I’ve been in Bogotá, Colombia this week on a culinary exchange. It’s my first time not only in the city and country, but also Latin America.

The first thing I ate when I landed Monday night was, of all things, a Colombian pizza. The thin, cracker-edged crust held a few pleasantly chewy bubbles, and was topped with chorizo slices, ripe plantain, corn kernels, and finished with a sprinkle of cilantro. The common corn here is nothing like the sweet corn we mostly eat; the closest thing are heirloom varieties, with big, sturdy kernels.

It was all so unlike what I had at Burt’s last week that it’s hard to believe they’re both called pizza—and a perfect first taste.