A couple of years ago I wrote a story for National Geographic about regional foods. Not the standard mascots like Philadelphia Cheesesteak or New England clam chowder, but the obscure, sometimes incongruous but often delicious concoctions that have managed to stay within state borders.

There are plenty of offbeat delicacies associated with just one state; a huge pastry called kringle in Wisconsin, for example, or the toasted ravioli cherished in Missouri. I recently learned in a New York Times article about a Utah favorite called a pastrami burger, which as it sounds, is an over-stuffed rendezvous of two red meats. There are also lots of dishes linked to what food historians call "micro regions." It's a fairly loose term, and can be used to describe an area within a state, or larger areas that may involve a couple of states or more.

Early in my reporting I realized that people become strangely emotional when they are asked about their favorite foods. It’s as if Moon Pie or a conch fritter acts as the proverbial Madeleine, sparking a rush of memories—and a growling stomach. Some of my sources became defensive, some got excited; pretty much all of them were nostalgic. I spoke to one woman in Hawaii about Spam Musubi, a sort of sushi made with Spam, for at least an hour. Did you know that there's a festival dedicated to this canned pork product every year in Waikiki? That’s devotion! And a bartender from Nevada was so enthusiastic about Picon Punch, he mailed me everything I needed to mix the potent drink beloved by many of the west's Basque émigrés. Some North Carolina residents waxed poetic in emails they sent me about livermush, a culinary mishmash of pig parts and cornmeal. I thought it sounded pretty revolting, and I spoke with other Southerners who agreed. From California to Connecticut, everyone I talked to had an opinion about their local food, and where to find the best of it.

I can’t believe I missed pastrami burgers in Salt Lake City, but I did learn about that capital’s passion for fry sauce, a mixture of ketchup, mayo, and spices, ubiquitous in fast-food joints. Who knew such culinary quirks existed in Utah? I definitely did not.

So what lesser-known edible secrets hide within your region? Was there something you loved to eat as a kid but can't find anymore? Massachusetts, Montana, Kentucky, I have no reports yet of your regional specialties. Readers, this National Geographic reporter wants to know: What’s your state’s fare?

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