I once served a first course that was simply three wedges of tomato on a plate. Two were local, vine-ripened, red, and the third was from the mainland, pink and firm. The question from the server was simple: “Which one did you like the best?” It was explained that there was no right answer; the best one is the one you like. Every guest that night picked one of the local ones, except one person, who chose the pink one. It made me curious enough to go and pay a visit to politely ask why she picked that one. Her answer was simple: “Because I grew up eating this kind of tomato and that’s what I am used to. The vine-ripened ones are too soft.” There are so many things that we grow up eating and continue to eat today. That’s not only what we like; that’s what we know.

I know this has nothing to do with spaghetti, but what we know from growing up eating this pasta dish does. I grew up eating SpaghettiOs, ravioli, and Chef Boyardee. That’s what I knew until mom made her version of spaghetti, which is classic local — pasta on the plate, hamburger meat sauce ladled over the top, sprinkles of grated cheese from the green can and toasted garlic butter French bread. Also, going to school and eating cafeteria spaghetti introduced us all to baked spaghetti, which was like mom’s, but all thrown together and baked in a pan with different cheeses on top. This is what I knew about spaghetti and I actually liked it.

Fast-forward to culinary school. We did learn how to make tomato sauce as it was one of the classical five mother sauces; however, Italian pasta cookery was not taught in depth. One of my first jobs in a restaurant served an all-you-can-eat $1.99 spaghetti special that included a salad bar and a glass of “red wine.” It was good, but it was still in the style of my mom’s. My knowledge and experiences of spaghetti were limited, but when you don’t know any better, and that’s what you know, you are good with it.

It was finally through traveling — eating food and pastas in Italian restaurants — that I finally began to realize a whole new world that I didn’t know. As a matter of fact, I would see spaghetti pomodoro on a menu and wonder, “Why is there no meat?” Once I began to eat the real deal, I proceeded to eat a lot of pasta dishes. I not only loved it, but also became more curious than ever to learn. It wasn’t until I made spaghetti pomodoro over and over did I begin to understand it. I had to keep biting the pasta, taking it out when it was just a little over half cooked and putting it into the pan of tomato sauce, adding pasta water, watch it slowly absorb the tomato sauce and reduce in the pan until all the strings of spaghetti were just coated with the sauce. That’s also how I learned to control the doneness of the pasta to make it al dente. We are now miles ahead of childhood memories!

At home, if I make this, I have to make two pans — one for me and one for Alice. She also grew up eating canned Chef Boyardee and it makes her so happy to have that childhood memory again. Sometimes, even though we learn new things, we crave what we grew up eating. In the end, there is only one right answer — it’s the one that makes you the happiest. We are naturally creatures of habit; we find comfort in the things we know and sometimes don’t want to let go. Change is not easy for many, but having an open mind and willingness to try new things and flavors so that you can discover and learn is always exciting for me.

Chef and restaurateur Alan Wong has wowed diners around the world for decades, and is known as one of the founders of Hawaii Regional Cuisine. Find his column in Crave every first Wednesday. Currently, Wong is dba Alan Wong’s Consulting Co.