There is nothing like paying a visit to your hometown to make you feel like a fish out of water. I really do not know how I survived in D.C. as long as I did in a lot of ways. My mother is the quintessential D.C. political glamazon. She has big, beautiful blonde hair that is never out of place. She has a suit for every sort of occasion and is always perfectly coiffed and made up, even if she is just running out for a carton of milk. As soon as I moved west, I let my brown hair flow free of products and styling, bought my first pair of jeans since high school and invested in fabulous face creams so I would never have to wear a stitch of make up again. However, I do believe you never really grow out of your hometown food beliefs. You will never see a Chicago native put ketchup on a hot dog, hear a New Yorker tell you he is craving a deep dish pizza or have instant grits for breakfast in Alabama. My food preferences are torn between L.A. and D.C. I spent my early childhood in California. My parents migrated west, following the music of The Dead and settling, amongst many other stereotypical liberal hippie havens, in the Haight Ashbury district but I grew up on the East Coast in Washington D.C. My everyday eating preferences are very much southern California cuisine. I like the Mediterranean influences of healthy fats like olive oil and avocados. I’ve been a vegetarian on and off much of my life (taste preferences) and cheap alternatives, like chickpeas or tempeh, are as easily accessible as fresh white fish and grass fed beef. My first food related delight when I moved out here...