As soon as people discover I'm a restaurant critic, they ask two questions. The first is always, "Do you get lots of free meals?" (No.) The second is always, "What's the best place to eat in [insert name of town or country here]?" It happens all the time. Walking up the street. In the supermarket. On a plane. And that's just strangers, met in passing. Then there are friends, family and business associates. And the completely random, on email: "You don't know me, but …"

Let's face it, I'm a walking, talking Good Food Guide. Interactive, too, because I'll need to know if it's a special occasion, the size of the party – anything that might help me narrow it down. Then I'll give two answers: one for a big night out, the other a more modest eatery typical of the area.

It can get a bit much, especially when I'm up against a battalion of deadlines. Right now, I have five such requests pending. One for hot eating tips in Singapore ("I'm off on Thursday"); another for all of Portugal ("Where would you recommend? Food is the first priority"). The bloke at my local wine shop wants a few ideas for Geelong before he goes in a month. My boat-tour guide in Tasmania is seeking a great place for a blow-out in Sydney. And yesterday, a mate in the same apartment block stopped me for a bunch of Adelaide suggestions, "because you did so well with Brisbane".

Not that I can always help – I'm pretty poor on Italian restaurants in Nairobi open on Sundays – but I see it as part of my job. My calling, even. To say no would be as arrogant as a minister who only wanted to preach a sermon once a week from on high.

Besides, I too have been in the position of asking for a dining recommendation and receiving amazingly helpful and precise advice. Thank you, chef Jeremiah Tower, for the 1999 recommendation of the Swan Oyster Depot in San Francisco. I go there to this day. Thank you, Martin Benn and Vicki Wild of Sepia fame, for Chao Chao, the amazing little gyoza place in Tokyo's Yurakucho district. Thank you to the information desk at Milan's glorious railway station for the slow-food joys of Osteria del Treno, run by the railway workers' co-operative. The least I can do is spread the joy.

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