.
    • Gelato at Gelateria dei Neri (Florence) — real pistachio, clean finish.

    You know what? I thought I’d hate anchovies. I loved them. I thought I’d love every fancy cake. Some were just okay. Food can surprise you like that.

    Also,

  • Italian Sparkling Wine: My Real-Life Sips, Spills, and Smiles

    Quick outline:

    • Why I reach for Italian bubbles
    • The bottles I actually drank (with real moments)
    • What tasted great, what didn’t
    • Food pairings that worked
    • Tiny tips that saved me money and stress

    Why I keep grabbing Italian bubbles

    I love how friendly they feel. The bottles look sharp, but the wine isn’t snobby. It’s bright. It’s fun. For a quick, visual tour of Italy’s bubbly hotspots, I like scrolling this interactive map on Tasting Europe before I hit the wine shop. And it goes with pizza, cake, or even game night. I used to think all Prosecco was sweet. I was wrong. Some are crisp and dry; some are fruity and soft. That was a happy surprise.

    Also, you know what? The price makes it easy. I can bring a bottle and not sweat it.

    If you want the longer play-by-play of these foamy victories and fiascos, check out my full diary of Italian sparkling wine sips, spills, and smiles—it’s the uncorked version of what you’re reading now.

    That wanderlust even pushed me beyond Italy; the stories from my 30 days on European wine tours spill the beans on which regions wowed me and which ones fizzled.

    What I actually drank

    Here’s what I’ve opened this year. Real nights. Real friends. No fancy tasting room, just my kitchen and a shaky hand with the wire cage.

    • La Marca Prosecco (Veneto)
      I took this to a Saturday picnic by the lake. We had grapes, chips, and a plastic knife that kept bending. The bubbles were fine and lively. Pear and apple. Not harsh. Everyone poured seconds. Around $14 where I live. Good deal.

    • Nino Franco “Rustico” Prosecco Superiore (Valdobbiadene)
      This felt a step up. Dry, clean, and bright. I served it with shrimp tacos I made on a sheet pan—nothing fancy. The acid cut the spice in a nice way. I said “whoa” after the first sip. About $22–$25 here.

    • Ferrari Trento Brut (Trentino)
      Birthday toast at my place. Three candles fell over. I still cheered. This one tastes more like classic Champagne—tiny bubbles, toasty bread, lemon. My husband called it “classy” and he drinks from a mug. Worth it for a big day. I paid $30-something.

    • Ca’ del Bosco Cuvée Prestige Franciacorta (Lombardy)
      Date night in. We made roast chicken with lemon and thyme. This bottle felt smooth and rich, with a hint of almond and citrus peel. The finish lasted. I kept smelling my glass like a weirdo. It runs higher—mine was about $50—but it delivered.

    • Berlucchi ’61 Franciacorta Brut
      New Year’s at my friend Mel’s tiny apartment. Confetti everywhere. Clean, crisp, and steady bubbles. It didn’t fight the cheese board. Tasted balanced. A safe bet when you want “nice,” not flashy. Roughly $35 where I bought it.

    • Martini & Rossi Asti Spumante (Piedmont)
      Dessert night. We had peach pie. This one is sweet, floral, and peachy. Light alcohol, easy to sip. My aunt, who hates “dry wine,” loved it. We chilled it more than usual, and it hit the spot. About $12–$15.

    • Cleto Chiarli Lambrusco Secco (Emilia-Romagna)
      Pizza night—pepperoni and arugula. Red bubbles! Dry, with cherry and a tiny bite. So good with salty slices. It looked cool in short glasses. My friend said, “Why is red wine dancing?” We laughed. It was perfect.

    • Bottega Gold Prosecco
      I brought this to a bridal shower because the gold bottle is a showpiece. Tasted fresh and fruity. Not the most complex, but the look won the room. Good for photos. Price swings by store.

    The good, the meh, the oops

    The good:

    • Friendly flavors: pear, apple, lemon, peach. Easy to like.
    • Food loves it. Chips to oysters, no problem.
    • Prices make it simple. You can try a few and not cry.

    The meh:

    • Some Prosecco tastes flat or too sweet if it’s been shelved warm. I had a cheap bottle once that felt sleepy. Not bad, just dull.
    • Big party bottles can lose fizz fast if left open on the counter.

    The oops:

    • I once twisted the cork too fast, and it shot across my sink. Scared the cat. Hold the cork and twist the bottle, slow, with a towel.
    • I chilled a Franciacorta in the freezer and forgot it. Slush. Not cool. Well—literally cool, but not good.

    Food pairings that worked for me

    • Salty snacks: potato chips, olives, prosciutto—bubbles love salt.
    • Tacos or fried chicken: dry Prosecco or Ferrari Trento helps cut the fat and spice.
    • Sushi night: a crisp Prosecco Superiore kept the fish tasting fresh.
    • Pizza: Lambrusco Secco with pepperoni made me grin.
    • Birthday cake or peach pie: Asti Spumante felt like a sweet hug.
    • Roast chicken or creamy pasta: Franciacorta brought depth without heaviness.

