What’s the best local dish you’ve ever eaten while traveling?
Hunger breeds discontent—but to the people, food is heaven. Yet for many, cost dictates choice. So “the best” can mean best value, best taste, or simply the most deeply enjoyed.
About twenty years ago, I travelled to Beijing with my brother’s family. On the day we visited the Great Wall, the temperature plummeted below zero. By the time we reached the entrance, it had crept up to two degrees Celsius—but the wind was vicious, the cold bone-deep. My brother and his children had to buy woollen balaclavas and scarves just to brave the uphill walk.
When we finally descended, we stumbled into a humble local shop—sparse decor, a short menu. My brother ordered a few simple hot dishes. After giving thanks to God, he turned to us and said, “It’s a simple meal, but hot enough to warm our frozen bodies. Yet nothing matters more than family together.” Before the first dish arrived, his words had already warmed me through.
For me, that was the best local meal I have ever eaten while travelling—not for its taste, nor its price, but for the love we shared in that bitter weather, and for the love and grace of God that held us safe in Him.
Recalling this brings Scripture to mind: Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” (Matthew 4:4) God’s words are love-words—they transcend all life.
To me, the true best dish is not one that surpasses love, but one that embodies love that surpasses all. I long for that love-dish cooked by the Lord of Love Himself—the grilled fish Jesus prepared for His disciples by the Sea of Galilee, before His ascension (John 21:1–13). And I long for the day I dine with Him face to face.
May the poem below light my way—and yours.
——
✨ Love Warms My Heart ✨
What to eat, what to wear—
grasp one, and still we crave for more—
matter churns, a restless score.
Who stoops to earth sees not the sky—
earth marks its bounds; the heavens fly.
Above, below, the bitter wind blows—
who shields my steps, who guards my way?
Shall sunlight thaw this heart of clay?
Or wool and scarf keep frost at bay?
Come—
a bowl of steaming egg-drop brew,
a plate of fragrant rice, still new—
family gathered, warm and true—
this love, it warms me through and through.
And with the One Love close beside—
through rain and mist, through wind and tide—
our steps, though small, still stride and stride—
together, forward, none divide.
——✨
en yan hua fang 