The Perils and Benefits of Traveling With Food

InIn the late ’90s, the only places to discover specific spice blends outside a handful of villages in India were within the cabinets of my parents' home in southern Connecticut. As a child, I would mindlessly explore our pantry, coming across Skippy jars filled with enigmatic powders in deep browns, reds, and oranges. Fresh masala always had a spot in the fridge crisper. Back then, I didn’t fully grasp the significance of these ingredients or how they found their way into our New England kitchen. I simply knew they transformed bland pink chicken into rich brown curries speckled with vibrant yellow turmeric and turned plain pork cubes into eye-catching orange sorpotel.

Nearly every year until my sisters and I entered high school, our family would travel to India to visit relatives. Little did I know, my parents returned not just with memories, but with flavors from home: foods from quaint villages in Mangalore, coastal towns in Goa, and bustling cities like Bangalore. They meticulously double-bagged masala packets, nearly the size of burritos, stashing them in odor-proof containers like jars from my grandfather’s medical clinic in Mumbai. Other family members took it a step further. My great aunt would vacuum-seal her homemade masala, attaching a slick label that cleverly disguised her red powder sack as a fictional store brand named Magic Masala.

These hidden treasures were not approved by U.S. Customs and Border Protection. While dry spices and condiments are typically permissible, the CBP prohibits agricultural items that could contain “plant pests and foreign animal diseases,” and homemade foods are generally frowned upon. The Department of Agriculture clarifies that travelers won't face penalties for declaring agricultural items, but inspectors may discard cherished foods. If caught smuggling, the punishment varies by Customs agent: it could be a warning or a fine. In other countries, consequences can be even harsher.

Post-9/11, the CBP tightened regulations further when Congress established the Transportation Security Administration, introducing heightened security and seemingly arbitrary rules for routine flights. This marked a cultural shift that viewed illicit foods through a different lens. The CBP now identifies “agro-terrorism” as a significant post-9/11 concern, despite its rarity. During a 2005 Congressional hearing on the threat of agro-terrorism, Connecticut Rep. Rob Simmons noted only 12 recorded instances of non-state use of biological agents since 1912, with just two being “terrorist in nature.” Regardless of the minuscule chance of such terrorism, the CBP has responded with heightened urgency, shifting focus from the “unintentional introduction of pests or diseases” to targeting perceived intentional threats hidden within agricultural items.

Even with the threat of consequences hanging over every interaction with Customs, my parents—and many other aspiring smugglers—understand the importance of savoring foods from their homeland in the U.S. When it comes to traveling with food, they embody the spirit of Goodfellas: Keep your lips sealed and never betray your companions.

My late grandfather always advised my mom against bringing food from India to America, insisting there were plenty of great options here. However, he made an exception for one cherished item: the pickles crafted by his mother from mangoes grown in their yard in Brahmavar, a small town north of Mangalore. It seems that everyone has their own special mango pickle, a dish infused with unique flavors or memories that surpass all regulations. A packet of spices, a frozen biryani block, or some intensely aromatic sausage that would wreak havoc if it leaked—these are not just simple indulgences with large carbon footprints.

For those who’ve relocated thousands of miles from their roots, the benefits are substantial. These ingredients provide a taste of home in an otherwise foreign, or sometimes hostile, environment. Studies have shown that smell is the sense most closely linked to memory, so filling a kitchen with familiar aromas can feel like a form of teleportation.

Food serves as more than just a nostalgic vehicle; it helps preserve traditions in a new land. I grew up in a Connecticut household rich with traditional Mangalorean and Goan dishes, an upbringing that required far more effort than I realized as a child. Many flavors my parents associate with home are now my own, despite my upbringing being thousands of miles away from their origins. The sensory memories they've passed on to me constitute a form of cultural heritage.

“Cooking dishes that remind me of my time in Singapore helps me get by until I can return,” says Taina Teravainen, a generally law-abiding citizen willing to risk fines to transport food. Over the past eight years in the U.S., she has frequently traveled back to Singapore, returning with curry packets, nyonya sauce (a rich blend of galangal, coconut milk, and curry leaves), garlic chili sauce, Chinese herbal soup mixes, and kaya jam (made from pandan and coconut). She wraps jars in clothes, bubble wrap, or seals them in taped Ziplock bags. These items serve as more than just a taste of home; they remind her that she has roots elsewhere as well.