    Need more inspiration? The folks at Glass of Bubbly put together a handy guide to pairing Italian food with sparkling wine that’s worth a read before your next feast.

    A tiny detour: spritz talk

    Yes, I use Prosecco for spritz. I like Aperol with a fat orange slice and a splash of soda. For a lighter drink, I do half wine, half soda, and a wedge of grapefruit. Cheap Prosecco works fine here. Save the good ones for sipping.

    Sweet or dry? Quick cheat sheet

    • “Brut” = dry. Less sugar. Crisp finish.
    • “Extra Dry” = a touch sweeter than Brut, even if the name sounds the other way.
    • “Dry” on the label = sweeter still.
    • Asti is sweet. Great for dessert or folks who want gentle bubbles.
    • Lambrusco can be dry or sweet. Look for “Secco” if you want dry.

    Prosecco and Asti might share bubbles, but they’re worlds apart in style—this comparison of Prosecco vs. Asti lays out the key differences if you want to geek out before pouring.

    Little tips I learned the hard way

    • Chill it well, but don’t freeze it. Fridge for at least 3 hours. Or ice bucket for 20–30 minutes.
    • Open slowly. Keep a hand over the cork. Turn the bottle, not the cork.
    • If you won’t finish it, use a sparkling wine stopper that clamps. I use an OXO one. It keeps fizz for a day or two.
    • Store leftover bottles standing up in the fridge, not on the side.
    • For better flavor, don’t use super tiny flutes. A small white wine glass lets the smell open up.

    Side note: During a recent Lambrusco-and-pizza night, a buddy claimed that too many indulgences—from late-night bubbly to, uh, personal “workouts”—could tank his testosterone. I had no clue about the second part, so I dug around and found this science-backed breakdown on whether masturbation actually lowers testosterone. It rounds up current studies, debunks locker-room myths, and gives clear expert advice—handy info so you can sip, chill, and stop stressing about your hormones.

    Speaking of late-night plans, sometimes the sparkle in your glass leads to a spark of spontaneity—like deciding to extend date night after the last pour. If you ever find yourself cruising through Georgia and want a fast way to scope out the local scene, Backpage Griffin can point you toward nightlife listings and companionship ads, helping you line up an adventure that’s as memorable as the wine you just shared.

    What I’d buy again and why

    Before we jump in, I put together a deeper rundown of the best Italian wine I keep reaching for if you want more context on my repeat purchases. Here’s the bite-size version:

    • Everyday hang: La Marca Prosecco or Martini Asti (depends on mood—dry vs sweet).
    • Pizza or charcuterie night: Cleto Chiarli Lambrusco Secco.
    • “I want Champagne vibes, not Champagne price”: Ferrari Trento Brut.
    • Fancy dinner or gift: Ca’ del Bosco Cuvée Prestige or Berlucchi ’61.

    Final sip

    I used to think “sparkling” meant one thing. Now I see it’s a

  • The Best Spanish Wines I Actually Drink

    I keep coming back to Spanish wine. It’s bold, but friendly. It smells like sun and sea. And it fits real life. Tuesday tacos. Date night. A messy backyard grill with friends. I’ve tried these bottles more than once, in my own kitchen, with my own food. Here’s what’s worth your time and money.

    Quick picks, because you’re thirsty

    • Steak or lamb? Rioja Reserva like La Rioja Alta 904.
    • Burgers or ribs? Monastrell from Jumilla, like Juan Gil Silver.
    • Pizza or roast chicken? Bierzo Mencía, like Petalos by J. Palacios.
    • Shrimp tacos or oysters? Albariño from Rías Baixas, like Do Ferreiro.
    • Fancy treat night? Priorat, like Álvaro Palacios Finca Dofí.
    • Pop-and-party bubbles? Cava, like Gramona Imperial or Recaredo Terrers.
    • Salty snacks or sushi? Manzanilla Sherry, like La Gitana.

    Let me explain. I’ll keep it simple.
    For an even richer adventure pairing these bottles with authentic regional dishes, check out the travel-and-food guides at Tasting Europe. For a broader look at what I discovered while tasting my way through Spain's diverse wine regions, read my honest take here.

    Planning to crack open that Rioja or Cava on a glammed-up Los Angeles getaway? If you’d like ideas on where to keep the celebration rolling once the cork pops, the local nightlife directory at Backpage Beverly Hills lays out lounges, entertainment, and discreet companionship options in one spot, helping you match the perfect vibe to the Spanish wine you bring along.

