We will admit that traveling the world for a year is exciting, possibly a little daunting, but among all the reasons to travel the one that makes us, Eva and Jeremy, get up the courage for such a long and unusual journey is the food. There isn’t a country we learn about that hasn’t made us ask the question: what’s on the menu there? California (especially in San Francisco and Los Angeles) offers up a daily bounty of exotic cuisines and faraway flavors. Our noses and stomachs have been leading us further and further down the food rabbit hole for years. For example, our first taste of sushi almost 15 years ago was like a gateway drug. Ramen, Shabu Shabu and even Okonomiyaki came soon after. Indian food grew to be an unwholesome addiction for Eva, who was eating at a little “Sweets & Spices” shack 3 or 4 times a week before we left. Thai, Italian, Mexican,Vietnamese, the list goes on and on. We started cooking at home on a regular basis about two years ago, which gave us a new dimension of food appreciation. Suffice to say, we got a good basic education at what they’re eating abroad before we even got on the plane.

Over the past few days (I can’t believe we’re only been gone 12 days!?) we have been salivating at the visions of empanadas, tacos, tortas and horchatas, peppered with a little healthy fear about digestive repercussions. We are happy to report, so far so good.

In Mexico City, street food is king. Just outside the metro station we ate a Torta Mexicana from a street stand for 22 pesos, about $1.50. It featured Pork Milanese (a piece of pork pounded then breaded) a fried egg mixed with chorizo, chipotle pepper, avocado and tomato. It was so good, we went back twice. Eva also ordered a rotisserie chicken taco from a neighboring stand, which came with fiercely hot cebollitas (marinated onions). Everywhere were more flavors, more colors. Abuelitas making blue corn tortillas by hand, and huge crispy discs of tostadas splashed with the requisite green and red salsas.

After the urban sprawl of Mexico City became jungle on our trip to Palenque, we exhausted our energies exploring the Mayan ruins. A good, homey, delicious dinner had to be found to reward our hard work. Las Tinajas in town delilvered above and beyond. With our stomachs placing the order, we were soon looking at heaping portions of shrimp quesadillas, egg chilaquiles, and chicken stuffed plantain. Who knew that the side-dishes on the menu weighed about 2lbs each? We tore through everything in a gluttonous panic, collapsing against our seatbacks in the sweltering jungle evening without coming close to clearing the plates. Note to self: order only one dish at a time and re-evaluate hunger before moving on.

The incredible climb (124 miles of treacherous, winding, speed-bump laden road) to San Cristóbal put us in a shockingly cooler climate. The day had come to try some of the Mexican soups the heat had been preventing us from ordering. El Caldero came highly recommended and happened to be located just across from our hotel. Pozole, Black Bean Stew, Chilango, Chicken, Vegetable… 8 soups to choose from. But before we even managed to make a decision, a fantastic sampler of the house’s onions (done three ways: carmelized, pickled, and marinated) came to our table. Now, our obsession with onion has materialized somewhat out of thin air. A few years ago, neither Jeremy nor Eva would touch an onion, cooked or otherwise. One day a sandwich, or burger perhaps, with caramelized onions passed our lips. It tasted good. Suddenly, there were cooked onions everywhere. Finally, the floodgates opened and everything was an excuse for onions: salads had raw red onions dotted throughout, frittatas were cooked on a thick sauteéd bed of them. Mexicans love their onions. And so do we.

These were sweet, and spicy, and tangy, and mmmm…. But before we could stuff ourselves with just chips and onions — the soup arrived. Chilango (which very closely resembles what American restaurants dub Tortilla Soup) and the house special: Caldero. Caldero turned out to be a smokey black bean soup, flavored with thick bacon and chorizo. The herb which gave it the most flavor is something I haven’t looked up yet: epasote (sp?). These steamy bowls came with their own plate of garnishes, consisting of chicharron, avocado, fresh cheese and lime. The end product, once everything was added, squeezed, stirred and tasted had much more complexity that we could have expected. It was hearty, and homey, but unlike any Mexican food we had ever tried.

Crossing so much of the country in Mexico is exciting, but with all the traveling from place to place, meals don’t always get put on the schedule, and the panic of gluttony takes over. Driving through Tabasco, we had planned on seeing some caves and waterfalls but somehow nothing was where we expected it to be, and one bad experience after another left us in a tiny crossroads of a village, desperate for food with not a restaurant in sight. These small towns have plenty of food vendors who sell by the kilo, or in large quantities for families to take basic dishes home and incorporate them into a bigger meal. Nothing is really suited to the passerby. We wandered around looking for sustenance. A friendly local (who was roasting huge swaths of pork) pointed us to a chicken place on a side street. Too hungry to form sentences in Spanish we desperately tried to figure out what to ask for. No problem, apparently, as the owner put one whole chicken on the carving block and with about 6 quick hacks, presented us with a garganuan plate of flame grilled pollo. We just dived in.

Apparently, the plate came with beans, slaw, tortillas, salsa, avocado — all of which came to our table while we were too busy eating to notice. We sucked that chicken down like it was going out of style. The locals, who had ordered a nice-sized breast and some beans each, looked at us like we were from Mars. We stlll have no idea what we said, or what they said, but in the end we paid $7.50 for the moistest, spiciest, most down-right exciting grilled chicken ever. So what if we ate three times what we needed, right?