"Towanda!"

There are times when finding the most elaborate of plates becomes the pinnacle of your entire touristic career. And then there are times when the simplest of dishes creates a memory so long-lasting that the first can never compare.

About three years ago, I drove down to North Carolina from Colorado, the longest drive I would make yet, on a move that was supposed to be the best decision of my life. I was going back to Orlando, Florida, to make my dreams come true. I had hope and a new job waiting, my family and the rest of my life. There was no way that I would not fulfill everything that I’d come to Florida for.

It was hours upon hours—eight at a time—of driving along I-70, taking in the sights on a stomach mostly empty, fed only on coffee and snacks, chips and water. But I also wanted to wait to find a good place to eat before we stopped; not expensive, not fashionable, but good. I wanted to do the ultimate tourism stop; find a small, local gem—a landmark, even—like an old bookstore in downtown-anywhere, because the Puerto Rican in me seeks historical places like the ones back home, that I can come back to every time I visit or recommend to others.

Well, on this trip, we made none of those stops! Isn’t that how every well-planned trip goes?

However, on the other side of the road, going south on I-95 and bordering North Carolina, we found a Southeastern restaurant chain called Fatz Café that I’d never heard of (the extent of my knowledge on East Coast cuisine used to be the McDonald’s cart at Magic Kingdom and Golden Corral). There, I had my very first bite of what would become one of my go-to appetizers at restaurants: fried green tomatoes. As soon as my best friend requested them, a deep frown delineated my forehead. "We just drove eight plus hours on an almost empty stomach and you want to get tomatoes? Fried? Green?"

Judging by the color, I was already very skeptical about this new dish that I never even knew existed. I’d heard of sautéed tomatoes and poached tomatoes and diced tomatoes and tomato bisque and tomato puree, but fried tomatoes? Green? It was beyond my imagination, and I’m a writer.

Well, to be fair, I'm also not a cook.

But, precisely because I’m a writer (you know, we’re researchers)—and because I was exceedingly hungry after a straight eight-hour drive—I gave them a try. It was on that day, at that sunset hour, that I uncovered the best kept secret of the eastern coast: that fried green tomatoes are, as the 1991 film suggests, not just for the stomach but also for the soul. Ours came lovingly settled on a bed of sultry cheese grits. They were expertly garbed in a thin layer of fried, seasoned breading that was perfect to the crunch, and dressed in a scrumptious aioli that gave its already mouthwatering taste a characteristic house flavor. It made me want to lick the plate in public. I should have.

The remarkable thing about fried green tomatoes is, of course, that you are allowed to eat them, as opposed to green potatoes, which you are not. And these young love-apples are not actually unpleasant but very subtly sweet smelling and tasting, with a firm, semi-wet texture. They are a delightful surprise to the palate and a taste to keep coming back for. If I didn’t love tomatoes before, I did after I had my first bite of these. I instantly understood the use of a young tomato instead of a mature one: the firmness and unique taste of its unripe state is what makes this delectable dish possible; not too sweet, not too bitter; not too tender, not too stiff; green tomatoes are just right for its breadcrumbs and your mouth.

Strangely enough, the east-southern coast doesn’t have too many restaurants that serve fried green tomatoes, in any season. I say it should be the opposite. I say we should have more fried green tomato options in menus than restaurants; garlic fried green tomatoes; sriracha fried green tomatoes; chimichurri fried green tomatoes; wasabi fried green tomatoes; fried green tomato cheesy bites; fried green tomato burger…

Why not? Did I not come to live to the land of freedom and opportunity?

“If you’re not eating a fried green tomato, you’re not in Florida.”

“If you didn’t start this meal with fried green tomatoes, you missed South Carolina.”

These are the city mottos that this country should be proud to bear on plaquettes in welcome centers.

As it turns out, moving to Orlando was not the best decision of my life; bringing my best friend along on the trip was. Without her, I wouldn’t have known what fried green tomatoes were. My life actually got worse when I got here, too! But, who knows? Maybe I'll find the unexpected, here in Florida, after all. Maybe, I’ll write the next best seller. And maybe I'll do it while eating a plate of fried green tomatoes by the window sill. The sky is the limit.

“Towanda!”