To Florida for the start of the NASCAR season. These trips out into the "real" America are always anticipated with a mixture of excitement at the adventures in store and trepidation at the cuisine. In general I have no (pickup) truck with Europeans who are snobbish about American culture, but when it comes to feedin' outside the big cities I have decided after exhaustive research that snobbery is the only rational response. Visiting the racetrack in Daytona was final confirmation of this - the place is a mecca for racefans and a magnet for the zillions of bucks poured into one of the most reliable ad markets in America: beer-swilling NASCAR man. But there is nowhere to eat. Poor old Juan Pablo Montoya. We spoke to the Colombian driving ace about his transfer from the glamorous world of Formula One. This time last year he would have been quaffing champagne and oysters quayside in Monaco. Daytona has a beachfront promenade of sorts, but the dinner options didnt go much beyond hashbrowns and eggs-over-easy at the (really not very) International House of Pancakes.
(To hear the package we did for Today press here and scroll down to the 08.23 slot.)
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