There is something about water that adds flavour even to a lowly salad, not to mention fish or crab. It’s difficult to explain, but I guess water generally tends to calm us down so we slowly soak in the fine taste of the food.

The other day I sat at Gonu, the refurbished beachside restaurant at Le Méridien in Fujairah. The waves from the Gulf of Oman gently splashed the shore on a nearly full moon night.

It was warm and slightly humid, but the cool sea breeze ensured there was no need to put on the big fans. The open kitchen was right next to where I sat and I could smell both the ocean and the food.

I ordered a plate of succulent prawns to pamper myself and ate slowly, relishing the ambience as the ships bobbed up and down on the distant horizon. The effect was magical and hugely relaxing.

Gonu is, of course, as nice as you can get by the beachside. Named after a typhoon that hit these shores some years back, the restaurant is minimalist but with a menu that offers a choice of seafood and pasta among other dishes. “The restaurant is like the storm, it gives you a powerful experience,” Patrick Antaki, the hotel’s general manager told me as we discussed the advantages of slow cooking and a new oven he recently bought for his home.

Eating by the water is indeed a powerful experience. For one, water defines life; and there is always something to see out there — boats, ships, people, children playing in the sand... at night, the moonlight, the shimmering waves and the far away lights are enough to unwind you.

I have eaten on beaches in Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, India, UAE, the Philippines, Sri Lanka, China and the US and have never been let down by the food or the environment. It just tastes so much better when it is closer to nature. Coastal food also has its own character and the fish — cooked in any style — is easier on the palate as well as the stomach.

Go inland and the meat goes red, becomes harder and spicier. The dry climate lends itself to a different kind of cuisine than the coast where fish is the main staple.

Last week, I sat by the famous canals of Copenhagen and ordered three kinds of pickled herring, marinated over six months, with salad — and fish never tasted so good in the sun. Large, freshly-painted sail boats with masts drawn stood waiting for their owners, blocking the white framed windows of some very old, colourful buildings.

Men, women and children loitered around, looking for a place to eat among the throng of small restaurants along the canal that stretched into the harbour from where the Vikings once sailed to distant lands.

Out to the left, a few minutes into the harbour, stood the magnificent new opera house, waves lapping on its wide stairs — a 350 million euro gift to the city by a shipping company.

The nice thing about eating at the seaside is that there is always history lurking around the corner.

Try eating at the Mount Lavinia beach near Colombo in Sri Lanka and you are sure to hear the story of Sir Thomas Maitland, the second British Governor General of  Ceylon and his clandestine affair with a beautiful local dancer named Lovina. Maitland was so taken with her that he named the grand mansion he built for himself after her.

A tunnel, that is still there to this day, allowed the two to keep their tryst secret during their affair, which lasted for six years.

Similarly, the beaches of Goa not only serve great food, but also a good dollop of history that goes back centuries to the times when the Portuguese ruled the sandy strips. One of the best meals I ever had was in Sampan, sailing somewhere in the choppy waters of the South China Sea off Hong Kong many years ago.

It was a balmy Sunday afternoon and the boatman promised to cook the best seafood noodles we’ve ever had as we sailed. It was scary to see him light the stove, but the end result was fantastic.

As the outboard motor went silent and large boats sailed to and from Macau, we ate the oily noodles mixed with small chunks of prawns and dried fish. There was water all around us.

(Rahul knows what makes food  good, or bad. Write to him at rahul@khaleejtimes.com)