Canterbury asks for a pause even from people in a hurry. The cathedral towers over the roofs, the little River Stour slips under footbridges and old timber houses lean over the lanes, and the whole centre is wrapped in a medieval wall that still survives in long stretches. It was already a Roman town, and in 597 Augustine arrived from Rome to begin the English church here, so this is, in a sense, where English Christianity starts.
The story most visitors know is the murder of Thomas Becket, the archbishop killed in the cathedral in 1170 by knights of Henry II. His shrine made Canterbury the great pilgrimage destination of medieval England, and the road from London became so busy that Geoffrey Chaucer used a party of pilgrims on it as the frame for his Canterbury Tales. As a rider coming down from London, you are following a very old route, and it is a nice thought for the last few miles.
As a food stop, the city is easy and varied. The centre is compact and mostly pedestrianised, with cafés, pubs and bakeries in the lanes around the cathedral, and cheaper places toward the station and the university. Parking for motorcycles is available at the edge of the centre, and a short walk gets you to everything. Weekends are crowded and coach parties are common, so a weekday or an early start is much easier. Kent produces good cheese, cider and apples, and you will find the local product on most menus.
Canterbury has about fifty-five thousand people, so fuel is straightforward, with stations on the ring road and the main approaches. The riding in and out is mostly town and A-road traffic, with roundabouts and the occasional queue, so the pleasure is saved for the lanes to the east and south, where the North Downs roll toward the coast. If you are heading to Dover or Folkestone, the road is quick, and you will see the land open toward the Channel.