Already the influx of gastro-pilgrims has upset some natural algorithms. Last year in Bangkok, after the crab-omelet specialist Raan Jay Fai was anointed with a Michelin star, waits for a table at the tiny shop-house restaurant stretched to three hours.

While the spike in business is a financial boon, the owner — who cooks each omelet herself, wearing ski goggles to protect herself from the spitting oil — has said that she wishes she could give the star back.

There is little chance the crowds will let up. A 2016 report by the World Food Travel Association classified 93 percent of vacationers worldwide as “food travelers,” who seek out food beyond the demands of sustenance — attending a class on cooking mole in Oaxaca, say, or riding a boat at dawn through a floating market in Kashmir.

The philosopher Lisa Heldke has critiqued the colonialist impulse behind what she calls “eating adventures,” which she likens to collecting and uprooting artifacts from their cultural context.

But some tour operators contend that in opening our mouths, we open our minds.

“The polarized view that we get, the xenophobia, comes from the lack of a data set,” said Luis Vargas, the chief executive of Modern Adventure, which funnels data in the guise of weeklong eating and drinking itineraries in destinations like the Republic of Georgia and the Basque region of Spain.

In this thinking, a basket of dumplings can teach as much about a culture as its greatest monuments.

When Little Adventures in Hong Kong helps you decode the tome of a menu at a Cantonese restaurant — so “you don’t repeat dishes with the same ingredients or cooking methods,” said Daisann McLane, the company’s founder — you may earn a grudging nod of approval from the waiter and a deeper understanding of the society in which these feasts are central.