What's a 14 course meal without an appetite, and a camera?

When I was invited to experience a 14-course dinner, my first thought was YES! But after I accepted, I couldn't help but wonder - could I really eat 14 different dishes? Not one to shy away from a challenge, I filed that thought way in the back of my head. However on the day of the dinner, it found it's way to the front again, and I couldn't help to try and save my appetite by only eating little bits here and there.

Click on the image to see all 14 courses.

Any sacrifices I made that day were well worthwhile, but thankfully, all of the food was perfectly portioned so that a normal human being could make room for all of it. The restaurant where I dined, Le Chique at the Azul Sensatori Hotel in Riviera Maya, Mexico, explains the concept like this:

"Our theory of small portions, just as the diversity of products and techniques is what makes a 14 courses menu into a real culinary experience in the Mayan Riviera.

Foams, bubbles, spheres, fake caviar, balloons, inverse Ravioli, cooking with Liquid Nitrogen…these are some of the forefront culinary techniques used at Le Chique through our 14 unique creations."

Intrigued? Then come along with me, bite by bite, as I show you what my taste buds experienced and my camera captured. Click here to start.

My weakness for junk food knows no borders

Every foodie has a guilty pleasure. Mine is junk food. When I’m at home, I do a good job of eating it sparingly, but when I travel, curiosity gets the best of me, and I end up in convenience stores checking out what the locals snack on when they get the munchies.

And that’s how I found myself at Wal-Mart in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. Well, no, that’s a lie. I was told that it was the place to go to find good deals on a variety of tequilas, but while I was there, I was determined to find Mexican junk food.

So after picking out a $15 bottle of tequila (sadly, the $2 bottles were all sold out) and laughing at the strategically placed clip of Advil in the tequila aisle (yes, an entire aisle), I went on a junk food shopping spree.

The junk food at a Mexican Wal-Mart is not all that different from what you find in a Canadian Wal-Mart, and I won’t pretend that it’s a genuine cultural experience, but it was fun nonetheless. We have Tostitos in Canada. But do we have Flamin’ Hot Tostitos? And even if we do, surely, Flamin’ Hot must mean something different in Mexico than it does at home. And although I wouldn’t get to try it out until I got home, I couldn’t resist buying a variety of flavoured microwave popcorn packages. Even plain old popcorn sounds like an exotic treat; Mantequilla just means butter in Spanish, but it really does make it seem a lot more interesting.

Back at the hotel room, I begin indulging in my treats. Turns out the Flamin’ Hot Tostitos are appropriately named and tasty, and I’m glad to have a bottle of water nearby. The gum is really just Bubblelicious, but when you rename it Bubbaloo, it lends a whole new dimension of fun to the pink chewing gum. And my Bubu Lubu treat, which is really like a Viva Puff cookie with the marshmallow center and chocolate coating, brings a smile to my face when I look at the cute cartoon man on the packaging.

So tonight, in the comfort of my living room and thanks to the convenience of my microwave, I’ll be getting a taste of Mexico in the form of popcorn. Guilty pleasure? Yes. A little embarrassing for a food blog writer? Kind of. Tasty? You bet!

Good Morning, Gourmet

I did a really typical Canadian thing earlier this month – I went on an all-inclusive vacation to Mexico. Normally, us Canucks tend to head south for the sun, not the food, but this trip was a most pleasant exception to that rule.

Known as a “Gourmet Inclusive” resort, the El Dorado Casitas Royale by Karisma Hotels & Resorts where I stayed boasts decadent cuisine and all the inclusions that any foodie could dream of. Having drooled over the brochure for weeks in anticipation before my trip, I’m very happy to say that they didn’t disappoint!

Cheese-lover's dream come true: the spread I found in my room every afternoon.

After waiting in line for hours in various airports on the day of my arrival, it was almost surreal to step into the hotel's gorgeous lobby, be handed a glass of champagne and have my bags taken off my hands - now that’s what I call making a very tired, travelling girl feel special! And imagine how excited this Frenchie was to find an elaborate cheese plate waiting in the room. But it didn’t stop there. About an hour before dinner, a plate of chocolate covered strawberries, mini-cheesecakes, truffles and other sweet treats were delivered to my room. And then there was the room service menu.

If you're going to snack before dinner, snack well!

Pooped from my day of travel, I decided to skip the resto and order room service, which is included as part of the Gourmet Inclusive concept. I was intrigued when 20 minutes later, a delicious dinner arrived to my room. It was literally food for thought; my brain really couldn’t come up with a pressing reason to get out of bed for breakfast the next day when I could get fabulous food delivered to me. And so, the next morning, I woke up to a knock on the door, a smiling waiter, and a spread of French toast, waffles, eggs, bacon, coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice… Ok, so maybe I overdid it a little.

In-room breakfast for two. Or heaven. Haven't quite decided yet.

