Wandering & Eating
Twenty years of work. Then one morning I decided I was done. I booked a one-way ticket to Asia, put one bag on my back, and I've been moving ever since — eating everything I can find along the way.
I'm Stefan. I'm 37. I worked for two decades, and then I stopped. I packed one bag, booked a one-way ticket to Southeast Asia, and told myself I'd keep going until my body or my spirit said otherwise.
This blog is my notebook. Every place I land, every kitchen I wander into, every dish I can't stop thinking about — it goes here. I don't know where I'll end up. That's the whole point.
I won't be talking about where I came from. That chapter is behind me. This one is all that matters now.
From the road
The Journey
I started in the south and I've been moving north and east ever since. No fixed end date. No fixed plan. The dotted line is my best guess at what comes next.
Why food?
Every place I arrive in, I make one rule for myself: eat where the locals eat. Not the places with English menus hanging outside — the ones with handwritten signs, plastic chairs, and a grandmother at the stove who's been doing it for fifty years.
On here you'll find recipes I've watched being made, things I've tried to recreate badly in hostel kitchens, and stories about the people who've fed me along the way. Some dishes I get right on the first try. Most I don't.
That's fine. That's the whole thing.