It started as an adventure; involved a fish, mild hysteria and tears, and ended up as one of those enduring memories that seem especially — well, memorable — when they meld travel and food.

And of course people. Enduring memories always include people.

The adventure part started with going to choose a fish. The fish was not destined to join others of its kind in a pond. There was no pond in the two-bed single-bath apartment. So why, if not earmarked for a pond, was the fish carefully chosen from among others of its ilk swimming in a large tank, put into a plastic bag that was tied in a way to ensure the fish had air, and taken home?

Aha! The fish was destined to take up residence in the bath. The apartment's one and only bath.

Looking back, I can see that as an 11-year-old child, I was pretty adaptable. I was told my first-ever plane trip would be to Europe, alone as an unaccompanied minor, when school broke for the holidays. I was to join my mom and dad who, having left early to travel first without me, would have been there for about a month by then.

They met me at the airport. We caught trains and buses and I was introduced to strange foreign relatives it was impossible to communicate with except by using gestures.

I'd experienced about two weeks of this when my newly met grandfather took me to choose a fish. Given what had gone before, seeing him take the fish home and put it in the bath should have been — and in a sense was — just another ho-hum happening.

The mild hysteria and tears came when, after feeding the fish with squishy rolled-up bits of bread for three days — and yes, there is some truth in the rumor that there are Europeans in cold countries who infrequently take baths — the 11-year-old came to understand that the fish was destined for the frying pan followed by, not the fire, but the dinner table.

We can skip the bit where I dredge up a list of dire long-term consequences that have surely resulted from the subterfuge of adults who placated the child with claims that the fish — by now named Freddie — had been swapped for an anonymous twin.

The custom in that part of Europe, or at least with that particular family, it transpired, was to greet the New Year with food. Substantial quantities of food. In fact, several complete meals served sequentially through the evening.

I recall being astonished that anyone anywhere would, or could, indulge in a full meal at around 6 pm; another full meal at around 9 pm; and at midnight, a third full meal, this one composed of a rather handsome and now very dead whole fish, gutted and descaled but otherwise intact, served upon a platter accompanied by boiled potatoes and great dollops of mustard.

I don't recall if I ate the fish. I am sure it was succulent and flavorful and fleshy, as the people I was with clearly relished the pleasures of the table. But I have never forgotten the fish.

Or the sense that each day, while traveling, was like turning a page in a book and never knowing how the story would evolve, with customs and cultures so different from what I was used to unfolding before my young and naive eyes.

Celebrations. Memories. Good things to eat. Not-so-good things to eat. They go together, all spiced up when travel is involved. The anemic plucked chicken head, for instance, that stared from the middle of a plate in China when we thought we were in a vegetarian restaurant, but in fact simply didn't have a clue; and prising open oysters with a pocket knife while sitting on a rock at low tide on the Transkei coast in South Africa and feeling them slip down the throat with chilled white wine for breakfast before slipping into the salty water to clear the head. The memories and the stories — starting at age 11 with the fish — could fill several books.

Traveling or staying at home, the holidays are the time to rethink and share old memories and to create new ones. Be inspired to use, as you please, these 10 Top Tips for Holiday Bliss.

1. Create a special drink and serve it to friends.
   Click on this link for a seriously good Limoncello recipe featured in a previous Delicious Life column in Cuisine Noir.
   And click on this link for six ideas for festive party eats and drinks with alcohol, including eggnog and glühwein. They also feature in a previous Delicious Life column in Cuisine Noir.
2. Get creative in the kitchen. Give edible gifts to friends.
3. Eat seasonally. Click through to the Epicurious.com peak-season map to see what's in season in your region this month or any month.
4. Invite someone new to join you for a festive meal.
5. Focus on being yourself instead of who you think you should be. Accept you're going to disappoint some of the people some of the time. You'll see, it's like releasing a pressure valve.
6. Buy a heritage or heirloom turkey. Google to check out the difference before you choose.
7. Expect to enjoy yourself. It feels so much better than the reverse.
8. Stop. Be grateful. My friend Lynn who lives on a farm has people go round the dinner table saying out loud what they can feel grateful for. It cheers you up better than eggnog.
9. Carol singing is a great tradition. I have a friend in Sonoma County with whom I've gone with often. All you need are printed carol sheets, candles, doors to knock on and if possible — but not essential — someone with a good voice to lead.
10. Give a recipe book or a subscription to a food or travel magazine as a gift.