It's a time for sharing roots as the fiancé gets the full Missouri experience

There may be exceptions, but I believe that for most people, where you grew up and what makes you tick are closely related. They don't call them the formative years for nothing.

This year, two events are converging to make that inter-dependency important to me. First, I'm marrying an Englishman who, until meeting me, had no exposure whatsoever to the American Midwest or to St. Louis. Second, I'm about to sell the family home there, truly cutting ties for the first time since I left 18 years ago. It was, therefore, particularly important to me that Piers get at least one total immersion holiday in St. Louis, filled with fun, traditional food, all the requisite tourist sites and a heavy dose of childhood friends and extended family.

This trip, we devoted sightseeing time to the top options. We went up in The Arch, squeezing into one of the tiny capsules to be carried up the south leg to the small observation deck, then explored the museum at its base. That looks at the broad story of westward expansion, while our visit to the History Museum in Forest Park looked more specifically at St. Louis and its immediate area. The fur trappers who founded the place, the divisions of the Civil War, the magnificence of the 1904 World's Fair, the glory days of aviation ... Piers can now cover off the civic highlights like a native. We drove around the grand old neighbourhoods around Forest Park, giving an appreciation for how good American architecture could be early in the 20th century.

Swinging south of the city, we had a lovely stroll around the Botanical Gardens. One of the best in the United States and in glorious bloom this wet April, the dogwoods, azaleas and tulips provided a lush background for our engagement photo shoot. The Budweiser brewery tour was a must, and I'm delighted to say that the ownership of InBev has made little difference to this institution since I went on the tour just before the completion of the takeover (See 23 August 2008).

In the middle of the week we headed south and west to the Lake of the Ozarks, traditional summer playground for St. Louisans. Our scenic drive along highway 94 followed the path of the Lewis and Clark expedition and showed off some gorgeous landscape. Once there, we stayed at the Lodge of the Four Seasons where we took in two of the three usual activities, shopping at the Osage Beach Outlet Mall and relaxing at the wonderful Spa Shiki. (Getting out in a boat would have been the third, but the only decent weather came at the same time as our spa appointments.) In nearby Jefferson City, where my father lives, we toured the capitol building. Almost laughably ornate and grand for our humble state, it impresses with its architecture, its bold position on a hill over the Missouri River and its Hall of Missourians, where you can wander amongst statues of Mark Twain, Josephine Baker, Walt Disney, Harry S. Truman (twice), Stan Musial and many more.

Most critically, we got to a baseball game. It wasn't the best example of the genre, with gloomy weather, a rain delay in the 7th and the Cards sloppily giving up a lead in the 8th to lose to the Reds. But Piers got to drink in the atmosphere, interact with the fans, understand more about the game and indulge in pre- and post-game beverages at local watering holes. As we all explained to him, you can't really understand St. Louis without understanding Cardinals baseball.

Tacked on to all of this sightseeing was, of course, food. For Piers' first visit to St. Louis, I made sure we went to some of the better restaurants in town, so he could see that the Midwest could do dining experiences as sophisticated as those we get in London. This visit was more about local stalwarts. We tried a few places new to me (high marks to Yagu in Chesterfield Valley for top quality sushi with innovative twists and gorgeous presentation), but the concentration was on childhood comfort food. Thus on a surfeit of burgers, fries and onion rings, on which my guest blogger Piers will comment in coming entries. In addition to those delights at White Castle, O'Connell's and Sportsman's Park, we went for soft, fresh-from-the-oven pretzels at Gus', sandwiches from Amighetti's, classic rib sticking Italian fare at Rigazzi's (good food, genial but horrific service), cannoli from Missouri Baking, the classical American abundance of dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, numerous plates of toasted ravioli and hot dogs at the ball park ... all the savoury items washed down with copious amounts of beer.

These are the tastes of childhood. (Yes, even the beer is a formative flavour. You don't grow up in Anheuser Busch's home city without believing it's your patriotic duty to drink their products.) It is no wonder that I was a tubby child, nor that my Weight Watchers weigh in upon returning was enough to send me into shock, depression and a vow to give up wine and bread for the rest of the month.

Throughout the trip we got to spend lots of quality time with the people who mattered. We saw my father both in St. Louis and on his home turf in Jefferson City, where dad gave an engagement party for us at his apartment. I suspect Piers was the most exotic thing to hit that crowd in a very long time. His accent and his commentary on why we hadn't hung around for the royal wedding seemed to provide constant fascination. Back in St. Louis, we did more quality bonding time with my matron of honour Anne and her husband Mike (who almost died for us in their attempt to pick us up at the airport). Anne and I have been delighted to see how quickly the boys have bonded and are looking forward to a future of shared holidays in slightly more exotic locations.

On royal wedding day, Anne gave an engagement party for us that was dominated by the Villa (high school) crowd. We even had our own commemorative plate, designed and created by our classmate Madolyn, who made a special trip in from Boston for the party. Far more comforting than any food or tour was watching Piers embraced by, and comfortable with, the family and friends who will continue to be my roots after the house and its contents are sold. As long as the people you love are there, you can always go home again.