Traveling anywhere in the world today, in my book, means a constant, frustrating search for authenticity. It is easier than ever to fall into the traps of non-local food, or “local” food generated for tourists. The gastronomic traveler always wants to avoid these, always wants to find instead the equivalent of what the local mamas are cooking at home, which usually ain’t easy. But if you don’t stick to this discipline…the world becomes a blur, and you might as well stay at home.
Things are no different on the island of Curaçao, deep in the southern Caribbean, 38 miles north of the coast of Venezuela–where I visited.
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