    Rioja Reds: cozy, classic, and smells like a hug

    I pour Rioja when I make lamb or a slow Sunday stew. My repeat buys:

    • La Rioja Alta 904 Gran Reserva: It’s silky. Red cherry, cedar, a little vanilla from the oak. I opened a 2011 with roast lamb and mint. The table went quiet. Good sign.
    • López de Heredia Viña Tondonia Reserva: Old-school charm. Dried strawberry, leather, a hint of spice. Not a fruit bomb. I like it with mushroom risotto or Manchego.

    Tip: Serve a bit cooler than room temp. Like 60–65°F. It wakes the wine up.

    For the curious, the bodega shares a detailed technical sheet of the 2015 vintage ​here, and Decanter’s expert panel offers an insightful tasting note you can read here.

    Ribera del Duero: deeper, darker, steak ready

    These feel like Rioja’s gym buddy. More muscle, still polite.

    • AALTO (the regular bottling): Dense black fruit. Smooth oak. I poured it for my birthday ribeye. It held up to char like a champ.
    • Pesquera Crianza: Rustic in a good way. Blackberry, tobacco, and a firm grip. I decant for 30 minutes.

    If you ever see Vega Sicilia Valbuena by the glass, say yes. Pricey, but it’s velvet. For more straight-shooting notes on Spain's highest-scoring bottles, I logged the results here.

    Priorat (and value Montsant): mountain power with a cool streak

    Priorat tastes like a dark rock garden after rain. It’s rich, but not messy.

    • Álvaro Palacios Finca Dofí: Black plum, licorice, and a long, clean finish. I shared a bottle on a cold night with braised short ribs. We lingered over the last pour.
    • Montsant backup: Capçanes Mas Donís. Half the price, similar spirit. I keep it for BBQ chicken and charred peppers.

    Jumilla Monastrell: weeknight hero

    When I grill burgers or toss ribs in the oven, I grab:

    • Juan Gil Silver Label (12 Meses): Juicy, smoky, a touch of chocolate. It’s bold, but easy.
    • Casa Castillo Monastrell: A bit fresher. Black cherry and herbs. Great with chili.

    These punch above their price. Like, way above.

    Bierzo Mencía: the pizza and roast chicken friend

    Bierzo smells like violets and red fruit. It’s light on its feet.

    • Descendientes de J. Palacios “Pétalos”: Bright cherry, a little earth, and a peppery edge. I chilled it for 15 minutes, then had it with sausage pizza. Perfect.
    • Raúl Pérez Ultreia Saint Jacques: Juicy and lively. A budget gem.

    If you think you only like Pinot, try Mencía. You might switch teams.

    Albariño from Rías Baixas: the summer seafood button

    I love Albariño with shrimp tacos, ceviche, even plain chips.

    • Do Ferreiro Albariño: Lime, peach, and a salty snap. I brought it to a beach cookout with grilled prawns. Zero leftovers.
    • Pazo de Señorans: Rounder fruit, still crisp. Great with sushi night at home.

    Tip: Cold, but not ice-cold. You want flavor, not frostbite.

    Godello from Valdeorras: the “white Burgundy” cousin, but cheaper

    Creamy texture, bright core. Cozy without being heavy.

    • Rafael Palacios “Louro”: Pear, lemon curd, a shy toast note. I pour it with roast chicken and thyme. It just fits.
    • If you spot “As Sortes,” that’s the fancy big sibling. Special dinner stuff.

    Rueda Verdejo: porch sipper that still has brains

    • José Pariente Verdejo: Grapefruit, fennel, and a clean finish. I take it to picnics with hummus and herby salads.
    • Belondrade y Lurton: Barrel-fermented, richer style. Think lobster rolls or creamy pasta.

    Bubbles time: Cava (and friends)

    Spanish bubbles bring joy without drama.

    • Gramona Imperial: Fine bubbles, baked apple, almond. I’ve poured this for New Year’s and a random Tuesday. Both felt special.
    • Recaredo Terrers Brut Nature: Bone-dry, elegant, long finish. Great with fried chicken. Yes, fried chicken.
    • Raventós i Blanc “De la Finca”: Technically not Cava now, but Spanish and awesome. Lemon, stone, and poise.

    Sherry: my secret snack weapon

    I keep Sherry in the fridge. It’s not just for grandpas. It’s for olives, almonds, sushi, and rainy-day soups.

    • Manzanilla “La Gitana”: Bright, salty, and light. I sip it with potato chips. Trust me.
    • Tío Pepe Fino: Zesty and dry. Great pre-dinner.
    • Lustau Amontillado “Los Arcos”: Nutty, deeper, perfect with mushrooms or aged cheese.

    Tip: It stays fresh for weeks in the fridge. Small pours, small glasses.

    Wild card: Txakoli and one pink I crave

    • Ameztoi Rubentis (rosé): Light, a little spritzy, strawberry and sea air. I had it with grilled sardines on a hot July day. We went back for a second bottle.
    • Txomin Etxaniz (white): High acid, citrus, a tiny fizz. Oysters love it.

