Is food is an integral part of your travel experience? Whether it’s street food, three-star Michelin dining, or something in between, our travels are often highlighted by, if not defined by, the meals we eat on our travels.

I ponder this notion from my perch at the coveted chef’s table in Aperi’s kitchen. Even though this whirlwind girls-only getaway is classified as ‘cheap and cheerful’, my gal-pal and traveling companion Maria has learned that the five-month old restaurant is already ranked #1 in San Miguel de Allende.

It’s our last night here in this Mexican mountain town that has reinvented itself more times than Madonna.

Once a sleepy 16^th century settlement, San Miguel grew into a thriving centre of silver production, slipped back to sleepy and forgotten after the War of Independence, emerged again as an intellectual and artistic haven, and more recently, gained fame as a tourist destination.

And now it seems this delightful city is on the cusp of yet another transformation – as a fine dining locale.

Maria and I agree that we deserve a treat for our last night here and book Aperi’s chef’s table. From our seats at the granite-topped table, we peer beyond the kitchen entrance into the main room. It’s not often the action in the dining area surpasses the ‘live in the kitchen’ experience but this is different.

An elderly man, surrounded by a bevy of attractive ladies, is holding court. He is spry, fit and sports a dapper suit and a sparkle in his eye. The ladies are literally fawning all over him. He’s a hit in the kitchen as well. Chef Matteo and his team seem genuinely pleased to see him and Matteo explains that he’s been a regular since the restaurant opened. The man, whose name we never learn, is 90 years old and has the energy and appetite of someone half his age.

He pops in when he’s leaving and says, ‘Matteo, it was a lovely dinner, as usual, but you need to change your menu. I’ve had everything on it.” Matteo laughs and replies that he’ll be changing the menu in the next month or so, for the spring season.

“You should do it sooner, Matteo, I want to come back next week.”

“Ok,” replies Matteo, “I’ll see what I can do.” They embrace like two old friends. The nonagenarian diner takes his leave, and Maria and I return our focus to the show in the kitchen.

The staff operates in amazing synchronicity. Five, sometimes six bodies move around effortlessly in a space not much larger than my own small kitchen. Except in my kitchen, as soon as one other person tries to help, all hell breaks loose, and things inevitably end in collisions like bumper cars. This is so much more enjoyable. The team banter with each other, and we join in.

One of the sous-chefs has the best job – he mans the grill, the rotisserie and the sous vide. And the blowtorch. I’ve never thought to add a blowtorch to my kitchen supplies. I make a mental note to plan a serious upgrade to my own kitchen.

Our meal features a six-course food and wine-pairing menu. Each dish is visually stunning – a drizzle of truffle oil, a smear of chocolate, a sprinkle of almond dust –small effects that transition a pretty dish into a work of art.

The menu is tantalizing. We start with a slab of creamy foie gras with tamarind and ancho chile, served with a glass of pink cava. This is followed by sea bass ceviche with cucumber and jicama and roasted green tomato sauce – served with a flourish as a swirl of vaporous dry ice dissipates when the glass dome is lifted off the plate. A tasting glass of sauvignon blanc accompanies.

Then it’s on to tender baby squid on a comfit of brown butter and lemon with crispy prosciutto. A glass of California cabernet enhances the flavours of crisp crusted roast pork belly with black truffle oil and rosemary smoke.

Fresh sea bass with black truffle oil, fried kale and fennel rounds out the meal.

We finish off with two desserts – ice nougat of caramelized almonds, comfit orange zest, toasted almond caramel and almond; and a chocolate chile (actually a decadent chocolate mousse encased in a pepper red gelatin mould).

Like Aperi’s favourite nonagenarian connoisseur, we can’t get enough of the vibe and the food, but as the last of the meals are cleared from the main dining room, we say our good byes and head home. We take the scenic route back to our casita, critiquing the courses as we negotiate the cobblestone walkways. We change our plans for the next – our last – day here, so we can indulge in lunch at Aperi.

We’re hoping the new spring menu won’t be ready yet. It’s too soon for another transformation.