Bee T r avel
Have food, will travel
CHRISTINE HICKS- USTA
You're likely finishing off the remains of your turkey, the Thanksgiving holiday another

culinary memory. This first of great seasonal feasts falls so close to so many others, it feels at times cast off as quickly as the carcass it generates. After so many Thanksgivings, they begin to run together.

That got me to thinking about what constitutes a memorable meal - what were the circumstances, and where they occurred. As I think on this, I sense in myself already the unfair advantage this placed on family gatherings, taking perhaps a second seat to stand-out memories. That's true, though the underlying familiarity at familial gatherings holds its own on its own, regardless the place or time.

My most memorable meals have been - what else? - out on the road. They involved too much money and none at all. They were always with someone, and happy. These meals keep well, in my memory.

My most romantic meal was in, of all places, Las Vegas. My future husband and I dined at an off-the-strip restaurant unaffiliated with any hotel. We dressed up. Our meal was outstanding, though what I recall particularly was how incredibly delicious the bottled water tasted. Now as I type this, I realize how odd that sounds, as if perhaps there might have been involvement of weed or something. I assure you this was not the case, though I could further assure you I would have known the difference. (Is there a statute of limitations...?) No, this was a case of something so delicious at that convergence of the perfect person in the perfect place at the perfect time. The water was delicious. (Regrettably, the restaurant has closed, and I failed to get the name of the water - not that it would have tasted the same even a day later.)

My most delicious meal was in Paris, in one of so many bistros on the Ile de St. Louis. This was my first trip to Paris. A group of travel agents con verged on two tiny side by side bistros too small for us all, so we split over both. As a group, we were bound only for a moment, friends on the journey, commonly bound by our business. This was less the people than it was the food. In caricature like fashion, black-and-white bedecked waiters returned from the kitchen to our table with wine, lobster in wine sauce, more wine, characteristic French bread, wine, and my first bite of crme brulee. Though unfashionable now, the swirls of cigarette smoke added ambiance to an evening unforgettable. The French truly do have the ultimate way with food.

I've had Mateus Rose in Portugal, poi and a "Blue Hawaiian" in Hawaii, baby octopus in Hong Kong (well, I didn't actually eat it), and beef stroganoff in Russia. These trite treats serve up memories as well. What all these have in common, I suspect, is that, at each, I stopped in the moment long enough to give thanks for it.

Share your most memorable meals with me - chickswrites@yahoo.com.

(Christine Hicks-Usta has enjoyed more than 30 years of globetrotting as a member of the travel industry in various capacities. Direct questions to her at Bee Group Newspapers, P.O. Box 150, Buffalo, N.Y. 14231-0150.)