October is Dining Month on OnMilwaukee.com. All month, we're stuffed with restaurant reviews, special features, chef profiles and unique articles on everything food. Bon appetit!

On my way into work this morning, listening to NPR, I heard an interview with a cookbook author who said she loves the taste of figs directly from the tree so much that she can't bear to buy them in a store. And I thought, "yes!"

Although I've only eaten figs directly from the tree on a few occasions on trips to northwestern Italy, the flavor is so amazing that I've been similarly ruined for store-bought figs, which always seem to lack something. Perhaps the shipping time robs the fruit of key freshness. Or perhaps what's missing is only the power of experiential tasting.

My cousins like to joke about my passion for foods from our common ancestral hometown. They know that I love the persimmons from the tree in the courtyard, for example, and whenever we visit, they are always careful to point out that the honey accompanying the cheese, "is from Zanco." The persimmons? From Zanco. The wine? Yup, you guessed it.

And I don't deny it. I really do think it all tastes better and I know why. I know, rationally, that it doesn't necessarily really taste better than the honey, persimmons and wine from, say, nearby Alfiano Natta, or even from Provence or somewhere even further afield. But there's psychology at work in my brain that links me to my people, my historical place when I eat the same foods -- growing from the same soil -- my ancestors ate.

Anyone who would deny that experience affects taste has, I fear, never really tasted. Does a brat ever taste as good as one enjoyed while watching baseball on a sunny summer day -- even if you know that you can cook them better in the backyard?

If you've visited a winery and stood sampling the new vintage with the vintner in his cantina, you know that wine will never taste as good ever again. You can take home a case, but you won't have the smell of fermenting must mixed with dampness in your nostrils and you won't hear the tractors outside as the local farmers drop off their grapes.

However, every time you uncork one of those bottles, all of those sensory memories will rise like bubbles to the top of your consciousness and the wine will be forever special.

Have you ever had an amazing meal of simple food that you were sure you could recreate? And, despite doing everything right, something was still missing?

Ever have an amazing experience at a restaurant only to be disappointed the next time 'round?

That's because psychology plays so much into eating. Who you're dining with, how your day went, the mood you're in, where you are ... it's all a part of the experience. That psychology also keeps us trying to recreate those beautiful moments in life that center around food.

Sadly, I think trying doesn't always work. But it sure is fun.