How I ate my way around the world—and never left the U.S.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, when is the best time to visit Disney World of all?"
Were I the mirror, I'd tell you "oh, early fall." Kids are back in school, thinning the frenzied crowds. The sweltering summer temps have cooled off to pleasant autumn days.
"And," says I, the mirror, "it's in the heart of the EPCOT Food & Wine Festival."
Since 1995, Walt Disney World in Florida has been serving up global gastronomy on a silver platter. From August to November, cuisines originating from more than 20 locales grace the banks of the World Showcase Lagoon at EPCOT. Over the years a curated lineup of menus from a wide range of countries, continents and regions—from Morocco to Polynesia, Argentina to Norway, Singapore to Canada—have all strut across this scrumptious stage.
While the families with children are away, the Food & Wine Festival really ought to be a landmark on your Disney calendar. While there's still plenty to be enjoyed by kids and families (this is Disney after all), parkgoers unencumbered from the rhythms of the school year have moved in, leading to some online lamentations of now swelling (and a bit over-imbibed) crowds at this once preciously slow season at the parks. I'm pleased to report that my visit contained none of that—and not because the Sake-Politans and Frozen Caipirinhas weren't flowing. All around us were pleased and grinning parkgoers, decorously eating their way around the world.
The sun was setting, and a powdery lavender glow clung to the horizon beneath woolly cloud cover as we strode down the promenade that connects the World Showcase to the rest of EPCOT and its the big golf ball in the sky. I was traveling with my girlfriend, and upon arriving at the festival (which is included with your admission to EPCOT, but food and drink are purchased separately), we had a choice to make. One prompted by some colorful culinary signage. On the right, a pink and sprinkled donut read "Sweet." On the left, the word "Savory" rested upon a pepper shaker, its salty twin dashing a few grains of itself onto the word. We're sorry, dentists! We chose the "Sweet" direction.
It wasn't hard to spot the goodies. Outside each Global Marketplace booth was a red and white column crowned with the festival's logo, displaying its food and beverage offerings. Menus advertised three or four dishes, two or three cocktails or beer and wine options, alongside non-alcoholic drinks and allergy-free selections. All this at prices which, I must say, did not leave my wallet quaking in fear.
In the shadow of a terraced, Nahuatl-style pyramid we considered the menu at the Mexico Global Marketplace. I saw heaping Tostadas de Carnitas and Flautas de Barbacoa for under $10, and a signature cocktail for under $14. Compared to our hometown of Chicago, where the Clarita Margarita, a tangy, orange liqueur-spiked libation that we shared Lady and the Tramp style, would've run at least $20, this was a welcome price tag indeed.
In an effort to pace ourselves during this gastronomic globetrot, we departed the high sierra of Mexico and quickly found ourselves a world away among Norway's rugged fjords. Looming before us now was a burly stave church and clues of Elsa and Anna all around. A princess silhouette here, a trail of magical snowflakes there. And, here, I had to boast some bona fides. Norwegian-American by heritage, samplings of the Scandinavian nation's cooking have crossed my family dinner table from time to time, and while much of it seems more designed to frighten than delight (Lutefisk, anyone? What's the matter, sweetie? Don't you like your gelatinized lye-soaked cod?) I was ready for an opportunity to get my inner Anton Ego on.
Approaching a dark wooden cart tended by two women with braided pigtails and wearing red bunads, I was thrilled to see frozen lingonberry gløgg (Norwegian mulled wine) on the menu, and soon the sweet, tart flavor of the scarlet berries which I recalled piling onto my waffles at grandma's house as a kid were alighting—no, dancing—on my tastebuds. I whirled around, nodding to my girlfriend my vigorous approval as we ambled through the faux Norwegian village with its sod roofs and burgundy-trimmed cottages.
We made our way into the Kringla Bakeri og Kafe for some more sweet treats. I recalled a childhood trip to Norway to visit extended relatives when I stuffed myself with so many cardamom-spiced buns, and was so ferocious on a swing set, that I vomited all over myself and the local cultural center. While it wasn't my intention to do the same here, I did mean to make up for what I'd lost so many years ago. We entered and "Lefse!" I exclaimed to my girlfriend, seeing in the display case at the front of the bakery the flatbread rolls I've often made from scratch at Christmastime. Thin, tortilla-like bread is spread with butter and dusted with cinnamon sugar before being neatly rolled into scrolls of delicious pastry. Alongside them were enormous kringla, cookie-pastries twisted into pretzel shapes and, these ones, with the option to be doused in chocolate. An option I obviously opted for.
"En-joy," said the blonde baker behind the counter, in a familiar lilting accent as we departed, double-fisting lefse and kringla and China-bound.
"I think she was actually Norwegian," I said to my girlfriend between mouthfuls of flaky, buttery goodness. The next day, my tour guides through the Magic Kingdom would offer up the fact that the Cast Members (aka park employees) at the World Showcase pavilions are from the places they represent. "The bakers at the bakery in Norway are all from Norway, and same with other marketplaces. And they create the menu, too."
Around the world we went, from the tiered pagodas of China to the thatched roofs of Hawai'i, sampling plump dumplings and pineapple cheesecake. Wanting everything on the menu, but reminding ourselves of just how big the world is and we ought to save room for it. Crisscrossing the globe until we found ourselves on the sunny shores of the Iberian Peninsula, when the culinary highlight of our visit to the EPCOT Food & Wine Festival came into our lives. Standing before the menu display, it took a split second for us, to wordlessly agree on what to order and, like Mickey Mouse floating on the sweet scent of pie resting on the windowsill, we wafted into the line for Spain's marketplace.
"Paella caldoso, please," I proudly asked.
¡Ah, que rico! ¡Que sabroso! Moments later we were handed a steaming black paellera containing a pillowy layer of yellow and fragrant saffron rice, topped with a succulent pile of shrimp, scallops and mussels, a veritable who's-who of heavenly seafood that made me wonder why Ariel ever wanted out of the watery deep in the first place, if this is what's on the menu.
As we stood there toe to toe, matching each other forkful for forkful on this exquisite Spanish treasure, it was like the warm Valencian sun was sparkling in our mouths, like the splish-splash of Mediterranean waves were lapping playfully upon our palates. And while we'd go on to sample some delectable boeuf bourguignon, springy pão de queijo and creamy mango lassis, our hearts will always belong to paella caldoso.
Later, under the glow of The Symphony of Us fireworks show, when my stomach was still tight-bibbed and cutlery-fisted, awaiting another heap of brothy rice and seafood, I saw Disney World in a new light.
That Disney comes before World in the park's title maybe isn't so obvious. For as much as it's a celebration of a tear-jerking fantasy entertainment universe, much of it, especially at EPCOT, or "the Experimental Prototypical Community of Tomorrow," is a celebration of the real world. Of our planet Earth and the people and places that make it up. While it's tempting to regard the park as a twee facsimile of the international community and its cultures, it could be doing a lot worse. Yes, you're traipsing around central Florida, but the brainpower behind the grill, behind the bar, behind the soup pot is from far away and, I dare say, quite genuine. The EPCOT Food & Wine Festival brings people in with the Disney, and invites them to stay for the World.