Words by Emma Joyce · Published on 16 Apr 2026
On my last trip to France I made my partner come with me on a pilgrimage to Saint-Malo, the home of Bordier butter, because I just wanted to see it in the flesh. I think I bought 15 types of butter and ate them all over France during that trip. I would do it again too.
Charcoal-grilled whole turbot at Elkano in Getaria, Spain. It’s just outside San Sebastián and I go to other steak and seafood asado and parilla restaurants around there. Six of my favourite restaurants in the world are within an hour’s drive: Etxebarri, Txispa, Bar Nestor, Casa Julian, Kaia-Kaipe and Laia.
Coctel Mixto (seafood cocktail) at Holbox in Los Angeles. LA is known for its tacos and regional Mexican food from Oaxacan to Sonora to Baja, but this Yucatán-style seafood spot stands out. Holbox focuses on fresh, vibrant seafood with ingredients from California and the (invisible) border that make the tacos, tostadas and ceviches exceptional. The Coctel Mixto, served with salted crackers and a Mexican coke, is simple, bright and memorable.
When I lived in Istanbul, on the weekend we’d walk home from bars down İstiklal Caddesi, the main street running through the city centre. Street food vendors would line our walk home, and eating from them was always the most fun part of the night. My favourite, favourite thing to buy was chicken pilaf. Buttery-rich rice, cooked in chicken stock and butter, chickpeas and shredded chicken. So simple but so decadent and all the more delicious for its surroundings.
I absolutely love going to the dampa, or wet market, on the picturesque island of Boracay in the Philippines. There are stunning lobsters, an incredible array of fish, crabs to your heart’s desire! Grab a live mud crab and take it to a restaurant nearby where you get to choose how they’ll cook it. My favourite is ginataan, where the crabs are simmered with insanely good freshly pressed coconut milk, young jackfruit, and ginger and chilli, in its most basic form. That over a mound of steaming hot rice and a beautiful sunset.
Many years ago I travelled to Tuscany, to the village of Colonnata near Carrara, where I had their lardo with local bread and tomatoes. It was once a simple lunch for marble quarry workers and it was completely transformative. It was cured in what looked like a marble sarcophagus, with a thick black line of spice running through each translucent slice. The texture, depth of flavour and the way it melted on the tongue, all anchored in that incredible place, stayed with me. I would go back in a heartbeat.
Fatteh with awarma from El Soussi in Beirut. It’s everything. Crunchy fried Lebanese bread on the base, soft, moreish chickpeas straight from the pot layered with cold, silky garlic and tahini yoghurt, then finished with a shower of hot ghee, pine nuts and rich preserved lamb fat, making a spectacle on the plate when it comes into contact with the cold yoghurt. The shop itself is a hole in the wall – in the most literal sense – tucked deep into the backstreets. I think about it often.
Last year my partner and I ate at Elkano in San Sebastián and I still think about the kokotxas (cod tongue) chef and owner Aitor Arregi served us. They came three ways: one in a rich pil pil (sauce); one lightly battered in a traditional Basque style; and one simply grilled over fire. Each version showcased a completely different texture, from silky and gelatinous to crisp and smoky. It was a masterclass in restraint and technique, letting the ingredient speak.
I’d travel to Japan to eat yakitori. We ate at Yakitori Omino for [my partner] Grace’s birthday. It has only 14 seats, one chef cooking. No question, it is the best yakitori I’ve eaten in my life. Every skewer is an art, a decades-long commitment. You can taste, see and feel the perfection in every bite. Every part of the chicken is cooked to perfection, with minimal seasoning. Chicken is just different in Japan. So tasty!
The most pillowy and light gnocchi from Trattoria da Cesare al Pellegrino in Rome. Found on the menu only on a Thursday, as per tradition, their gnocchi is served in a rich sugo from which their coda alla vaccinara (oxtail stew) or beef involtini is cooked in. I love the dining room too – they’ve kept many of the original mid-century features of Settimio al Pellegrino, the much-loved restaurant which stood in the same location for almost 100 years. I always finish a meal here with a slice of crostata di ricotta e visciole – a very Roman tart filled with sour cherry jam and ricotta. Absolute perfection!