    Little things that make these taste better

    • Decant bigger reds for 30–60 minutes. Even the mid-level ones.
    • Chill reds a touch in summer. Ten minutes in the fridge. Thank me later.
    • Albariño and Txakoli should be cold. Godello and barrel-aged whites a bit warmer.
    • Don’t fear older Rioja. A 10–15 year bottle can be magic.
    • Glassware matters less than clean, tulip-shaped glasses. I use simple Schott Zwiesel stems.

    Sometimes you might be enjoying a solo glass of Rioja while catching up with friends online instead of around the table. If the night calls for a smooth video platform that won’t crash mid-toast, this in-depth Firecams review can help you pick a reliable service—covering features, pricing, and safety tips—so your virtual happy hour stays as seamless as the wine you’re sipping.

    My shortlist to buy again this year

    • La Rioja Alta 904 Gran Reserva
    • López de Heredia Viña Tondonia Reserva (red and the white Gravonia if you see it)
    • AALTO Ribera del Duero
    • Álvaro Palacios Finca Dofí (splurge)
    • Capçanes Mas Donís (value red)
    • Juan Gil Silver Label Monastrell
    • Petalos Bierzo Mencía
    • Do Ferreiro Albariño

  • European Wines I Actually Drink: My Honest Take

    I drink a lot of wine. Not fancy for show. Real bottles I bring to dinner, game night, or a quiet Tuesday with pasta. You know what? Europe keeps pulling me back. When I'm hunting for new bottles or food matches, I skim the regional guides on Tasting Europe to see what locals pour alongside their plates. The bottles feel steady. They feel lived-in. Like a sweater that fits right. One write-up that steered my shopping list was their frank rundown, European Wines I Actually Drink: My Honest Take.

    I’m not a sommelier. I’m a curious sipper with a notebook and a cheap aerator. I use two IKEA glasses, a rubber wine stopper, and a very nosy cat who loves boxes. Here’s what I’ve tried, what sang, and what… didn’t.

    How I Taste (Very Normal, Very Real)

    I pour a small amount. I look, I sniff, I sip. Then I wait a minute and sip again. Sometimes I let the bottle sit open 20 minutes. It can soften rough edges. If a wine smells like matchstick at first, I give it air. If it still smells off after 10 minutes, I move on.

    I keep an old Vacu Vin pump for leftovers. Not perfect, but it buys me another day.

    France: Clean, Snappy, and Sometimes Moody

    • Sancerre, 2021 Henri Bourgeois “Les Baronnes”

      • Why I bought it: My fish night needs a friend.
      • Taste: Lime, wet stone, a little gooseberry. Super bright.
      • What I loved: So clean with baked cod and lemon. It cut through butter.
      • What bugged me: On day two, the zing turned a bit sour. Drink same day.

    • Beaujolais-Villages, 2021 Louis Jadot

      • Taste: Fresh cherry, a bit of bubble gum, light spice.
      • Win: I chilled it for 15 minutes. With roast chicken? Yes please.
      • Miss: A tiny bitter note on the finish when it warmed up too much.

    • Champagne, NV Piper-Heidsieck Brut

      • Taste: Crisp apple, toast, small bubbles.
      • Joy moment: New Year’s with salty chips. Fancy meets simple. It works.
      • Note: Pricey. I grab Cava when I want the vibe without the bill.

    Italy: Heart, Herbs, and Sunday Sauce

    I partly blame Tasting Europe’s piece on the best Italian wine they keep reaching for for my recent Chianti streak.

    • Chianti Classico, 2019 Ruffino Riserva Ducale

      • Taste: Sour cherry, dried herbs, a little leather.
      • What I loved: With spaghetti and meatballs, it felt made for it.
      • Caution: Tannins (that dry grip) can feel rough without food.

    • Barolo, 2016 Vietti “Castiglione”

      • Taste: Rose, tar (yes, tar), cherry, long finish.
      • Big truth: It needs time in a carafe. Then it blossoms.
      • Ouch: The price. I save it for birthdays. Not a weeknight pour.

    • Soave Classico, 2021 Pieropan

      • Taste: White peach, almond, clean finish.
      • Side note: Great fridge white. Good with shrimp tacos.
      • Little gripe: The middle felt thin with creamy dishes.

    On the fizzier side, their diary of Italian sparkling wine—real-life sips, spills, and smiles convinced me to stash a bottle of Lambrusco in the fridge.

    • Etna Rosso, 2020 Tenuta delle Terre Nere
      • Taste: Red fruit, smoke, salty edge.
      • Magic: Pizza night. The ash note with charred crust? Chef’s kiss.
      • Quirk: First pour smelled a bit earthy-funky. It blew off fast.

    Spain: Warm, Savory, and Easy to Love

    I loaded up on these bottles after scrolling through Tasting Europe’s notes on the best Spanish wines they actually drink. It felt like asking a neighbor, not a lecturer.

