While I'd visited other parts of Mexico before, the Central and Gulf regions, places like Taxco, Puebla (the birthplace of mole), Mexico City, and Puerto Vallarta, neither my husband, who lived in northern Mexico for two years, nor I had ventured to the Yucatan.

Our driver, Emilio, and our cultural guide, Antonio, kept glancing at their watches and speaking in quick, hushed Spanish as they navigated the packed streets of downtown San Jose. At first, I thought their thinly-masked concern has something to do with the swarms of subcompacts and mopeds zipping around the tour bus, but even as we cruised up the mountain highway, past lush coffee plantations, jungle river valleys, and mist-wrapped peaks, I could see their worry increase. When we got stuck behind a slow-moving farm truck, their stress became palpable. 

Detroit doesn’t tend to make headlines as a foodie destination.
 
It should.
 
Before moving to Detroit, Michigan, I had a grocery list of misconceptions about the Motor City, including an expectation it would be a food desert in the Midwest.
 
Instead, what I found was that Detroit holds a diverse mix of different cultures and people. And food.
 

Ironic, really – it took traveling to Toronto to discover an American original.
 

In 1989, I made my first trek to Salt Lake City’s famed Red Iguana restaurant.
 
I was just 14 then and had gone to the four-year-old Mexican restaurant during a solo trip to see my brother, who lived in the area.