Hassan Kadam said it perfectly – Food is memories.
Ok, I DEFINITELY watch too many Cooking Movies! (Hundred Foot Journey quote).
But it is so very true. I admit it. When I dream of a place and time, I’m probably thinking of the food.
I’m reminiscing what I ate as I sat on the sidewalk cafe in Paris, and it brings me right back there – triggering me to the sounds, the smells, the hustle on the street, the sketchbook I was filing my at that very moment – that I still have – designing an entire line of couture as I sat on the red and white cafe chair, glass of wine in hand, finishing the small meal over the lingering course of a few hours… I had nowhere specific to be and for all intents lost, was traveling much on my own.
Or what was served at that remote ‘down this dirt road’ place perched casually along the Mediterranean in Crete. When I think of that fresh caught fish still smirking on the platter I can see the dust as we wound down the – road? path? – in our caravan-for-six, way off the beaten path, on our way back from a beach of pink sand. We were the only table, and it didn’t seem to matter. I still feel the warm sun and can taste the hot fish, served simply with a wedge of lemon plucked straight from the tree beside us, as the kids ran out to the waters edge and back, laughing together.
Every time I open a jar of my canned peaches, the smell takes me back to the fresh Freestone Peaches as I was peeling and slicing every single one, and to the place I always bring them home from. The Okanagan is a land of fresh, sweet fruit and vineyards lining the lake where the kids would play on those hot summer days and iPads were forgotten.
Now up to 70+lbs of Peaches are canned at every summers end, and we consume them with ice creams and French butter cakes all year long, or gift them to gracious hosts for having us over to experience their version of food and friendship for a night.
A sunny cafe along the coast of Italy, with its simple yet magnificent, buttery cheeses, tomatoes and basil drizzled with a rich, likely local, olive oil and I’m right back there with my Hubby and boys on our Riviera road trip every time I see this photo. Brightly painted boats swayed in the port a few feet away, lulling us along with filling bellies into pure contentment. Pure, ripe ingredients served without fuss, for two boys growing attuned to food and all its natural nuances.
When our senses of smell, sight and taste along with the surrounding noises are all engaged in a moment, I suppose we’re just more likely to remember it, especially if we were happy in that moment. These memories can be vivid enough to reach out and touch them. And at the core of each? Food. A meal. An ingredient. A taste.
And, I’m so fortunate as to have many of these happiest of moments to recall, and more so that they so often include my own family.
What’s your favourite food memory, ALL YOU new Followers?!! (I see ya!)
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