The Pennicott seafood tour off Bruny Island, Tasmania – there really isn’t a better lunch. You’re eating oysters, mussels and abalone straight from the ocean, it doesn’t get any fresher. It’s a reminder that when produce is that good, simplicity wins every time. I’ve done it twice, and would happily go back to Tassie and do it all over again.
When I first visited Dubrovnik, I skipped the tourist spots and followed locals to Gverović Orsan in Zaton Mali. Built into stone by the sea, it felt timeless. We swam before dinner, dried in the sunset, and watched fishermen head out with lights for squid and octopus. The kitchen’s charcoal smoke, cool water and crisp graševina (white wine) set the scene. Niko Jr and his mother Mira served black rice with locally caught shells and delicate red fish. Then came finger mussels – foraged and rarely served – steamed with wine, garlic and herbs.
I often dream about flying across the world to a small town called Bra, Italy, where I studied my master’s. There’s a restaurant there, Boccondivino, that serves what I still think are the best agnolotti del plin (stuffed fresh pasta) tossed in roasted meat juices. Or their tajarin “40 yolks” with Bra sausage sauce. I think about those two dishes often and, truthfully, so much of the food from that town. They’re both Piedmont specialities. I’m planning to get back there soon – literally to eat these two dishes.
Carbonara at Roscioli Ristorante in Rome. It couldn’t be more simple, but everything about it is spot on. It’s balanced, rich without being heavy, and satisfying in a way that feels complete. The room itself is filled with salumi, and there’s a sense of history and purpose to the place that adds to the experience. Rome’s long, layered history is part of the draw, but this is the plate I keep thinking about. It’s not overworked or overthought. I’d jump on a flight in a heartbeat to have it again.
As a recently anointed Melburnian, I want to shine a light on a place very dear to me and [my wife] Jaclyn. Spice I Am in Sydney’s Surry Hills has a few dishes that make me want to hop on a plane immediately. The one we pine for the most, especially when we were living in Los Angeles, is their yum pla krob (crispy fish salad). It has crunchy fried tiny dried whole fish with cashews, a zingy, spicy AF dressing, herbs, shallots and chilli. It’s an absolute banger. Crunchy, spicy, juicy, fragrant, delicious.
I’ve always got Georgia on my mind. I’ll be taking a taxi straight from the airport up the hill to where the funicular sets off, where a little stand grills khachapuri na shampuri (Georgian cheese bread) – a skewer of sulguni cheese wrapped in a yeasted dough, cooked over charcoal until it’s all melty cheese oozing out of smoky, chewy dough. The best!
My wife and I went to San Sebastián on our honeymoon and we visited, famed for its burnt Basque cheesecake. It was unforgettable – rows of cheesecakes in paper and foil, with the most incredible scent filling the room. There was no ceremony, just a simple slice served at the bar, yet I’ll always remember the first bite. The cheesecake was deeply caramelised on the outside and impossibly creamy within. Paired with Pedro Ximénez sherry, it was pure indulgence.
Years ago I took a six-month trip around Europe, bright-eyed, ready to eat (and party). I remember walking around the streets of Barcelona, pre-smart phone and Google Maps, stumbling upon Can Paixano. It was heaving. Legs of jamon hung from the ceiling and it was so warm the fat dripped down onto us. I saw people eating this roll – it was bocadillo de lomo, a crusty white knot roll with a slice of warm cured ham that had a huge bit of fat around the rim, and some marinated peppers. It was warm, fatty, salty, sweet. I think it was my first proper ‘wow’ moment with food.
Melbourne is a food destination that never stops inspiring me. On a recent visit, two dishes stood out at Cumulus Inc: tuna tartare with goat’s cheese, peas and mint; and roast chicken with sweet corn, tarragon and shishito peppers. The cooking is simple, seasonal and produce-driven. The tartare was fresh and balanced, while the chicken delivered warmth, tenderness and depth.
Quotes have been edited for length and clarity.
This story is part of Broadsheet’s special Travel Issue, presented by Commonwealth Bank and Travel Booking via the CommBank app.
About the author
Emma Joyce is a freelance writer and Broadsheet’s former features editor.
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