I've just returned from 10 days in Santa Fe, visiting my family. I didn't grow up there, but I've been visiting nearly annually my entire life, and Santa Fe's traditions, food and architecture are part of my heritage. Until recently, I've taken them for granted, but since my husband Chip has started visiting with me, I've come to realize how unique and special the place is. And as a foodie, it's given me particular delight to introduce Chip to Santa Fe's distinctive Nuevo Mexicano cuisine.

In the places I've lived—Chicago, New York, and now Atlanta—there have certainly been culinary specialties, but none to the extent of the special dishes, ingredients and even the menu lingo that New Mexico boasts. It's a place where chain restaurants and nationwide trends like fusion cuisine have not yet made a significant impact (although I was nonplussed by the fact that downtown Santa Fe now has four or five sushi restaurants...and the one I've visited is surprisingly good!).

I've spent a lot of time championing culinary causes like local and seasonal ingredients, organic [0] farming, and eating healthier. But now I realize there's one more issue that I need to monitor—that of our culinary heritage. Naturally, I'll start with my own.

What I love the most about Santa Fe cuisine is the red chile sauce [1] which is as familiar a table condiment as catsup. In my mom's refrigerator, there's always a bowl of this sauce, which is made by cooking pulverized dried red chiles with onion, garlic, oil and water. The thin sauce is spooned over everything from tamales to mashed potatoes to eggs. Green chile sauce, made in a similar way but with the green (unripe) chiles, is also a favorite... in fact, in restaurants, you'll usually get an option of red or green sauce for your enchiladas or huevos rancheros. If you answer "Christmas," you'll get a little of both.

In the winter, you'll also find a pot of posole [2] on nearly every stove. This hearty hominy stew is a standard side dish on restaurant menus, and every local home cook seems to have her own secret recipe.

The same holds true with bizcochitos—a crumbly cookie flavored with anise seed and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. I've never seen them anywhere but in Santa Fe, but here they're so common that this Christmas, the numerous cookie platters that my mom's friends dropped off each had their own version. But my favorite version is of course my mom's...and here's the recipe [2] if you want to try it for yourself. Now that I've wangled the recipe from my mother's jam-packed recipe file, I plan on adding bizcochitos to my own cookie repertoire, to keep the tradition going strong in my own life, even though I'm hundreds of miles from Santa Fe.

Whether your background is German, Polish, Mexican, Asian or any other nationality, it's important not to take for granted the specialties you grew up eating. In future visits, I intend to have my mother show me how to make her red chile sauce and her tamales. They may not taste as good in my Atlanta kitchen as they do in her Santa Fe home, but I will be happy to know I'm keeping these culinary heirlooms alive.