A pleasant interstate 70 welcomed Rebecca and me, beginning our journey with confidence from Manhattan, Kansas. Crossing the point of no return, Kansas City, made me tingle. The miles and hours passed effortlessly driving east through America’s sleeping heartland. State lines came and went but anticipation never wavered. At each stop for gas or other road trip necessities, Rebecca would wake and inquire about our location. The orange glow of the rest stop street light illuminated her smile of satisfaction.
We were headed east for a New England eats tour. For a kid from Kansas, this was a trip for the senses, an inexperienced region to be seen and tasted, for the born Long Islander, a homecoming and walk in the park. Our tour took us to edge of delicious and back, from Philadelphia to Portland (Maine) and eats in between. The following is an aspiring food writer’s blog about experiences with and opinions of classic American dishes where America began.
