I know, I am lucky. I live in a place where I can truly say that most of the food we eat is local and in season. I love how we eat here. I love the fresh, locally caught seafood. I love the seasonal fruits and vegetables that taste like they are supposed to. I love our olive oil which comes straight from the olives grown on my in-law's trees. I love the blood red oranges we squeeze every morning for breakfast from winter to spring. And I appreciate the style of shopping for food here - close to daily, small fruit and vegetable stores, little trucks or stands in front of someone's farm, or a crate of organic produce grown 90 minutes from where I live and delivered weekly to my door for only 10 Euros. Sicily just might be the best place to eat on earth.
But none of that goodness can cure me of my cravings for Mexican food. While I have taught myself to make some decent home cooked Mexican food in recent years, some things just cannot be so easily replicated: the salsa, the freshness of the tortillas, the texture of the refried beans, the crunch of the tortilla chips, the creaminess of the guacamole, the abundance of the cilantro. And that is why I stuff myself silly with burritos during my trips home to LA and inevitably come back to Sicily barely able to zip up my jeans. But really that's a small price to pay for the pleasure I experienced with every single deliciously spicy, cheesy, beany, cilantro-y guacamole-y bite.