Just before Christmas I went on a road trip from Cannes on the French Riviera to Milan in Northern Italy. Taking freeways all the way, the trip clocked in at just under five hours.

Once across the Italian border, we needed fuel and a snack, so the driver pulled up at an Autogrill, the European version of an Australian service station, or “servo” as they are fondly known here.

It was nothing special inside in terms of decor. But unlike Australian service stations, it sold bottles of wine. It also sold boxes of panettone, tins of olive oil, and books for bored, back-seat travellers.

The shelves were stocked with coffee beans, sweet and savoury biscuits, cheeses, cakes, olives and dried pasta. Fridges were full of soft drinks, juices, kefirs, yoghurts and beer. There was a table of salumi, or cured meats, and artisanal breads. You could eat at a simple cafe serving pastas, soup and salad or take away many kinds of sandwiches and focaccias. A barista made coffees at a dedicated bar.

It was almost as good as the Austrian service station I visited years before, which was like a mini-food hall or food fair, with an array of delicious hot food at brightly decorated stations that we could take away or eat at outside tables.

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Compare this to my last foray up the Hume. After a few hours of driving, we paused at a large petrol station for necessary refuelling. Most service stations these days have similar layouts, divided into two areas – the section where you pay for fuel, grab a soft drink, ice-cream or an overpriced chocolate bar, and a take-away food counter, which might have limited table service.

The food offering was dismal. There was nothing I wanted to eat. The sandwiches were bland and pre-packaged. With limited options, my husband ordered a burger. When it came, it was just a reheated patty on a sweet bun, like something from McDonald’s, except without the tasty pickles and sauce.

Dreaming of the days before the road bypassed Albury, when you could stop at the Mermaid Cafe for a juicy home-made burger layered with the lot, he returned to the counter and complained about the lack of even a lettuce leaf. The server pointed to a photo above his head of an unappetising burger with no salad. You get what you see, he said.