Rice fatigue: How a mediocre burger became the best meal of my life

The most satisfying meal I ever had came from a restaurant I can’t even remember the name of. It was an overpriced burger from a characterless place serving ‘international’ cuisine in a Bangkok mall, and I’ve never eaten anything so happily.

To be absolutely clear, this was far from the best meal I’ve ever eaten. In fact, by any reasonable standards it was merely brushing mediocre. But, gosh, was it needed.

Sticky rice on sale at Chatuchak Market in Bangkok: No matter which way you colour it, it’s still rice.Credit: Alamy

There’s a phenomenon when travelling in Asia that we might as well call “rice fatigue”. You can absolutely adore Thai cuisine – or Chinese, or Indian, or Malaysian, or Vietnamese – but there still comes a point where you just want to eat something different. And, specifically, something that doesn’t come with rice.

Rice, more so than bread, pasta, corn or potato, has developed over the centuries into the world’s great staple. It goes with most things, and can be dressed up to have flavour, but is largely content to provide an accompaniment that doesn’t overpower the main act.

For someone who grew up in a small, traditionally Anglo village, rice also has connotations of the exotic and excitement. It evokes the worldly wonders of jalfrezi, massaman, paella and nasi goreng. It’s the baseline to some of the very best tunes food can play.

But, alas, when rice comes with every meal for a fortnight, you can get heartily sick of it. Rice fatigue sets in, and suddenly the allure of eating magically authentic dishes in their place of origin evaporates. Instead, the cravings for a dirty burger, or a merely average pizza, or literally anything with fries, pound away at the brain like an orchestra made entirely of booming timpani.

Credit: Jamie Brown

One of the great human growth moments is the realisation that you don’t have to be some sort of mythical perfect traveller. We all have flaws and foibles, and holidays are supposed to be fun, not rigid, unyielding cultural immersions. Accept that it’s OK to tap out occasionally, indulging in the familiar, and your travels are likely to be far happier as a result.

It also helps to recognise that rice fatigue isn’t really about rice at all – it’s about variety. You can throw yourself into any of the world’s great food cultures, and you’ll still want to dip into another one after a while. Two weeks in Italy can lead to an unnerving hankering for a burrito. A fortnight in France can trigger a lust for kung pao chicken. And nothing can elevate the status of the humble bacon sandwich like a spell exploring the Middle East.

This comes not from parochialism, or homesickness. It comes from the privileged position of home having already embraced the world. Pad Thai and pho, mezze and mole, ramen and roti. All of them are familiar and readily available in a way that would be unthinkable 40 years ago. Our palates have become global, and haughtily demanding as a result. A vast, diverse wealth of flavours is the norm.

When we live amid a bountiful international buffet, it’s only natural to miss the inaccessible sections of it in a destination that specialises in a particular cuisine or dish. It’s hard to remain satisfied with a glorious vivid red when you’re used to having the whole rainbow.

Getting rice fatigue isn’t necessarily a failure to adapt or travel in an authentic manner. It’s the result of a lifetime spent frequently adapting to new, exciting and mostly authentic introductions.

It’s an immensely fortunate place to be in, and worth recognising as such. But that doesn’t mean anyone needs to beat themselves up when they fancy tacos in Tuscany or a burger in Bangkok.