    • Rioja Reserva, 2018 Muga
      • Taste: Plum, vanilla, cedar, a touch of dill.
      • Good stuff: Cozy with grilled steak and roasted peppers.
      • Watch out: Oak shows up big. If you hate wood spice, this may tire you.

    For a palate check, I lined my notes against their verdict in I Tasted the Top-Rated Spanish Wines So You Don’t Have To (But You’ll Want To).

    • Albariño, 2021 Martín Códax
      • Taste: Lemon, green apple, sea spray.
      • Why I repeat: Sushi or poke bowls. It just clicks.
      • Tiny knock: Loses charm if too warm. Keep it chilled.

    That coastal pop of Albariño made me revisit Tasting Europe’s travelogue on tasting across Spanish wine regions; their Galicia notes are spot-on.

    • Cava, Segura Viudas Brut Reserva (NV)
      • Taste: Citrus, pear, a hint of toast.
      • Win: Bubbles on a budget. Great for brunch mimosas.
      • Flaw: Finish is short. Fun, not deep.

    If bubbles are your love language, their rundown of Spanish sparkling wine that keeps them reaching for a refill is a fun rabbit hole.

    Portugal: Zest and Nightcap Joy

    • Vinho Verde, Aveleda (NV)

      • Taste: Light, zesty, a tiny spritz.
      • Pairing: Salad with feta and olives. Also patio naps.
      • Note: So light you can miss it with spicy food.

    • Port, Graham’s Six Grapes Reserve

      • Taste: Blackberry jam, cocoa, sweet spice.
      • Best moment: Dark chocolate and an old movie. Cozy city.
      • Heads-up: Sweet. Small glass does the trick.

    Germany and Austria: Sharp, Pretty, and Bright

    I used to assume German whites lived on the sweet side, but Tasting Europe’s confession, I Thought German Wine Was All Sweet— I Was Wrong (and Happy) About It, nudged me toward the drier shelves.

    • Riesling Kabinett, 2021 Dr. Loosen “Blue Slate”

      • Taste: Peach, lime, slate. Slight sweetness.
      • Perk: Cuts heat in Thai takeout like a pro.
      • Quirk: If you want dry-dry, this isn’t it.

    • Grüner Veltliner, 2021 Domäne Wachau Federspiel

      • Taste: Pear, lemon zest, white pepper.
      • Snack win: Roast chicken and simple greens.
      • Mild gripe: Pepper note felt sharp when very cold. Let it warm a bit.

    Greece and Hungary: Crisp Islands and Gold Dessert

    • Assyrtiko, 2020 Gaia “Thalassitis” (Santorini)

      • Taste: Lemon, sea salt, smoke.
      • Love: With grilled octopus at home (yep, I tried). Spot on.
      • Note: High acid. It’s a wake-up call, not a cuddle.

    • Tokaji Aszú 5 Puttonyos, 2016 Royal Tokaji

      • Taste: Apricot, honey, orange peel.
      • Perfect with: Blue cheese or apple pie. Sweet meets tang.
      • Caveat: Sweetness can weigh heavy after one glass.

    What Actually Surprised Me

    • Cheap Beaujolais chilled beats many pricey reds on a hot night.
    • Albariño and popcorn? Weird, but it works.
    • Barolo showed me patience matters. Air changed it from sharp to silky.
    • Vinho Verde made lunch feel brighter. Not better, just brighter.

    Those surprises echoed a lot of the takeaways in their marathon diary, I Spent 30 Days on European Wine Tours—What I Loved, What Fell Flat.

    Bottles I’d Buy Again (and Why)

    • Everyday:
      • Louis Jadot Beaujolais-Villages 2021 — juicy, chillable, friendly price.

  • Mexican Food in Europe: My Taco Trail, Told Straight

    I’m Kayla. I grew up in Texas, where good tacos are normal. Then I moved around Europe for work. I missed the smell of corn on a hot pan. I missed real salsa. So I started hunting.

    Here’s where I ate, what hit, and what bugged me. Real places. Real plates. Real spills on my shirt.

    If you’d like the complete, stop-by-stop log of this journey, you can check it out here.

    London: Big City, Big Salsa Energy

    El Pastor (Borough Market) was my first stop. I stood in line on a cold night. My hands froze. My nose did not. I could smell the trompo—pork twirling with pineapple. The al pastor taco was juicy, sweet, and a bit smoky. The tortillas were soft and warm. I asked for extra lime. They smiled and gave me two. Bless them.

    Santo Remedio (London Bridge) felt like a date night spot. Bright colors. Friendly staff. The guac had a clean hit of lime and a neat crunch of pumpkin seeds. My fish tacos were crisp, not greasy. One miss? The heat level. I wanted more kick. The habanero salsa helped, but I had to ask.

