What smells do we most remember?

Smells—they are quite wonderful and I'm not just talking about food.

Do we only remember them when we smell them?

I have a really good flavor memory. I can recall tastes pretty easily and even describe them, especially if I close my eyes.

Smells, though—I don't think I think about them until, well, I smell them.

The smells of the forests of the firry northwest clearly smell different from the ones filled with aspens in Colorado.

Or, like this morning when I walked out at some inhuman hour of 4:47 a.m. outside of Boston. The smells—wow! What a rush of childhood that overwhelmed the senses. The humid mixture of nature overpowered and filled my olfactory system. It made me pause mid-stride just to inhale the wonder of life, or at least the memory of life.

If you asked me to describe my early years, I expect I would use words that would describe school, cars, friends, but smells? Not likely. Though I might now, now that I am thinking about it. I wonder what words an aromachologist would use.

Recently, while I was waiting for the pilot car to make its U-turn to lead us all up the one-lane mountain pass road on my way to pick up the cherries, I sat with my windows open, enjoying the smell of the Pacific Northwest forest, a wonderful and fond memory that comes from my childhood, as well.

I wonder about these smells, these memories, these memories of smell, and how much they might influence what we choose to eat.

From the city to the forest, to the ocean, to the campfire, whatever it might be and how influential smells are to our memory of the foods that we remember?

In thinking of the corn on the cob that we spoke about last week, or thinking of the salt and pepper chicken the kids made over the campfire that took forever to cook, that was so delicious that when we finally ate it, it was a special moment.

Was it the taste? Or the texture? The campfire? The smells? What part of the experience made it a special, memorable memory?

Or, was it that we were just plain hungry?

It's those food memories that we like to grasp and hold onto.

The memories of food are sometimes the very best, most joyful memories we have.

I think of those moments of memories about food, the sharing of family dishes from Jell-O to popcorn to hotdogs and hamburgers, to peach crisps, to apple pies, to stuffed tomatoes, to crispy carrots, and of course, to cherries.

And then the familiarity of Thanksgiving and how the home fills with the distinct aroma of a turkey cooking too long, the multitude of pies, the green beans with almonds, stuffing—whatever smells they might be, they bring with them the memory, the flavor of life.

Smelling the memories of food in my world helps make life worth living, sharing, and caring! Bon appetit!