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Whenever I get sad, I start to think about food or travel, and I imagine myself away. Sometimes it drives my husband Isaac crazy because on a Monday I might be planning an imaginary trip to Colombia to go scuba diving, but by Wednesday I've hatched a scheme to spend a few weeks in Thailand with my dear friend Tien. The hardest part for Isaac is that by the time I'm imagining myself in Thailand, I've already forgotten entirely about Colombia (though that plan will possibly come up again at some point).

As for imagining food, that's always a good escape. Tonight I've been thinking about lime and chili, two of my favorite ingredients in Mexican food. What a vibrant color and taste combination! Street food in Mexico has brought me such joy. I think part of my sadness about living in the United States involves the lack of street food. How else can you experience such random and unexpected acts of happiness in the streets with so little effort? In Mexico, a typical stroll finds me passing vendors with freshly cut coconuts drizzled in lime and covered in chili. Or perhaps I stop for a fresh pomegranate or a cold sip of horchata, a drink made with almonds, rice, cinnamon, sugar and lime. I love the little street stands run by old ladies making fresh tortillas and offering fillings like "sesos" (brains) and "tripa" (tripe).

Speaking of organs and innards that North Americans don't eat, I am reminded of trying "sangrecita" (little blood) in Trujillo, Peru. The recipe for "sangrecita" includes 500 grams of chicken blood mixed with corn, onions, chili, pepper, cilantro, salt and pepper. I remember being afraid of the dish, but also feeling a sense of adventure when trying it. I didn't love it, but I sure as hell remember it.