    Little tip: Cool Chile Co sells corn tortillas and masa in London. I grabbed Maseca there and made tortillas at home. The kitchen looked like a science lab. The tortillas tasted like a hug.

    What I loved:

    • Proper corn tortillas
    • Warm service
    • Clean flavors

    What bugged me:

    • Prices stack up fast
    • Heat is shy unless you ask

    Madrid: Cheap, Fast, and Shockingly Good

    Takos al Pastor near Sol is wild. The line moves quick. The tacos were about a euro when I went. The al pastor had caramelized edges and that sweet bite of pineapple. Are they tiny? Yep. Did I eat five? Also yes. The salsa verde had zip but not a big punch. Still, for the price, I grinned.

    Barracuda MX changed my mood. It’s by the chef from the old Punto MX. (Read more about Punto MX’s Michelin-starred legacy here.) The food has beach energy—clean and bright. I had fish tacos with cabbage and a creamy sauce. The batter was light. The fish was moist. It tasted like sun. It also cost way more than Takos. Different lane. Worth it for a treat.

    One more: La Lupita gave me a warm plate of cochinita pibil. Orange, soft, a little sweet. The pickled onion made it sing.

    What I learned:

    • Madrid nails pork
    • Cheap spots win on speed
    • Fancy spots win on balance

    All that tapas-land taco tasting got me comparing culinary cultures; I laid out my thoughts on the key differences between Spanish and Mexican food in this separate piece from my own plate right here.

    Barcelona: Casual Crunch, City Heat

    Taco Alto surprised me. It’s a small chain. I tried the campechano—beef and chorizo—on a quick lunch. The tortilla held up. The meat had good char. The red salsa tasted like it meant business. On a hot day, with a cold beer, it just worked.

    La Taquería in Gràcia felt homey. My carnitas were soft and salty, with edges that crackled a bit. The salsa morita had smoke and depth. I took a beat between bites. You know that moment when you go quiet because it’s good? That.

    Small gripe: timing. My friend’s tacos came ten minutes after mine. We shared, but still.

    Berlin: Grit, Heart, And A Lot Of Lime

    Santa Maria in Kreuzberg is loud and fun. I got carnitas and a margarita with a salty rim. The carnitas had those crispy bits I crave. Their salsa roja was bright and a little mean, in a good way. I kept dipping chips when I was full. Classic me.

    Chaparro was my quick fix after a long walk by the canal. Black beans were creamy. The chicken tinga had soft heat. Portions were fair. Prices felt friendly.

    Taquería El Oso made me stop talking. The birria tacos came hot, with a cup of consomé to dunk. The broth was rich and beefy, with a hint of cinnamon and clove. My lips went numb from the chili. I laughed. It was that good.

    Note: Some Berlin spots are cash-only or slow on busy nights. Bring patience. Bring cash.

    Paris: Pretty Plates, Serious Tortillas

    Candelaria is tiny up front, with a hidden bar in the back. The tacos? Neat, careful, and honest. My al pastor had balanced spice and bright pineapple. The tortilla snapped back like fresh bread. Prices are Paris prices, yes. But the quality shows. If you want even more Parisian spots with a Mexican twist, check out this quick guide.

    El Nopal by the canal gave me a fast, no-fuss lunch. I stood on the curb with two tacos and a Jarritos. The salsa tasted fresh, with a shine of lime. A pigeon eyed me. I ate faster.

    Bocamexa is more burrito-forward. It’s fine when you need fuel. Not a dream, but it does the job.

    Copenhagen: Where Corn Gets Fancy

    Hija de Sanchez is the one I still dream about. Rosio Sanchez makes her own masa. Blue corn. The smell alone sent me home to Texas. I ate a taco de suadero with a sharp, clean salsa. The tortilla had flavor, not just texture. Expensive? Yep. Worth it? Also yep.

    At Torvehallerne, I stood in the sun, juice on my wrist, and felt weirdly happy. Food can do that.

    Lisbon: Loud Music, Big Heart

    Pistola y Corazón in Cais do Sodré is a party. The music thumps. The room glows. My barbacoa taco was rich and tender. The margarita had real lime, not that syrup stuff. The staff nudged me to try their hotter salsa. I did. My eyes watered. I kept going.

    Only thing: the line. Get there early, or you’ll get hangry. While you’re inching forward, you might fire up a dating app and need a spicy opener—slide over to these Tinder pick-up lines to stock up on clever quips that can turn that wait time into a match worth meeting later.

    Bonus tip for when your taco tour eventually lands you back in the States: if you cruise through Lacey, Washington, craving both carne asada and conversation, check out Backpage Lacey—the local listings make it easy to find last-minute social plans, from low-key coffee dates to full-on night-on-the-town adventures.

    Amsterdam: Style With Substance

    Coba Taqueria in Noord is calm and sharp, with bold colors and a steady hand. They nixtamalize (they cook and grind corn the old way) and you can taste it. My suadero taco had seared beef and a slick of salsa that hummed. Clean work. Very clean.

