Where to begin looking? The easy answer is my fellow travel and food writers, who quickly responded with various suggestions. A ‘retweet’ or two later from foodies eager to share their London knowledge, and I had a page full of local recommendations. Twitter is almost like having a friend in every city in the world.

Now I had a place to begin. A few restaurants were recommended by more than one writer, so I began my hunt there. I then narrowed the list down by neighborhood, access to the Tube, and sample menus online. This kind of preparation for a restaurant visit only heightens my anticipation: I was looking forward not only to the food, but strolling along Portobello Road through Notting Hill and browsing through the nearby travel bookstore and antique shops.

When you take a recommendation, there’s always a chance you are going to be supremely disappointed. This couldn’t of been farther from the truth the moment I stepped into Electric Brasserie: the sharply-dressed staff was welcoming and led the way through the buzzing restaurant to a free table right next to the open kitchen. 

People have different opinions on an open kitchen, but I love them. Before I even glanced at the menu I was tempted by the dishes being passed from chef to waiter right before my eyes. An open kitchen indulges all the senses: a burst of fragrance, a beautiful arrangement on the plate, a smile on the face of a satisfied chef. It took a few moments before I could focus on the varied menu in front of me.

While we decided, the bartender prepared my white peach bellini. Sipping my refreshing drink I realized the appeal of Electric Brasserie is not only the comfortable atmosphere and cool factor, but the presence of an option for every appetite on the menu. This solved one of the ultimate problems of trying to plan a brunch for a group of people: where can one person get poached eggs, and another a steak? Electric Brasserie took this concept a step further, and also offers small plates and options to share for two (beyond their regular brunch menu, starters, and tempting mains).

I walked in with a sweet tooth, and wound up being distracted by the mains on the counter next to me. We started with 1/2 dozen wild Colchester oysters: an ideal pairing for a celebratory occasion. After snacking on some hummus and flat bread, we broke open a bottle of Argentine wine to accompany our mains. I chose the sirloin steak sandwich with caramelised onion rings & gruyere: a gooey and satisfying afternoon treat.

Desserts were just as seductive with options including vanilla pannacotta with blood orange and chocolate fudge brownie with pistachio ice cream. Afterwards, the Notting Hill neighborhood is a picturesque spot for an afternoon stroll. 

For me, Electric Brasserie struck the perfect balance between casual and trendy, lively and intimate, and that hard to find ‘something for everyone’ menu. Thank you to my fellow ‘tweeps’ for a wonderful recommendation – my foodie birthday brunch in London is one I won’t soon forget!

I was too busy taking pictures of quaint Frascati to notice that all the locals were in their seats for lunch.

Getting on the local schedule almost always guarantees finding the type of atmosphere that will bring a destination to life. Before you plan your next trip to any European city – do some research on local habits. What types of meals do they eat? (Small breakfast? Lunch as biggest meal of the day? Very late dinner?) What time are meals served? Are shops closed for siesta?

Over the last years I’ve found this out the hard way. Italy is a great example of the benefits of being on the local schedule. One afternoon, I was enjoying the sunny streets of a quaint town outside Rome called Frascati. We probably arrived on the train from Rome around noon, and thought we would wander around for a while before sitting down to lunch.

If I’d had a closer look, I probably would have noticed that right around 12, the tables were starting to fill with local people sitting down for their afternoon meal. At 2pm when we were ready to sit down for lunch, many doors had ‘closed’ signs hanging in the windows, and tables were finishing up espresso, not digging into pasta.

Fountain in the main piazza, Frascati.

After about the 5th or 6th restaurant we were turned away from, we started to lose hope. Bakeries were closed too – our plan B of just grabbing some bread or pastries to hold us over until dinner was failing miserably. 

Luckily, we turned a corner to see one last bright awning. At this point the clock was approaching 2:30, and I realized that we were no longer in the cosmopolitan city of Rome where we could always find something to eat. On first glance – there was no closed sign on the door, and with the ring of a bell, we walked inside.

It was exactly the restaurant I’d been hoping to find: small wooden tables, decorated with family heirlooms, and a glimpse into the kitchen in the back. There were only two tables that were occupied – one with a couple who were finishing up their main courses, and the table in the corner where the family who owned the restaurant were sitting down to their own meal.

Just as the chef was about to tell me they were closed, I smiled. Next I practiced my limited Italian to say, ‘Are you open, please?’ He directed us to a table nearby, and looking at the table next to us, I pointed at the dish the gentleman was having. Pleased with our quick order, the chef went back into the kitchen to whip up our lunch.

His three-year old daughter Isabella was shy when we first arrived, but after a few minutes she was running around the restaurant, playing with my scarf, even delivering bread. What came to the table next was one of the best meals I had during my entire few months in Italy. A handmade twisted pasta had the perfect rough texture to pick up a creamy, cheesy, bubbly sauce. Pan seared pancetta, onions, tomatoes, and other garden vegetables kept the dish light. 

1 Euro Coffee, Brilliant.

It could have been my extreme hunger at this point – but the red house wine and this plate of pasta is one of my most distinct memories of my time in Italy. As it turns out, the couple sitting next to us spoke some English, and served as translators with the chef and his family. We sat almost until the restaurant was opening again for dinner, lingering over our wine, followed by strong coffee. 

