By the time you read this, I should be somewhere in western Louisiana, pedalling towards New Orleans, the promised land of muffuletta sandwiches, jambalaya and big bowls of sausage-studded gumbo. Occasionally, a vision of sugar-dusted beignets (pictured above) dances tantalisingly on the road in front of my eyes, a powerful incentive to keep those legs turning through bayou country.

I’ve been in the US for three weeks now, cycling around and eating everything in sight while researching my next book. America often gets a bad rap as a place that values quantity over quality in the food department – and while I’ve had more than my fair share of oversized meals (though I did take a pass on a half-pound burger with refried beans, cheese, salsa and tortillas chips on top), it’s as lazy a stereotype as the surprisingly popular assumption that British cuisine peaks at beans on toast. (Not that I’ve got anything against baked beans – in fact, I slightly miss them and will certainly be seeking out some of the Boston variety when I make it to New England next month.)

Though I’m travelling through the land of the motor car, where, with a few urban exceptions, everything is set up for the driver (why get out of your car to buy doughnuts when you can order them from the wheel), I’ve found several advantages to travelling by bike. For a start, you really work up an appetite for a hamburger or two when you’ve done 40 miles before lunch, and second, sticking to the smaller, slower roads means you bypass the big chains in favour of the smaller, independent joints that often predate the freeway system.

I started in San Francisco, spiritual home of sourdough and Chinese-American food (it’s thought to be the birthplace of the modern fortune cookie), then headed down the Pacific Coast Highway to Los Angeles for staggeringly expensive smoothies and incredible Armenian and Mexican food, before letting the train take the strain en route to Texas.

Though the longhorn state may be famous for its big beef, San Antonio is the centre of Mexican-American food and the birthplace of the fusion cuisine now known as Tex-Mex (and a Unesco creative city of gastronomy). Forget the forgettable fajitas and regrettable chimichangas that took the UK by storm in the 1990s; the real deal is as rich and nuanced as any other cuisine, from specialities from every region of Mexico to homegrown favourites such as puffy tacos and proper, slow-cooked chile con carne (but never, ever with beans).

After this, I’m heading to Tennessee for barbecue, hot chicken and Elvis’ favourite sandwich. If anyone knows a good salad joint up that way, please let me know.

The best thing I ate this week | I loved the playfulness of chef Jennifer Dobbertin’s Asian-American menu at San Antonio’s Best Quality Daughter: mochi cheddar hush puppies, curry guisada dan dan noodles and more – plus, after two weeks in the US, a big bowl of roasted brussels sprouts really hit the spot.

What I’ve been reading | Dobbertin and I had a conversation about British Chinese food, and I recommended she read the excellent memoir Takeaway by Angela Hui, about growing up behind the counter in one such restaurant in the the Welsh valleys. If you haven’t read it, you should, too.

Drooling over | I hear that spring has finally sprung in the UK, but here in the US stalls selling cut fruit sprinkled with chilli, lime and salt were everywhere in LA: that’s unbeatable refreshment on a hot day, especially if you can get hold of some Mexican Tajín.