    Los Pilones is more Tex-Mex. I went for nachos and a solid margarita. Not peak taco, but fun with friends, and sometimes that matters more.

    Little Nerd Notes (From A Person Who Cares Too Much)

    • Tortillas matter most. If a place makes fresh corn tortillas, you can smell it. Warm, toasty, a bit sweet.
    • Salsa should not be shy. Ask for the hot one. If they won’t give it to you, that’s a sign.
    • Balance is key: fat, acid, salt, heat. Old rule, still true.
    • Price swings a lot. Street-style in Madrid can be a few coins. In Copenhagen, it’s a small splurge.

    Quick Hits: What I’d Get Again

    • London: Al pastor at El Pastor; guac and fish tacos at Santo Remedio
    • Madrid: Five al pastor at Takos; fish tacos at Barracuda MX
    • Barcelona: Campechano at Taco Alto; carnitas at La Taquería
    • Berlin: Birria at El Oso; carnitas at Santa Maria
    • Paris: Al pastor at Candelaria; two quick tacos at El Nopal
    • Copenhagen: Anything at Hija de Sanchez, but suadero first
    • Lisbon: Barbacoa at Pistola y Corazón
    • Amsterdam: Suadero at Coba; nachos at Los Pilones with friends

    If you’re planning your own culinary trek, a quick browse through Tasting Europe can help you stitch these taco stops into a bigger, bite-driven itinerary across the continent.

    For an even broader look at everything I munched across the continent—including the misses—I kept a candid journal that you can read [over on Tasting Europe](https://www.tastingeurope.com/i-

  • I Ate My Way Across Europe: My Favorite Food Cities

    I’m Kayla, and I eat with a small notebook in my bag. I write the good, the odd, and the “why is this so salty?” Travel feels like a series of plates to me. Some cities just stick. The smells, the lines, the messy napkins. Want the truth? I care about the little things—like bread baskets and late-night snacks. Here’s where I’ve eaten well, more than once, with real spots you can walk into.

    How I Judge a Food City (quick and honest)

    • Great basics: bread, coffee, produce
    • A mix of high and low: street food and sit-down
    • Markets that feel alive
    • At least one dish I still dream about
    • Fair prices or, if pricey, food that’s worth it

    I rate with my stomach and a bit of common sense. Before any trip, I open Tasting Europe for a quick look at regional specialties and food events that might spice up my schedule.

    If you're curious about how this entire itinerary came together, you can read the full play-by-play of how I ate my way across Europe.

    Paris, France — Butter Runs the Show

    I start every day with a croissant, no shame. My favorite one in Paris? Du Pain et des Idées. The escargot pastry with pistachio still haunts me. For lunch, I grab falafel at L’As du Fallafel. Messy. Joyful. Then I sit on a curb and just eat.

    At night, Bouillon Pigalle is my budget friend. Classic French food, fast flow, big room. Crème caramel for dessert. If I feel fancy, I book Septime weeks ahead and pretend I’m very calm.

    • Don’t miss: Breizh Café for buckwheat galettes, Berthillon for ice cream on Île Saint-Louis
    • Heads up: Lines are long, and service can be… brisk. It’s Paris.

    Rome, Italy — Pasta That Hushes the Table

    Rome taught me to chew slower. Cacio e pepe at Roscioli felt like a class. The sauce clings. It’s simple, but not plain. Carbonara at Da Enzo al 29 made me smile like a kid. I stood outside for almost an hour and didn’t mind.

    For a quick bite, I grab pizza al taglio at Pizzarium Bonci near the Vatican. Potato and rosemary is the sleeper. Then I wander with a cone from Gelateria del Teatro.

    Need a deeper cheat sheet to the capital’s street snacks? I put together a first-person love letter to Rome’s street food that maps out every crunchy bite.

    • Don’t miss: Trapizzino for pocket bread stuffed with stew
    • Heads up: Tourist menus can trick you. Check the bill for extra charges.

    San Sebastián, Spain — Pintxos Like Little Poems

    This city is a snack parade. I do a crawl, no seats, small plates, lots of joy. At La Cuchara de San Telmo, the beef cheeks are soft and deep in flavor. Bar Nestor? Tomato salad that hits like summer. If the steak is on, get it. Borda Berri serves creamy risotto that’s not really rice. It’s orzo. Still dreamy.

    • Don’t miss: Gambas at Ganbara, the mushrooms too
    • Heads up: Many places close on Mondays. You’ll stand a lot. Worth it.

    Lisbon, Portugal — Salt, Smoke, and Custard

    I always start at Manteigaria for a warm pastel de nata. The shell shatters. The custard smiles back. For seafood, Cervejaria Ramiro is loud and bright. I crack shells and lick my fingers. Time Out Market is busy, sure, but it works if you’re with a group and can’t agree.