The next morning, (and the one after that, and after that one), started off in a similar way, only my request was more reasonable: coffee, fresh fruit and French toast, which I had quickly deemed to be my favourite. But how could I even try to resist it; a mixture of cream cheese and sliced almonds sandwiched between two slices of lightly battered bread, toasted to perfection and of course, syrup!

One morning though, I made it a special point not to indulge in room service and to save my appetite for the resort’s Kampai restaurant, where I was meeting Jeroen Hanlo, Karisma's Vice President Food & Beverage Operations for a Q&A. When I get there, he asks if he can make a recommendation – Chilaquiles. They were delish, and traditional, which is nice to see at an all-inclusive resort, where most serve up American type breakfasts that we can easily find in our own fridges.

I learn some interesting stuff from Jeroen – although his staff make it look effortless, a lot goes into preparing the food that they deem deserving of the Gourmet Inclusive label. They cook with only the freshest ingredients and even have an herb garden on the resort. And their staff must all have a passion for food. Their chefs all have impressive culinary backgrounds, and each member of the wait staff undergoes several days of in-class and in-restaurant training to ensure they provide impeccable service. And is it all worthwhile? Judging by my waiter Leo’s attentive service, his genuine smile and my plated of polished off Chilaquiles, I would say so.

Not your ordinary fruitcake

I know it’s only November, but I have a confession to make. I’m a closet Christmas-a-holic.

That’s right. I’m not the type that breaks out the office Christmas décor November 1, but I will listen to Christmas carols when I’m alone at home, or in the car, and I’m secretly hoping my husband will bend his rule about not putting up the tree until Dec. 1.

The holidays are a foodie’s dream come true. Any indulgence is fair game at this time of year, and it’s also a time to embrace food from different cultures as we all seem to agree that regardless of religious affiliation, there is something to celebrate as the end of the year draws closer.

One Christmas tradition that seems to run through the Caribbean and has now become part of my family rituals in Black Cake. Similar in some ways to Fruit Cake that we see in North America, Black Cake is made of dried and candied fruit, eggs, butter and flour, and a lot of alcohol. Usually around this time of year, the soaking of the dried fruit begins as we anticipate the making of this holiday treat.

My Antiguan mother-in-law uses sherry for her Black Cake, which we served up at as a parting gift to our wedding guests earlier this year. However, each family and each island does their cake a little different, and in most parts, rum is the alcohol of choice for the cake, at least in the finishing stage. I dare you to find a Jamaican who thinks otherwise.

The soaking goes on for weeks, and months even. And then about a week before Christmas, the rest of the ingredients are added to the minced up fruit and Black Cake emerges from the oven, but it’s still not ready yet.

It has to be dampened with more alcohol, until Christmas. This is called "wetting the cake." Each day, the cake is taken out of its foil and plastic wrapping and a small amount of alcohol is poured over the cake, then it is flipped and more alcohol is poured over the bottom. It is then covered again, and put back into the refrigerator awaiting its next wetting. While in North America, the gift of fruit cake is often dreaded, the gift of Black Cake is a sign of great affection. The expense and work that goes into such a cake lets the recipient know just how special they are.

And if you get the chance to sample black cake while in the Caribbean you’ll taste not only the local flavour, but you’ll sample a little of their soul too.

My mother-in-law is the keeper of our family recipe, but the New York Times printed one that's pretty good.

Beware the Isle of the Minator!

It is an incontrovertible fact that tasting the flavours of any culture can be one of the most rewarding experiences in travel.

There is however, an exception to every incontrovertible fact I have ever uttered. Allow me to ‘controvert’.

I must start by noting that the Greeks make wonderful wine. The reds deserve attention. Xynomavro is a black grape of northern Greece that can yield serious wines, worthy of ageing. Agiorgitiko is a widely planted black Peloponnesian grape with considerable power.

In fact, the Greeks are credited with the invention of fermented grape juice.

There is also a white of the refreshing, vibrant and citrus flavoured Assyrtiko that comes from the island of Santorini. I love it.

Armed with all this information you would think that a man of my peculiar interests would be able to secure a decent glass of oenos (wine) anywhere in Greece. Think again.

Let the traveller beware! Any country that makes wine makes bad wine.

They have been making wine in Crete for about 4000 years. I can only guess that not much of it was white. I certainly hope not, for their sake.

There I was in Heraklion, Crete on a day that must have hit 35 degrees judging by the melting street signs. I looked like a man who has been caught in a downpour without an umbrella, only it hadn’t been raining. Suffice it say, it was hot and I wanted a glass of white.

The bottle would not disclose the grape variety but I forgave that because it is a peculiar trait of most European wines. Besides, I was too busy worrying about the taste. Not having consumed ear-wax, I can’t be entirely sure of my tasting note. It seems the minatory is not the only scary thing about Crete.

So here is my tip, and one I think we might focus on next time. Learn to like the taste of beer. It refreshes the palate and cools the head when these inevitable little pitfalls of travel conspire against the senses.

Yiamas! (Cheers!)