A dark emerald puck on a white plate – our spoons disturbed its surface to break it down to its crystal components. Bright shards of green ice released their flavour as they melted on our tongues – vegetal, flowery, herbal, slightly honeyed and a lot saltier then any dessert should be. We didn’t know what to expect when we ordered the savoury borage-and-lovage sorbet; we didn’t expect to be transported to a place of infinite green – a virgin forest, a field in spring, an alpine valley. We were in Estela (pictured top), a restaurant on the Lower East Side of Manhattan that is a favourite of ours. It is just as good as it was when we first went there, almost a decade ago. Around us, the understated room was full of achingly stylish people. Outside on the street, two shirtless older men were playing checkers on a bench while two girls in skintight dresses did TikTok poses on a nearby stoop. Neither group seemed disturbed when a woman in a bathrobe suddenly began to shout at a garbage bag and kick it with force.

We were there to promote our latest book, and had not been since before Covid, so we did not know what to expect. There is no doubt that the US is in a very strange moment in its history, and from Britain things look scary and confusing. But we learned, yet again, that things seem different when you are up close, and that food is always the best, quickest and deepest way to connect to people. For instance, a breakfast TV presenter in Chicago secretly confessed that no one in the city really likes deep-dish pizza; instead, we were sent to a farm-to-table restaurant that served us delicious Greek-style pasta.

Boston, meanwhile, was full of kilts and the sound of bagpipes for Scotland’s World Cup game, and some of its bars ran out of beer. The wife of an organic farmer told us at a farmers’ market how hard the work is, and how happy they are to do it, as we were eating their cherries – big as apricots, bright red, sweet and tart and perfect. At another stall we drank skin-contact wine made in Massachusetts, and we loved it. New York, for us, was bagel and smoked salmon at Russ & Daughters; walking past the queue at Katz’s Delicatessen, looking at the people who will have what she’s having; and, of course, that pure, transporting moment in Estela.

Wherever your view of America’s politics (and coffee culture), it is worth remembering, on its 250th anniversary, that there is a lot to love about the US – its people and its food: from southern soul to Jewish deli; from burgers and barbecue to meatloaf, spaghetti meatballs and mac and cheese; not to mention a choice of pies, straight up, or a la mode for dessert (any filling you like, as long as it’s apple).

Brunch banquet | Our book tour also took us north to Scotland. Edinburgh has long been one of our favourite food cities, and lately it seems as if the scene is turbocharged – with local talent shining brightest. Roberta Hall McCarron is a legend in the food world: her Little Chartroom serves some of the finest food in the land and her cookbook, The Changing Tides, is a love poem to Scotland. But it was brunch at her more casual offering, Ardfern, that won our hearts – very rarely do you get food of such quality before noon.

Love at first bite | The Palmerston gave us such a warm welcome, and then we ate the food: bread so good it should not be legal and cooking that wears its brilliance with casual cool. If that wasn’t enough, our winsome waiter, bespectacled and tattooed, sent us off with a little note listing three places we could go to for a late dinner. At the top was Kome, a tiny, charming place serving some of the best Japanese food we’ve had, with seriously delicious cocktails.

after newsletter promotion

Capital cuisine | With stalwart favourites such as Cafe St Honore and Noto, along with the cutest cookbook shop, we wonder if the UK’s food capital is a lot farther north than assumed …