    I love small tascas like Zé da Mouraria. Simple cod, olive oil, and those potatoes that drink the sauce. In June, grilled sardines fill the air during the street parties. Your shirt will smell like smoke. You won’t care.

    • Don’t miss: Pastéis de Belém for the classic custard tart
    • Heads up: Hills, lines, and sometimes salty plates. Bring water.

    London, UK — A Whole Map on One Plate

    London feeds every mood. Breakfast at Dishoom is my soft start: bacon naan and that black daal. Later, I wander Borough Market, steal bites, then end with cheese from Neal’s Yard Dairy. When I want a proper sit-down, St. JOHN gives me roast bone marrow with parsley salad. Yes, it’s rich. Yes, it’s perfect. For pasta, Padella is fast and fresh. The cacio e pepe holds its own.

    Tayyabs in Whitechapel does grilled lamb chops that sizzle and shout. I always over-order. I never regret it.

    • Don’t miss: A pint and a meat pie at The Harwood Arms if you can snag a booking
    • Heads up: It adds up fast. Bookings help.

    Barcelona, Spain — Sunshine and a Fork

    I like to start at La Boqueria market, but I skip the front stalls. I go to El Quim de la Boqueria for tiny fried squid and eggs. Later, I slide into Bar Cañete. The croquettes are creamy inside, crisp outside. Cal Pep is a party at the bar—tell them what you like, and plates will appear.

    On lazy afternoons, I sip vermut in Gràcia and share anchovies with potato chips. The light hits the tiles just right.

    • Don’t miss: Pa amb tomàquet done right—ripe tomato, good oil, rough bread
    • Heads up: Pickpockets. Keep your bag close.

    Copenhagen, Denmark — Clean Lines, Big Flavor

    Yes, it’s expensive. But when it hits, it hits. I grab smørrebrød at Aamanns or Hallernes in Torvehallerne. The herring is bright. The roast beef has crunch and sauce. Juno the Bakery makes a cardamom bun that stopped me mid-step on the sidewalk. Hart Bageri also delivers, especially the flaky stuff.

    For seafood, Kødbyens Fiskebar is crisp and cool. On a sunny day, Reffen street food park is a hangout spot. Coffee? The Coffee Collective—clean, sweet cups that taste like care.

    • Don’t miss: Seasonal menus at small spots like Kadeau (book early)
    • Heads up: Early closings and big bills. Plan meals.

    Lyon, France — The Belly, And Proud Of It

    Lyon cooks from the heart. I go to a bouchon like Café des Fédérations or Daniel et Denise. Quenelles in sauce, porky bits, and a glass of Beaujolais. It’s heavy. It’s happy. At Les Halles de Lyon Paul Bocuse, I snack as I walk: oysters, cheese, cured meats. I take a praline brioche to go and nibble all day. For a deeper dive into why the city prizes these comforting plates, skim through Lyon’s rich gastronomy and you’ll see how tradition flavors every forkful.

    • Don’t miss: Salade Lyonnaise with a soft egg on top
    • Heads up: Service windows are strict. Come on time and hungry.

    Naples, Italy — The Crust Tells You Everything

    I stood outside L’Antica Pizzeria Da Michele for a long time. Then I ate the whole margherita. The crust had that soft leopard char. The sauce tasted like sun. At Sorbillo, the line moved fast, and the pie was big and playful. For a snack, I grab a folded fried pizza at Zia Esterina. Hot. Salty. Perfect for a walk.

    Sweet bite? Sfogliatella at Attanasio. The layers crack, the ricotta is sweet but not too sweet.

    • Don’t miss: Espresso at the bar—short and bold
    • Heads up: Chaos and scooters. Keep calm and keep going.

    Berlin, Germany — Street Food With a Pulse

    Berlin is casual and straight-up fun. Mustafa’s Gemüse Kebap? It’s famous for a reason. Juicy, crunchy, fresh. At Markthalle Neun on Street Food Thursday, I graze until I need a nap. Kanaan serves warm hummus that feels like a hug. For pastry, I like Princess Cheesecake. Slice first, regret later. If you want context beyond the street eats, this snapshot of Berlin's cuisine explains the city’s knack for mixing comfort food with global flavors.

    • Don’t miss: Curry 36 for currywurst after a late night
    • Heads up: Some places take cash only. Check before you order.

    Quick Tips I Learned the Hard Way

    • Eat early or very late to dodge lines
    • One fancy meal per city, max, keeps the budget sane
    • Markets make great breakfasts
    • Share plates; try more things
    • Ask locals where they eat on their day off

    While food keeps my days busy, nights in unfamiliar hotel rooms can get, well, quiet. If you’re over 18 and looking for a way to kill a little downtime with something more interactive than yet another Netflix scroll, skim this detailed [Jerkmate review](https://instantchat