Answering the question,“Where are you from?” has always stressed me out. I was born in upstate New York, then moved to Ohio, then back to New York, then Virginia… then Spain. I lived on a military base in Spain from the ages of 9-18 and left to study at Temple. I expected a lot of culture shock and homesickness, but there are some things I didn’t quite anticipate.
I didn’t realize how much I would miss the patterns of seasonal eating until I came here. In the U.S., it seems eating habits are largely influenced by the American sense of consumerism, whereas in Spain, people are more influenced by tradition. So you can see why American abundance is beyond exciting to me: the fact that you can get strawberries in October is wild, even if it dulls seasonality. However, I feel that U.S. eating habits prioritize convenience over ritual, which has led me to miss something unique Spain has to offer: the rhythm of the seasons. And this is why I’m thinking about fall food.
Fall here absolutely has its own culture: pumpkin patches, haunted houses, football games, Halloween decor, apple cider, and spiced donuts. None of that existed in Spain in the same way. Fall in America feels urban, branded, and hyper-visible. It’s all about ads, seasonal menus, and limited-edition items, while Spanish fall feels quieter and tied to nature. For me, Autumn in the Mediterranean centered around savoring the abundance of summer and hunkering down for the scarcity of winter. Fall in the states always felt thrilling and amusing. It’s about milking the last bits of summer on the brink of a cold winter.
And obviously, you can’t discuss American Autumn without the words “pumpkin spice.” It’s iconic, even if it’s commercial; it’s cozy and uniquely American. Both cultural perspectives have value, and both bring me joy in their own ways. One of the compromises of living internationally is that no matter where I go, I’ll always find something to miss—but that’s a small tax to pay for having lived such a rich life.
As a kid, I always thought Starbucks was glamorous, a taste of America. Living in a small town with few chain franchises, I would wait for road trips just to get that one pumpkin spice latte. The Commissary on base would get a small shipment of autumnal stock every year. It wasn’t enough to serve the small community, so getting a good pumpkin (if any) was paramount. Now that I live in America, it’s all less novel, but that shows how much my perspective has flipped.
Living overseas gave me a new vision of fall, though. Citrus season is October and November in Spain. I remember picking so many oranges from the orange tree in my back yard. We would juice them ourselves, and despite having orange juice with every meal, we wouldn’t be able to finish all the juice before it fermented into wine. I remember feeling chestnut stalls smoking away when I visited Sevilla. I would go to my neighbors to pick pomegranates from their trees and try every different way to extract their seeds. The cafeteria in my school served persimmons as our fruit. First, they’d serve fresh, crispy slices like apples, then as the season went on, we’d get the gooey, jammy halves with a spoon.
My cultural identity was shaped by seasonal fruits and veggies. These fruits and veg tie into memories, history, and community. I see this food as a form of storytelling. Indigenous peoples globally have eaten this way, and now it can be a tool to reconnect with land and history. In Philadelphia, the Lenni-Lenape people have been eating squash, sunflower, persimmon, and pawpaw seasonally. A lot of indigenous culinary practices have been lost or marginalized. Many of these are grown in PA, though. You can buy Kennett mushrooms, Concord grapes, and so many more to contribute to the local economy and local pride.
Grocery Stores
Now it would be foolish of me to write all of this without recognizing food deserts, budgets, and cultural habits. In Temple’s context, accessibility matters. Eating seasonal doesn’t have to mean farmers’ market aesthetic. There are so many options to eat with the seasons that are kind to your wallet and the environment. Strawberries guzzle water, whereas rutabagas, cabbage, and leeks thrive in-season, with lower footprints. Even on a student budget, you can taste October if you know where to look. I get most of my produce at Trader Joe’s on Market St. It’s easily accessible by BSL, and it’s much more affordable than other grocery stores popular with Temple students (I’m looking at you, Fresh Grocer…).
Farmers’ Markets
There are also some awesome farmers’ markets in Philly. Not all of them operate in the fall, but a few do. Youth-Led Raices Farmstand is at 2213 N 2nd St. and It’s only a 20-minute walk from campus. Sanctuary Farm is another great choice, and it’s easily accessible by bus route 3. Seasonal eating can be fun hacks and small swaps, not an expensive gourmet lifestyle. I know not everyone is a freak like me who plans their life around produce, but hear me out….
I believe strawberries taste better when you go 9 months without eating them. Then, when you do eat them, it’s their peak season, they’re sweet and fragrant, and the juices drip and stain your fingers. There’s a romance to this type of scarcity. To me, figs taste better when you can’t have them all year too. Next time you see figs at a corner store, grab them—they disappear faster than you think.
Figs
There are so many amazing ways to incorporate fall foods into a healthy, budget-friendly diet. For the last few weeks, I’ve been eating figs in oatmeal with honey and sliced almonds. Right now, Fresh Grocer has green and purple figs in stock. You can find them in the fruit fridge, where the berries and cut fruit are. They make a great addition to toast with ricotta or cream cheese. I also like them with yogurt or cottage cheese if you’re into that. Adding fresh figs to any salad is also a must. I’ve been meaning to try this fig upside-down cake for a while. If you haven’t had a fig, I recommend you give them a try. They’re not like any other fruit I can describe. They are sweet in a syrupy way, not bright or tart. They have fuzzy skin similar to a peach that you can peel or not. They have a very soft gooey texture with lots of tiny crunchy seeds inside, almost like a strawberry. To pick good figs, choose the softest ones; the firm ones are underripe and can be dry and bland.
Sweet Potatoes
You’re most likely familiar with sweet potatoes. They’re Michelle Obama’s favorite fall vegetable, as well as mine! They are rich in vitamins like A and C, fiber, minerals, and antioxidants. They’re also an affordable source of complex carbs, which give you stable energy throughout the day. I absolutely love adding sweet potatoes in my chili. It bulks the chili up and keeps you fuller for longer (on a college-friendly budget too). You can put sliced sweet potatoes in an oven, or air-fryer, with a drizzle of oil for super easy sweet potato fries; you may even use them for a super creamy autumnal soup. This website is a great resource, detailing Jenne Claiborne’s vegan-fusion soul food with hundreds of sweet potato recipes.
Persimmons
Persimmons are another beautiful, sweet fall fruit. You can have them in 2 ways: Fuyu persimmons that are fresh and crispy like apples, or Hachiya Persimmons which are soft, jammy, pudding-y and ripe. Fuyu persimmons are squat and can be eaten firm. They’re great in salads, but I mostly eat them in slices as a snack. Hachiya persimmons are acorn-shaped and must be eaten very soft and jelly-like. This variety is amazing for baking desserts like persimmon pudding, tarts, or scones because of their rich, sweet flavor and smooth texture when ripe.
Romanesco
If you were a kid who hated broccoli, I have news for you. Romanesco is broccoli’s hot Italian brother! You can get it frozen at Trader Joe’s or fresh at Sprouts and Whole Foods. Romanesco tastes like a hybrid of broccoli and cauliflower and it’s amazing in mac ‘n cheese. You can roast it with butter, herbs, and garlic or my favorite: chopped into small bits and used as a ground meat replacement. I used it in a lasagna earlier this year which was amazing!
These are a few ingredients and recipes I’ve used to balance both my ideas of fall. American fall has its own flavor—pumpkins, costumes, and tailgates, and that I wouldn’t trade away. I don’t hate pumpkin spice, but my fall memories are flavored in chestnut and citrus. Both versions of fall taught me something: Spain gave me patience, while America gave me excess. Together, they make me appreciate this season even more.