For me, like many of my fellow seniors, these past few weeks have been a bit of a flurry. College admissions results, and the impending decision deadline, mean that it’s now or never to decide where I’m going to spend the next four years of my life. And so, I’ve been doing my due diligence—planning and executing day trips to various universities on the East Coast and looking up graduation and employment rates. I’ve drawn up spreadsheets and started folders in my notes app. I’ve looked at picture after picture on the Class of 2027 prospective students’ accounts of potential universities, trying to picture myself fitting in with the different people who’ve been brave enough to announce that they’re not quite committed yet, but the school is “definitely one of my top choices!”

It’s all been very confusing. Still, I’ve found that determining my place of best fit boils down to a few more important things. Besides the educational opportunities, potential walking distance to classes, quality of dorms, sociability of my possible future classmates, beauty of the campus, and the myriad of other important factors when it comes to deciding what college I’m going to attend, what I’ve been thinking about during my visits has been the food. Specifically, the food that I’ll be eating for the next four years in the various dining halls of whichever university I attend, though the quality of the restaurants and ice creameries around campus have definitely also been something to consider.

With all that in mind, however, I’ve come to a bitter conclusion—my biggest takeaway from visiting colleges is that my new home away from home will likely not be able to compare to San Diego when it comes to eats and treats. I enjoyed the potstickers in Princeton’s buffet spread (6/10), and Stanford’s poke bar was solid (7/10), but can anyone really match up to the veritable feast my own mom whips up whenever we have family friends over? Line chefs can do it well, but not even those from the likes of the Ivies can do it as well as she can (plus, the mint chocolate chip brownies from their dessert bar were a little overbaked).

So, here I am on the brink of making a life-changing decision, and I’m having to take into account the fact that I will almost certainly be saying goodbye to the culinary greatness of San Diego. No more falafel kids meals from Pita 22, no more celebratory scooping at One Paseo. Instead, now that I’ve decided I’m going to Stanford, I’ve started coming to terms with the fact that I’ll have to adjust to a new Salt and Straw—new places, new people, and new flavors. And since six hours is going to be a long time to drive just to eat a home-cooked meal, I’m going to savor each and every last one I have left.