Food is so much a part of travel. The different specialties and cooking techniques, the aromas, the open-air cafes and pastry shop windows, the attitudes.

You remember your first velvety taste of gelato at that tiny shop near the Trevi Fountain in Rome that didn't even have a place to sit down; or the large lump crab cakes you ate while drinking in the salt air of the Chesapeake Bay; or the crispy fried alligator and key lime pie you gobbled down on the rickety deck overlooking a channel in the Florida Everglades.

Readers and Post-Gazette staffers share their unforgettable food encounters in these culinary postcards.

If you have one you'd like to share, e-mail the words and photos to food@post-gazette.com, or send a postcard to:

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TUSCANY

So charmed were we with the villages, countryside and food of Tuscany and Liguria that we have nightly tried to re-create our recent visit to Italy. While medieval bell towers and Renaissance cathedrals are rare (OK, non-existent) here, we have had better luck with the food. After years of whole wheat bread, we've even started eating processed flour again, so delicious was our daily focaccia.

Here's a civilized Tuscan ritual: large platters of antipasti greet bar patrons for their late afternoon aperitivo. These were a pleasant surprise after long days navigating the labyrinthine streets of perfectly preserved medieval towns.

In Lucca we sat in full view of San Frediano Cathedral, its striking Byzantine mosaic facade reflecting the late afternoon sun, watching elegantly dressed businessmen ride bicycles home while old friends chatted amicably and animatedly. We sat at outdoor tables by the Bar San Frediano -- only in Italy might you find bars named after churches -- perfectly content, grazing on olives, roasted peppers, thinly sliced meats, and always focaccia to soak up the region's wonderful olive oil. Having a drink in the shadow of such beauty was a privilege. And we still managed a full dinner later, reminding ourselves that we would "walk it off."

A simple Tuscan-style meal of antipasti for primo and grilled meat for secondi lends itself to this time of the year: Much can be prepared ahead of time, and practically everything can be cooked outdoors, keeping kitchens cool.

The bread, roasted peppers and marinated olives can all be prepared in advance. Adding fresh mozzarella, a ripe tomato and some Italian meats like salami or prosciutto fills out the antipasti course.

Grilled meat is a Tuscan specialty. We love lamb loin chops. I de-bone them and then use rosemary stems as kebab skewers. I often serve these with polenta (not Tuscan, but at least Italian).

FOCACCIA
Focaccia is essentially pizza dough and can be used as such. However, I prefer it in its original state, dimpled and drizzled with crunchy salt, olive oil and rosemary leaves. Start it in the morning and let it rise. With a mixer it takes 5 minutes and bakes in 20. The dough can be frozen and defrosted for future use.

Activate a teaspoon of yeast in a cup of warm water with a pinch of sugar.

Mix 3 cups of flour with two tablespoons of salt in bowl of mixer. (Dough can be made in food processor too). With motor running, drizzle in yeast-water.

After dough incorporates, turn out onto floured surface and knead for two minutes, adding a little water or flour as necessary to produce a fairly dry dough. Let this rest in an oiled, covered bowl until it rises.

Re-knead dough, then pull, stretch or roll it out into roughly oblong shape and place on a lightly oiled baking pan. Let it rise for an hour. Using your fingertips, dimple the dough evenly in rows, then add a good sprinkling of sea salt, fresh rosemary leaves stripped from stems, and olive oil, allowing it to pool in the wells. Save the rosemary stems for the lamb skewers.

Roast (or grill outside) in 425-degree oven for 18 to 22 minutes.

ANTIPASTI
For red peppers, char peppers on stove top, under the broiler or on a grill. When blackened, remove them to a bag and let them steam and cool. Slip off the charred skin and discard stem and seeds. Place pepper slices in bowl and cover with olive oil.

For olives, rinse off brine and dry. Add black pepper, lemon zest, pinch of thyme, pinch of red pepper flakes and lots of olive oil. This marinade will eventually make a delicious dip for bread, a salad dressing or base for a saute.

LAMB
Using a paring knife, carefully cut lamb away from loin bones. Season the medallions with salt and pepper and set aside for an hour. Soak rosemary stems in water.

Finely chop a shallot and add lemon zest, salt and pepper, a splash of wine or vinegar, and then whisk in some olive oil.

