One of the great things about the Houston restaurant scene is its diversity.

Growing up the food of my people was tuna casserole made with cans of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup. It was Oscar Meyer bologna wrapped around baked beans and Wonder Bread sandwiches of butter and sugar.

My people were not gourmets.

Going out to eat as a military kid meant Thanksgiving Day at the enlisted men’s mess where plastic cornucopias spilled over with oranges and walnuts and hard candies. Meat was a once-a-week treat in our home; usually fried chicken after church on Sunday.

My first taste of “ethnic” food came when we moved to Germany, not exactly a bastion of culinary delight, but for me a wealth of exotic tastes. While other Americans bemoaned the lack of white bread and American ice cream, I lapped gelatos and inhaled the scent of pumpernickel and rye.

Touring Europe was a nonstop feast for one famished for edible culture: From candlelit Parisian bistros to corner pretzel stands in Bavaria, it was heaven.

Back in America, Texas seemed exotic. San Antonio was almost like another country with its Tex-Mex eateries offering spicy enchiladas and paintings of our Lady of Guadalupe. And there was comradeship, beer and beef at volunteer fire department barbecues and country music and secret recipes at chili cookoffs.

There were Indian restaurants serving Tandoori Chicken and baskets of warm naan and New York delis filled with chopped chicken liver sandwiches.

I kept a bottle of champagne in the fridge and I taught my mother to boil live lobsters (a hit) and made eggs Benedict for Father’s Day (not a hit). I served my sister, a missionary doctor visiting from Colombia, an elegant meal ending with French crème brulee.

“Ah,” she said, disappointedly, “flan.” Who knew two cultures shared the same dessert yet viewed it differently?

In Austin, I found Thai and vegetarian eateries, as well as the original Whole Foods store where fresh and exotic ingredients abounded. In Houston I found white-table cloth dining, elegant foods and wines; authentic Mexican restaurants serving rabbit with red mole; and Italian eateries where towers of Osso Buco reared up from plates, yielding succulent marrow.

Barcelona hits Uptown Park

As for the taste of Spain, there are dozens of eateries here that offer up the taste of the Iberian Peninsula: divine tapas from Tintos to the wonderful pallela at Mi-Luna Tapas and Restaurant Bar in Rice Village.

But apparently, for home chefs, the availability of Spanish ingredients is not readily come by.

“Spain has so much to offer,” says Sonia Garcia of KREA Global, at the recent Discover the Taste of Spain Spanish Food & Gastronomy Workshop held at The Tasting Room in Uptown Park.

The event was a Spanish cornucopia of all things edible and drinkable from Spain.

“The products do well in other states, but Texas is still the big unknown,” Garcia says.

Hard to believe considering the plethora of pastas, stuffed olives, cheeses, nuts, wines and fish displayed at the event.

Yes, fish.

Anchovies were well represented at the event for local chefs and importers. They were everywhere — jarred, zip locked and even as eggs.

I adore caviar, who doesn’t? But I had never tasted anchovy eggs before. El Lonia’s had a lovely red fish egg. Delicate, but not as salty as the Russian varieties nor as large as the salmon fish eggs. But for the price, about $4 a jar, it is a wonderful little addition to crackers, toast, eggs or pizza.

This is not Ossetia caviar, but is a lovely substitute for less expensive fish eggs. It’s a great cheap version to plop on top on of baked potatoes with sour cream or to top on omelets.

But, sadly, you can’t buy it here yet.

Hello, Central Market, are you listening?