As much as I’d like to claim otherwise, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I love mac-n-cheese. I could probably eat it every day—or at least some version of pasta. But I know many people who look down their noses when a person admits they love the classic kid’s dish. In fact, many think of it as just that: a quick dish for children, not a refined meal. For me, though, there’s something about it that just hits the spot.

In college, when life gets busy, especially if you’re in school and living in a dorm room, the fallback is quick-n-easy meals. I fell into the familiar rut of microwaving lots of pasta-based dishes. After graduation, I was a middle-school teacher and my long days clustered around lesson plans and grading papers. If I cooked, it was a side dish for a holiday.

Years later I moved to Seoul, Korea, where I worked as a private educator and I ate things like tteokbokki (spicy rice cake), bulgogi (marinated beef) and of course my daily dose of homemade kimchi. On vacation, I was able to travel throughout Southeast Asia. In Bali, I ate nasi goreng (fried rice) and satay (meat skewers). Hong Kong offered street foods like milk tea with pineapple bread, Singapore had fish head curry and in Xiamen I ate spicy hotpot (two kinds of broth that you dip meats and veggies into).

BRINGING THE WORLD HOME

When I came back home to Southern California, I wanted to re-create those experiences for my family. While the local Trader Joe’s has a pretty good variety of foods from around the world (like a surprisingly good kimbap), I thought, “What’s stopping me from cooking this way at home, recalling the places I’ve traveled?” To keep myself from sliding back into the familiar groove of spaghetti (and to better nourish my body) I’d been cultivating a broader range of recipes. It started with a Chilean cookbook in honor of my mother’s lineage, then a Turkish one for my paternal heritage; soon enough I was just like my mother and grandmother, collecting recipes from magazines, earmarked to try soon, and printing off ones I found online and sending photos to friends to brag about a new one I tried. It helped to have an eager, hungry family to feed too.

FLAVOR NOTES

Adding to the sensory experience, I put on themed music when we ate. Why not have it go with the dish I was serving? A taco Tuesday paired well with classical Mexican guitar while an Indian curry dinner went with the relaxing sitar playlist—a beautiful benefit of streaming services that technology allows. Japan’s artistically styled plates of sushi and onigiri were challenging to replicate but tasted as good as I remembered, enlivened by the sounds of bamboo flutes playing. And for Korean night—though perhaps not the most relaxing dinner music—I could only think of one strong pairing: K-pop, Korean pop music that makes almost anyone want to get up and shake it.

One day I woke up craving Thailand’s tom kha gai soup, with its coconut milk and lemongrass base. I went to the store just for fresh lemongrass only to find they just carried a paste. If I wanted the real deal, the cashier said, I’d have to drive down to a specialty market in Los Angeles. I settled for the pre-made concoction. Luckily, it tasted pretty much the same and my family lined up for seconds.

Closer to home were regional foods of the States. I made shrimp and grits in honor of the South, playing old-school blues like BB King. In homage to my time in New York, there were hot dogs with sauerkraut and a side of Sinatra. Montreal’s known for poutine (fries topped with cheese curds and gravy) so I honored Canadian songstress Celine Dion. I even looked up a copycat recipe from a bakery in Australia (though I’m sure that’s not what they’re known for; I just haven’t been to the land down under yet) and played some indigenous didgeridoo (after a hearty AC/DC session).

Adding to the sensory experience, I put on themed music when we ate. I made shrimp and grits in honor of the South, playing old-school blues like BB King. In homage to my time in New York, there were hot dogs with sauerkraut and a side of Sinatra.

FEELING POTLUCKY

When I lived in Las Vegas, I continued to meet people from all over. About once a month, we had dinner parties where we brought a dish to share. Kerri from South Africa brought biltong (beef jerky) with her braai classic aartappelgebak (potato bake), Astrid from Italy made her classic pesto (and swears that real Italians salt their boiling water after the pasta is in), Nico from Greece made moussaka, Ana from Portugal brought pastel de nata (egg custard tart), Dani from Guatemala made chicken pepián, Mouaad from Morocco carried tagine, Jess from New Zealand baked pavlova (a meringue-like crunchy yet chewy dessert), and Diane from Key West brought the key lime pie.

During one dinner party, it was getting quiet, the night almost over. Soon it would be the next person’s turn. Mine.

“What’s California known for?” my friend asked me.

“Oh… hmmm.” I thought for a minute about this. It seemed like we had such a wealth of restaurants and cultures. Luckiest of all, so much fresh produce year-round, much of it grown by hardworking farmers on the Oxnard Plain. “Salads?”

Everyone laughed and started to debate what else it might be—burritos or lobster or a pricey juice cleanse that a celeb was promoting.

Out of all the recipes and flavors, I decided to make a salad like the ones my mom is known for: full of organic freckled lettuce, bell peppers, toasted pine nuts, goat cheese, beets, sprouts, avocado and pretty much any vegetable in season.

WORLD TOUR COMPILATION

That sparked the idea to compile these recipes from around the world into a family cookbook. It includes places my mother traveled to back in her youth as well as the places I’ve visited. In it, we have recipes from all over the world: the rice pudding of Costa Rica, the dal baht of Nepal, the ugali bread of Kenya, beet-based borscht soup from Russia, saffron-rice-based paella from Spain, corn and cheese arepas from Venezuela, Cuban ropa vieja (stewed beef), misir wat (red lentils) from Ethiopia, Cambodian amok (coconut fish curry), hot phở from Vietnam and—from more recent time in Alaska—anything freshly caught from the sea.

The culmination of all of these cultures, textures and tastes helps me feel grateful for the opportunities I’ve had and to be able to bring back pieces of these experiences to my family and friends who aren’t able to travel far. Through photos, music and food, I can replicate some of that, bringing them a bit of my travels with every forkful. I didn’t want to wait until my international friends eventually passed away to honor their memories, cultures and stories; I want to celebrate them today, to find joy in each day.

There are still countries I want to visit and I hope I’ll get to try one of everything and bring back a recipe from my favorite, attempting to replicate it with the people I love. Maybe I’ll even find some hybrid experimental version of mac-n-cheese… for sophisticated grownups. Now if only I could figure out what kind of music goes best with that.