Prepare the kebabs: thread the lamb medallions onto the rosemary "skewer." You may have to use a traditional skewer to make an opening for the stem. Marinate for 30 minutes in the shallot mixture.

Preheat the grill to very hot. Sear the skewers for no more than two minutes per side; lamb is lean and will be tough if cooked above medium-rare.

Serve with polenta, which captures the lamb's juices as it rests on the plate.

For dessert go to Grasso Roberto Cafe in Pittsburgh's Bloomfield for gelato.

If you time your visit correctly, you can hear church bells. Close your eyes and you're back in Tuscany.

-- Daryl Cross and Susan Peake, Friendship

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MISSOURI

One of the most wonderful parts of traveling is discovering unique places that could never be duplicated back home.

Little Yeoman Brewery in Cabool is one of those places. Although tasting beer at 10:30 in the morning is not my idea of a great party, it was really the only time I could visit.

While staying in rural southern Missouri for a speaking gig, I was introduced to Chad Lewis Frederick, who is making incredible micro brews that can only be sampled by driving down the long gravel driveway off Road M in the town of Cabool in Texas County, Mo.

I was staying at Cedar Hill Farm Bed and Breakfast in nearby Mountain Grove, and it didn't take long for proprietor Brian Flaherty (a distant relative of the late Pittsburgh politico Pete Flaherty) to realize I was a beer snob. That was just one of the many things we had in common.

There was a place he had to show me, but the brewery had moved since he last stopped by, so we began our search. Even with the help of an entire staff of local auto mechanics, it took an hour to find his place.

We somehow missed the keg mailbox at the end of the drive.

Mr. Frederick learned to brew beer when he was 10; his father told him it was a skill that might come in handy some day. "As I grew a little older and developed a taste for beer, I decided to start home brewing."

Customers pull up to the cooler, which is situated in the middle of a farm field. Just in front of the cooler is a tent that shades the picnic table and chairs from the hot sun.

While trying to describe the ambience, he started with "it's fairly rustic" then corrected himself: "OK, really rustic. Hillbillyish. We prefer to be called 'Hill Williams' in the new millennium," he said, laughing.

Eventually he hopes to be able to sell his beer in bars (to franchise to the lower 48) and to put a restaurant on the current location. But for now the only way to get a glass of his beer is right here. He makes a cream ale that he calls "a wonderful dust cutter for summer," a pale ale and an India pale ale. The porter is a big seller and, he added, "It's so darn smooth it's scary, dangerously drinkable." He also makes a thick, rich stout.

People come from all over the country and world to sample his wares. A couple from Delaware drove 20-some cases back home with them. Another couple from Germany spent the weekend camping in the field across from the brewery and drank "copious amounts of beer," according to Mr. Frederick.

He's driven to produce micro brews for one important reason: "I like to drink beer."

He openly despises the biggest-selling beers in the country. "I developed a taste for something besides our domestic swill that we have around here."

But how did he know he could make a living selling beer? "In times of sorrow or times of gladness, beer's drunk at both occasions, so you're hitting both ends of the market and all times in between."

Later in the afternoon he sat in the shade with two regulars and reflected on the life of a brewer.

"The best part is socializing with the customers. I told everybody in high school that I was going to find a job that I could get paid to party, and I did."

-- Doug Oster, Post-Gazette

• • •

SPAIN

Come for breakfast, mid-morning coffee, afternoon merienda to fulfill an evening craving before dinner or just to pick up dessert for home or a special occasion.

No matter when you stop by Muel, a small shop of impossibly fresh gourmet pastries and chocolates, you will always be welcomed as if you just came home to your mother.

I was in the Northern coast town of Gijon, Spain, last winter while my husband, Gregg Kostelich, was recording a new album with his band, The Cynics. I went to this cozy store three times a day, and every single time we were treated like we were their best friends.

Pastry chef Pablo Muel looks too young to be such a master of all things sweet, from simple classics like palmeras and croissants to local traditions like sabayones, bunuelos or casadiellas, to complex gourmet delicacies like chocolate truffles and cherries or exquisite cakes.

And of course, let's not forget the service and humble hospitality of Marta at the counter, always ready to offer advice and promptly take care of your order.