This was the Italy I had traveled to find – focused on family, good food, good company. While this story has a happy ending – I definitely learned my lesson about getting on the local schedule. When I’m in Italy, I make sure I’ve got my seat for lunch by 1pm. I don’t want to miss out on any of the atmosphere by being late.

When the weekend papers arrive, I skip all the recession-related bad news and go straight for the travel section. The photographs are like reading a menu at a great new restaurant you’ve been dying to try – and the articles help you decide what to order. But the papers come every week, and the list of ‘Next Trip’ keeps getting longer.

Fjords of Norway

To complicate this even further, my freelance work extends to researching and writing about places I haven’t yet been. It can be a rainy, dark November day outside my window in Dublin – but I might be engrossed in reading about the beaches and culture of Thailand. This ‘escape’ during the day is a blessing and a curse, as it continuously adds to the list of places I want to get to… soon.

So here’s my MOST WANTED list – places I’m going to try and squeeze in, in the next, year? (I like to be ambitious…)

1. Norway: Just this week I finished up a series of articles about Norway. I had no idea that the city of Oslo was only a two-hour flight from London, and that many budget airlines are extending service to the Norwegian capital. I had no clue that affordable ferries follow the same routes along the Norwegian coast that cruise ships do; providing a budget approach to touring the fjords. And while I did know about the quality of the salmon and other fish that are plentiful in Norway’s waters – this just wasn’t enough by itself to convince me to book a trip. The first picture I saw of the fjords made this Scandinavian destination shoot up to the top of my list.

St Basil's Cathedral, Red Square, Moscow

3. Chile: I’ve been thinking about adventure vacations lately. While I’m all for a much-needed week on a sandy beach, swimming in the warm Caribbean waters, I’ve also wanted to add certain adventure activities to the ‘things I don’t do at home’ list that inspires vacations. I recently finished up a series of articles about adventure activities in Chile, and I was seriously interested in certain kayaking tours on offer in Patagonia. This experience allows travelers to get intimate with the landscape, all with the assistance of an experienced guide who can fill in the gaps.

4. Valencia, Spain: Valencia is the hometown of Paella, need I say more?! Beside my culinary interest, this city in Spain has everything in a getaway I could ask for. Unlike another Spanish city I love, Sevilla, Valencia is on the sea. The city has a beautiful old quarter, home to buildings on the UNESCO world heritage list. A combination of good food, cultural history, and manageable size (so I don’t feel tempted to do too much, returning home more exhausted than when I left…) make this city in Spain an appealing destination for me.

Plaza in Valencia

What are your current travel dreams? Share your MOST WANTED below.

During time spent traveling, it is possible to hone your kindness radar: you learn over time what sort of people to ask for directions, when to be sure they haven’t a clue what they’re talking about, and when to trust some sort of inner compass that 90% of the time leads you in the right direction.

Overlooking the Rhine River on a misty October day.

So next time you’re traveling, rather than being the person standing in the city square with a big map and confused look on your face, ask somebody for directions. The first time I was asked for directions, I was in the leafy neighborhood of Ballsbridge, outside the center of Dublin. I had just moved over, was only beginning to explore the city myself – but a student asked me which direction the American embassy was, and I knew. It was strange to be the person being asked, and not the asker – but it also felt great (after a year of not knowing where I was going..) to point her in the right direction.

My first year in Europe was filled with moments that revealed the kindness of strangers – the kind of moments that make even us northeastern-New-Yorker-types a bit less cynical. Selflessly helping others can be a pleasure in itself. This concept may have eroded over time, but that’s one of the things travel does best: it reminds us of things the daily grind has weathered away.

Once in a while, I’ll feature just how the generosity of strangers made a difference to two girls wandering the continent. Here’s the first one:

Bacharach, Germany: A chill had just arrived in the October air in Germany’s Rhine Valley. One evening, after a day of hiking and observing the harvest, I was seated in a beautiful beer garden in the center of town. Worn wooden furniture was spread haphazardly over matted down grass, and one charismatic waiter was taking care of the few customers.

After introducing ourselves, the waiter could see we wanted to taste the wines of the region. He arranged an affordable wine flight, to share with us his love of local wines. And while this act was kind, what I remember best is the two women who walked through the door next.

Two American women walked into the restaurant, and after hearing English in a sea of German speakers, we invited them to join us. They ordered a similar wine flight, and we discussed backpacking, Germany, the harvest, and encountering Americans abroad. Tasting many varieties of wine, we shared stories from our journey, the women gave advice they learned over years of travel, and we had lots of laughs.

After the wine, we accepted an invitation to dinner. Sitting down to a table in a nearby restaurant, next to the warmth of a hearth, we ate a rich, satisfying German meal, thanks to the generosity of our new friends. They told us to order whatever we’d like: a welcome change for the backpacker who consistently orders soup and maybe a side dish.

Before leaving that night, the two women made us promise to do the same sometime in the future – when we had the money, when we encountered two young travelers on the road, to provide them with an evening away from backpacking, an evening to feel at home and relaxed over a meal. 

I’m not quite there yet, but someday, I’ll do the same for two young backpackers taking their first steps into Europe.