5 Food-Related Things I Wish I Could Pack But Can’t

If I could sneak a few things into my suitcase without worrying about customs, here’s what I’d bring: a bag of Costco trail mix, Florida citrus, and maybe even some good ole’ southern cooking. Of course, I can’t actually pack those things. Moving abroad means letting go of certain comforts… even the edible ones. But food has always been one of the deepest ways I stay connected to home, and the thought of leaving behind these flavors feels like its own kind of goodbye.

Here are the five food-related things I wish I could take with me to Spain. And what they represent about home, comfort, and identity.

1. Costco Trail Mix

There’s something about the simplicity of it: big tubs of salty-sweet trail mix, heavy with chocolate, almonds, and dried fruit. It’s not fancy. It’s not even particularly local. But it’s part of my grocery landscape… the quick snack on road trips, the “just grab a handful” fuel between errands, the dependable container that somehow lasts and lasts.

It represents abundance in the most American sense. Bulk bags, easy access, something always waiting in the pantry. I know Spain has its own snacks (hello, pintxos and jamón), but there’s something grounding about Costco trail mix that feels like leaving behind a tiny slice of routine comfort.

2. Florida Citrus

Oranges, grapefruits, and that specific sunny tang of fresh juice. Growing up in Florida means citrus isn’t just produce, it’s part of the identity of the place. You used to pass groves on the highway. I remember bringing a crate of oranges to relatives up north. You measure winter mornings by whether or not there’s a glass of OJ at breakfast.

Citrus feels like home soil in edible form. I can’t exactly pack a crate of oranges in my checked luggage (well, I could try, but customs wouldn’t agree). Still, citrus will always feel like the taste of my roots.

3. Southern Snacks

Pecans roasted with cinnamon, boiled peanuts from a roadside stand, sweet tea that’s basically syrup, cornbread baked in a cast-iron skillet. The flavors of the South aren’t subtle, and they aren’t delicate. They’re bold, comforting, and unapologetically regional.

These snacks are about ritual and place. They remind me of long drives through backroads, family gatherings, and a culture that doesn’t rush through its food. Even if I discover new favorites in Spain, there will always be a part of me that craves that sticky-sweet iced tea on a sweltering afternoon.

4. Family Recipes

This one hurts the most. Because it’s not just about food, it’s about memory. The dishes we ate over and over until they became tradition: casseroles, stews, the little quirks of seasoning that no one else would ever think to add.

You can’t pack muscle memory in the kitchen. You can’t tuck the smell of garlic sautéing in butter into your carry-on. Recipes are more than instructions; they’re the rhythm of hands and the echo of voices. I’ll carry those recipes in my heart and maybe, slowly, recreate them in Spain. But it won’t be the same as having them served from my mother’s table.

5. The “Weirdly Specific” Grocery Finds

Every grocery store has them: the brand of peanut butter you grew up with, the exact cereal that tastes like Saturday mornings, the frozen pizza that only feels right after a long day. For me, it’s things like giant tubs of Goldfish crackers or the perfectly chewy bagels that just don’t exist outside certain regions.

These aren’t gourmet. They’re comfort-in-a-box. Leaving them behind feels like acknowledging that daily life will change in big and small ways. And that’s okay.

Trading These for Pintxos + Markets

Of course, I can’t pack these foods with me. Customs would have a field day. But I can promise myself this: for every comfort I leave behind, I’ll discover something new.

Spain has its own edible rituals: anchovy-studded pintxos, crisp cider poured from a height, bustling markets overflowing with seafood and seasonal produce. In time, I’ll build new flavors of comfort and new routines of taste.

Food will always be a tether to home; but it’s also an invitation to belong somewhere new.