I love to cook (in case it wasn’t already obvious) – chopping and stirring, kneading and sauteing, it all gives me tremendous comfort and enjoyment. Buuuut… I’m also a big fan of kicking back with a glass of champagne, and let world-class hospitality experts stuff you full of lobster profiteroles, salmon and caviar, and chocolate-covered strawberries?

So, I’ve never been much of a gambling fan (if I can’t eat it, wear it, or visit it, I don’t want to spend money on it), but, after my first fun (not work) trip last week, Vegas has grown considerably in my estimation for 3 reasons:

hospitality |ˌhäspiˈtalitē| the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.

It has been said that great service can save bad food, but that great food can not save bad service. Recollections of Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi aside, I find that this adage of the hospitality industry to be both true and almost altogether dismissed by the industry itself. This is an industry that creates an elite of those that will spend a fortune to get a noteworthy designer to create ambience, stock 50 kinds of premium vodka behind the bar, and source its pig from farms down the street, yet it seems to take the most perfunctory and dismissive attitude towards the service it provides.

Congratulations Budapest, you did it!

Yes, Budapest, you bested me…. you served me something that I could not only not stomach, but had to politely, and as discreetly as possible, spit into my napkin.

Now, before I describe this offensive spread, which, along with gifelte fish, deserves its own Fear Factor episode, I will proudly state that I am not easily offended in the culinary department. I’ve watched Anthony Bourdain eat a live snakes heart and throught “Damn, I want to DO that!” There are foods I don’t care for, but very little that I can’t or won’t eat. Until this past week, the list was restricted to the aforementioned gefilte fish, but no more….

As I did with our Spain trip in the Spring, I’ve posted a few of my favorite dishes from our Vienna & Budapest trip below.

One of the most special meals was at Baraka, a restaurant that Concierge.com called the best restaurant east of the Iron Curtain. While the food was not as technically accomplished as I would have expected, the ambience was lovely, service beyond reproach, and, for such an elegant restaurant, a lot of fun.

When PT suggested Vienna and Budapest for our latest vacation, I couldn’t sign up fast enough. Vienna has been on my list of places to go since I was eight years old and caught glimpses of the beautiful and tragic Amadeus on TV. Since that moment, Vienna has embodied for me everything that a city should be – sumptuous, brooding, refined, and cultured. My fantasy was augmented by its reputation for world-renowned music and opera, their elevation of the hot dog and sausage to high cuisine, and, of course, the coffee.

When I started spending more time in airports than on my laptop… I`m writing from an internet cafe on our first full day in Vienna, getting ready to glut myself on gooey pastries and world class coffee for the next 3 days before we head off to Budapest.

It was no small feat getting here, made only slightly less small by a frustrating European airline that begins with Air and ends in France, but we are here, and already thinking that Vienna might be the dark horse of European cuisine.

Using no more than our Lonely Planet Guide to Vienna, we found a charming and convivial pub/restaurant just a short evening stroll from our apartment.

Being a food writer(ish) comes with its privileges. My darling, thoughtful, and generous friend, Dez, got me a pass for Taste of the Nation in Boston a couple of weeks ago. The irony of this event is that attendees glut themselves to an extreme rarely seen outside of a Roman vomitorium in an effort to bring awareness to and alleviate childhood hunger. Irony (and attending guilt) aside, it was a flawlessly executed event, with over 100 Boston restaurants, wineries, and food purveyors offering their fare for attendees to nibble (read: gorge) on. And, the best part is the proceeds go to Share Our Strength and combat childhood hunger.

I don’t want to bore you to death with details of our wonderful trip to Spain, but a web log of some of the more interesting dining experiences does seem warranted, or will at least allow me to justify the 10 pounds I packed on there.

I had studied in Spain a number of years ago, and, while excited to return, speak the language (i.e. show-off in front of PT), and re-visit a number of my favorite sites and cities, I was apprehensive about the gastronomic experience. As a poor student, I had subsisted on low-quality, hastily prepared chicken croquetas (essentially, chicken fingers with cream of chicken, instead of whole meat), tortilla espanola, and ooey-gooey pastries. The last two were quite good, but not exactly a well-rounded diet for 10 days.

A brief guide to getting a great value when dining out.

Bostonians have an odd sense of fiscal responsibility. It’s a schizophrenic sort of frugality, where we ruthlessly seek out bargains for the mundane, but spend lavishly on those items deemed worthy.

For example, my dear friend LN will think nothing of topping off a delicious Sunday brunch with a new Milly dress, yet she still tries to use her student ID (from 2004) to get $1 off at her yoga studio, and is indignant if her attempts are thwarted.

In other words, as individuals we determine which items are a worthy luxury and spend freely on them, and everything else is subject to relentless bargain-hunting.