Even during the worst of Gijon's storms (wind gusts up to 40 mph and torrential rains) the place will always be buzzing with customers constantly coming in and out. And the trays of delicious desserts will also keep coming from the kitchen every few minutes.

In a city were confiterias (pastry shops) abound, and some have been family traditions for generations, la confiteria Muel will find its own, rightful place for the simple pleasures and consistent goodness it offers.

And I can't wait to go there again.

-- Barbara Garcia-Bernardo, Mt. Lebanon

• • •

BLOCK ISLAND

The snack bar at Payne's Dock on Block Island, R.I., is slightly off the beaten track for most tourist traffic. On the water in New Harbor, rather than the ultra-touristy Old Harbor, where the ferries come in, it caters more to the boating crowd. I found it while biking around the island, and while my lunch of clam cakes was fine, the real treasure was the homemade doughnuts.

They come in three varieties -- cinnamon, sugar and plain -- and they're petite and modest-looking, unlike the swollen, overly made-up sugar bombs made by the big doughnut chains. Lightly browned on the outside, with just a hint of crispness, they reveal an inside that's densely moist without being heavy or greasy, cakey without being too inflated with air.

They're just sweet enough to be a treat but won't weigh you down, even when you get back on your bike. The kid behind the counter said they're even better in the first few hours after the snack bar opens at 7 a.m., but they're good anytime, especially consumed out on the dock with all that fresh sea air.

And whatever you do, don't leave Block Island without getting a Del's frozen lemonade. Del's are made with real juice, as the bits of lemon pulp you find in the ice will testify.

-- Samantha Bennett, Post-Gazette

• • •

IRELAND

Fish and chips are a staple all over the British Isles, but in no place does this dish taste as good as after a refreshing -- and a bit challenging -- bike ride across Inis Mor, the largest of these barrier Aran Islands.

Just off the west coast near Galway, the Aran Islands give visitors a glimpse of the rustic, simple life of old Ireland. The islanders still speak the ancient Celtic language -- we know it as Gaelic, but the natives prefer that we call it Irish -- and you'll see it reflected in dual language signs and overhear it in local pubs and shops. On Inis Mor, residents fish, farm the fields of barren limestone rock or work in the tourist industry that markets the famous Aran sweaters.

Inis Mor is easily navigated in an afternoon, so most visitors take ferries there for the day from Galway or from several points off the Connemara coast.

After arriving to the island, rent one of the bikes at the Aran Bike Hire (for 10 euros a day) and pedal along the narrow hilly road to Dún Aonghasa, one of the most spectacular circular Celtic stone forts in Europe, built in 2000 B.C.

The fort provides a spectacular view of the island cliffs and coast of Ireland, and you'll work up quite an appetite on the 45-minute ride each way that takes you by thatched-roof farmhouses, whitewashed cottages and stone churches.

In the portside town of Kilronan (Cill Ronain) stop at the little bialann (restaurant) called An tSean Cheibh.

Here you'll get deep-fried fillets of cod or haddock that have been caught that morning by the Aran fishermen, paired with stubs of french fried potatoes and hefty scones.

The fried batter coating on this tender fish was as thin as onion skin, crispy but not greasy, and just melted in our mouths.

I'm not a fan of fried food so I didn't order my own meal; I figured I'd mooch off of my 16-year-old's plate. But once I took that first bite, I couldn't stop eating, much to my daughter's dismay.

On the chips, sprinkle some vinegar and salt, an Irish tradition. But if you prefer ketchup, bring your own Heinz from home; the Irish brands are runny and too sweet. (We found Heinz at only one restaurant in Ireland, at a hotel frequented by Americans near Bunratty Castle, east of Shannon).

The fish and chips makes a full meal, but add a bowl of the thick seafood chowder (something you'll find on virtually every restaurant menu in Ireland) if you're really hungry. Top it off with pints of Guinness.

Fish and chips had its beginnings as a cheap food for the working class, but unfortunately in this time of an historically weak dollar against the euro and Ireland's booming economy, this humble meal has become anything but. My family of five ordered three fish and chips dishes, two bowls of chowder, two pints of Guinness and three tap waters. The bill -- in American dollars -- was almost $100.

Still, it will be quite a while before I forget the smell of the island's salt air, the magnificent views, and probably the best fish and chips I've ever tasted.

-- Virginia Linn, Post-Gazette