Cruise ships are famous, or should I say notorious, for their food - copious amounts are on offer day and night. There are so many options, it’s hard to choose. You can simply show up at the buffet for three meals a day, plus tea time, snack time, etc. Or you can choose to put on something slightly dressier than shorts and flip flops and go to the dining room, where you will be shown to your table by a formal waiter. A starched white napkin will be spread over your lap for you, and you will be handed a two page menu - a new one each day.

You may also decide to stay in bed and breakfast can be delivered to you at the hour of your choice. No extra charge. Nothing more luxurious than coffee, fruit and pastries in bed, right?

There are more choices… The pool area usually has a cafeteria offering hot dogs, hamburgers and pizza throughout the day so you don’t even need to change from bathing suit to dry clothes before eating. There’s also a pub or two sprinkled throughout the ship for a beer and a light meal. Cunard offers meat pies in their British Pub, along with Irish music. They also have a few eateries where you can opt to pay more for food by ordering speciality meals, but everything else is included in your fare. Which is why I walk the stairs each day rather than take the elevator…

We’re from Canada, one of the most expensive countries in the world. In our grocery store, a loaf of bread is easily between 5 and 8 dollars. We pay 7 for a gallon of milk. So eating on a cruise ship is fun - we find the mangoes, avocados and mandarin oranges!

The dining room is lovely with impeccable waiters. Before I even spot the crispy white napkin on the crispy white table cloth, it’s being snapped onto my lap. I’m handed a huge menu. The problem is, each menu should come with a thesaurus. Half the time I have no idea what it means…

A daube of lamb. What the heck is a daube? Would a butcher know? Or do they doubt it’s lamb?

There’s also poached venison…. In Canada we have a law against poaching.

The pork is accompanied by swede. What the heck is swede? I know what A Swede is. And if he’s coming from the sauna he might be a poached Swede. When I used my dictionary, I actually learned that a ‘swede’ did indeed come from Sweden. It was introduced in Scotland in the 1700’s and we know it as rutabaga!

Piperade is on menu but I have no clue what it is. It’s not even in the dictionary. Should I just go ahead and order it? Then there’s Gentleman’s relish. Can a woman order it?

I loved being on a British ship during Robert Burns Night in January when the menu featured haggis, tatters and neeps! I’d always wanted to try it and now could do so to the tunes of a bagpipe!

Hawaiian Buffet on Holland America’s Zaandam

Would you know what a half poussin is when it’s on the menu? I don’t without googling it. Or how about a pithivier of cauliflower with wilted spinach? If my spinach is wilted, I usually chuck it out.

The other night our menu offered Black Feathered Turkey. I had visions of wet matted feathers on my plate and was relieved when it was just a nice white piece of meat. No feathers.

One night we celebrated a special event by having dinner in the speciality steak restaurant. The waiter offers you a choice of steak knifes! And the Porterhouse steak is carved at your table… We felt very special.

Then there was the day that the cook must have been fed up or angry about something, because the menu offered (I kid you not) smashed olives with burnt dressing. If I served that my family would complain.

And yesterday, for dinner, the menu offered ‘angry shrimp linguini’. When I asked the waiter what that meant, he didn’t blink an eye but said “They’re angry because they got caught.”

But hey, let’s face it. Once I get home, I’ll have to cook again and just being handed a menu is pretty awesome!

Some of my favourite BOOKS about food:

• Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise by Ruth Reichl

• Also by the same author Delicious!, Save Me The Plums and other titles.

• On Rue Tartin: Living and Cooking in a French Town, by Susan Herrmann Loomis