For some individuals, however, it’s more about business than sentiment. Many food industry professionals find it necessary to travel with forbidden items. Erika Kubick, a cheesemonger who now calls herself a 'cheese preacher' at Cheese Sex Death, considers transporting pungent cheeses a routine part of her job. “I know it’s illegal,” she admits, “but it’s absolutely worth it. It’s absurd that certain cheeses aren’t allowed in America.” While she avoids carrying fragile, gooey cheeses that might spoil even in coolers, she has successfully flown into the U.S. with French charcuterie and raw milk butter (which she recommends pairing with cheese).

“My personal strategy is to wrap them in all my dirty laundry because some really smelly cheeses harbor a bacteria called B. linens on their rind, which is the same bacteria found in human sweat.” She also uses Global Entry to speed through Border Control with just a fingerprint scan.

“I never got through without the Customs agents pulling me aside,” recalls chef Anita Jaisinghani. “And I would just think, okay, sometimes they let me through. I’ll take my chances. If they toss it, they toss it. At least I tried.” Now the chef behind the popular Houston restaurant Pondicheri, she started flying with food in the ’80s after moving from India to Edmonton, Canada.

Without delay, she packed one of her two suitcases entirely with food on her first flight. Even after a bottle of mustard oil leaked in one of her bags, ruining her clothes, and facing scrutiny from authorities—Canadian agents once suspected her of smuggling a new drug when she tried to bring in datun, a twig used for teeth cleaning in Ayurvedic practice—she continued to covertly transport ingredients for years for research and development. After obtaining a mawa cake from the century-old Mumbai bakery B. Merwan, she reverse-engineered her own version, which quickly became a hit among her American clientele.

Chef JJ Johnson from Harlem's restaurant FieldTrip doesn't restrict himself to just foods that are hard to find in the U.S. He believes that some ingredients are simply of better quality overseas, making the risk of potential confrontation worthwhile. For instance, he claims to have sourced better turmeric in India compared to what's available in America, due to its deep-rooted significance in Indian culture for both flavor and health benefits. He notes that in India, 'that turmeric farmer, that’s their entire livelihood, and they thrive on the exceptional turmeric they produce.' In contrast, he feels the U.S. market often treats it as a trend, pushed by scientists and health advocates.

However, Johnson's track record isn't flawless. He recounts, 'My most awkward experience was coming back from Israel. The authorities there opened my bag and were so upset that they cut open the spice bags but left them inside.' When his suitcase finally arrived at JFK, it practically exhaled paprika, turmeric, and curry. 'It felt like they were trying to humiliate me, like, ‘So you want to bring home some flavors? Your clothes are going to smell like it too.’

“Customs officers have questioned me about whether I’m carrying food, and when I said no, they’ve looked at me skeptically and asked, ‘Are you sure?’” shares Teravainen. “However, having a U.S. passport and speaking in a typical American accent has likely helped me avoid harsher scrutiny.”

Regulations haven’t always been this stringent. My dodda (grandmother) arrived in the U.S. from Mangalore in the ’80s, bringing laddoos (traditional Indian sweets made with rice flour, brown sugar, and ground nuts) for her daughter and son-in-law. When a Customs agent inquired about them, she explained what they were. The agent sampled one, enjoyed it, and allowed her to pass.

As restrictions tightened and airports introduced new measures like food-detecting beagles, even the most determined food smugglers have given up their Ziplocks, especially as global ingredients become more accessible in the U.S. Jaisinghani no longer feels the need to travel with food, as Houston is now filled with Indian grocery stores.

Yet many continue to take the risk—whether for work, a taste of nostalgia, or simply the thrill of successfully smuggling forbidden items. From soup mixes wrapped in plastic to biryani hidden inside a sweatshirt, the allure of good food outweighs any potential consequences.

Ashwin Rodrigues is a writer residing in Brooklyn.

Minnie Phan is an illustrator and cartoonist based in the Bay Area, specializing in editorial and children's book illustrations.