When I was 17, my father brought me a tape recording of exploding bombs from Sarajevo. He was a sound technician for the French state radio, and he traveled the world reporting on wars, presidents’ visits, and revolutions. On the nights he returned home, he would always lay out the presents and memorabilia he had collected during his trip on our big wooden table. Then he would hold up each item and explain what it was, how he came by it, and what it meant. He would let me sample all of the strange food he had brought back (Japanese crackers, South African jerky, Lebanese pastries, American gummy burger candies) and he would laugh at the faces I made when I didn’t like the taste. Through these moments with my dad, I discovered new cuisines, new countries, new people, new cultures—each more fascinating than the one before....