Books, Memories and Food

I wanted to expand a little on my previous post in regards to our food beliefs and rituals and how they develop. I’m sure each reader can imagine a time, place or a distinct smell that conjures up a specific food memory. The smell of fresh cookies or the feeling of a holiday dinner for some, others respond to the smell of food on the grill or the taste of the first ice cream cone of the summer, but whatever it is, it came from somewhere. Do you know where? Do you ever stop to think about it?
I have been thinking about it a lot lately, obviously. I found myself at the library today perusing the cooking section. (Yes, I said the library. Yes, people still go there. In these wayward economic times, we should all find ourselves spending more time at the local- read free- public library!) I have a habit of looking up books, not writing down the exact call number and wandering an entire section for hours. I did this today, much to the chagrin of a young man trying desperately to reshelf books. I really mean drift, and I’m sure to anyone trying to navigate around me that it is super-annoying. I do it anyway.
What amuses me during my wandering is what books catch my eye, and I generally lose complete track of what I was looking for in the first place. I admit it- I am a mess. The first books I pick up are one about living and eating in Tuscany, one about church suppers, and one about a New York tea shop. Each included recipes and rhetoric, which by the way, are my favorite to read. I love stories about recipes, families who cook, travel involving food, and just food in general. I enjoy when someone’s prose can expertly describe a roast to the point my mouth is watering, and then follow with the recipe so that I can try it out myself. How great is that?
Each of the books I picked out did exactly this, and they are a tribute to food memories of my past. My Nana used to take me to church suppers in New Hampshire and across southern Maine. I heart brown bread made in New England, and pretty much anything created by the Church Social Club. Church suppers remind me of my Nana, who I miss dearly. Tuscany is- an undeniably beautiful landscape, friendly people, great wine, and food that is to-die-for. I spent a brief period of time there shortly after college and am drawn to anything mentioning the region, as if it is time-stamped on my soul. The teashop happens to be a favorite spot in Manhattan. Before I lived here, each time I visited I requested that my friend take me there. When I first moved to NYC, I used to get lost trying to find it, and haven’t been in quite some time. Immediately upon seeing the book, I can taste the tea and scones with clotted cream.
I am drawn to stories- food with history, recipes that carry their past with them, and rituals handed down through generations. My favorite birthday gift was given to me by my mother last year. She poured over recipes and books to make a culmination in the form of a recipe book of handwritten recipe cards from a number of recipes she wanted me to have. Some old, some she’s made for me a thousand times, and some she just thought I would like. It was so endearing- I am a total sucker for a recipe handwritten on a 4×6 or 3×5 recipe card. She gave me a whole book of them. My hope is that this little book lives on long after the two of us, and gives someone something to talk about decades from now. Who can tell, perhaps someone will find it when wandering the cooking section at their local public library…