Déjà Food
Intense feeling of memories and nostalgia triggered by smells or tastes
The ghosts of fall have arrived again laden with the aroma of pumpkin spice and apple pie. The morning air hits me with the impact of opening the freezer door on the 4th of July. It is a warning that the vibrancy and life force of summer are waning, soon to be replaced by blinking traffic lights and empty, windswept beaches. The crisp autumn air that heralds our descent into shorter days is also a conduit to one of humanity’s greatest senses, smell.
The gift of smell is one of the chef’s primary tools in the kitchen, and it is also a powerful time machine that would make H.G. Wells proud. Aromas have the power to trigger a response in our brains that can transport us to a different place and time. During the holiday season I seem to experience more “deja food” than at other times of the year. Perhaps it’s a result of getting older and missing friends and relatives who are now empty chairs and fond memories at the holiday table.
Truly deja food can strike anywhere and anytime. The smell of bread pudding has brought me to tears as I realize I’m not in my mom-mom Halliday’s kitchen nor am I ten years old trying to steal a caramelized corner bite to calm my hunger. As I regain my sense of place and realize I still have a wedding to serve, I smile and think of the woman that was one of my first cooking instructors.
Not all smell memories are consistently positive for chefs; some can trigger culinary PTSD and flashbacks. Burnt bacon puts me back as a rookie breakfast cook getting screamed at by a sadistic sous-chef for turning a case of bacon into burnt charcoal. Even those memories spark a smile reminding me of how far I’ve come in my career.
Deja food has the power to take you to a favorite meal or restaurant or remind you to call a former colleague who you haven’t talked to in a while. Vanilla always reminds me of pastry chefs when I was teaching. Baking bread reminds me of my colleague Dan Matt, a true artisan of anything in a loaf.
Sometimes smells and sounds trigger real physical responses like salivating—does the name Pavlov ring a bell? As I have aged, the involuntary reactions have become more welcome, reminding me of the full, rich career I have experienced.
Favorite holiday aromas mean favorite holiday dishes. This is my way of bringing the past to the repast. Time to talk turkey. While occasionally a roasting turkey takes me to the days of serving a thousand people at the Grand Hotel, it always ends with me at a table watching my grandfather carving the turkey. That aroma can release a whole meal of flavors from the prison of memory, from creamed onions to sage stuffing and warm pumpkin pie.
Cinnamon apples. Christmas growing up was a day of excess. Excessive toys, people and food. When we finished plundering the boxes from under the tree it meant it was time for breakfast/brunch. Brunch meant fruitcake, never eaten, always present, and mom’s apple crepes. Tissue-paper thin shells, bursting with apple lava. The anticipation of the caramel goodness laced with brandy left me with some permanent scar tissue but was the truly fine line between pleasure and pain. Baking apples always reminds me of my mom on Christmas Day.
Holidays are often working days for chefs. One small way to eliminate the sadness of working holidays is to bring your family to the restaurant in the form of their favorite foods. Sharing their memory in menu items is a way to bring their love to your guests.
Food traditions connect us to our ancestors and become edible history for the younger generations. A few years back my sister-in-law’s family found a long-lost chestnut dressing recipe. The ink was fading away, and the measurements and terminology were archaic and not precisely clear to my modern thoughts. The result was a treasure chest of memories for her family.
This Holiday season don’t reinvent the wheel with something modern or trendy; instead bring the past alive with the aroma of those people who enriched your life. From my family’s flavor vaults I offer these memories.
Mom’s Apple Crepes; Dad’s Friday Turkey and Wild Rice Soup; Mom-mom Halliday’s Pumpkin Pie and Sage Stuffing; and Muller Family Chestnut Dressing. As you gather with family friends this holiday season, take a deep breath and inhale the aroma of your history.
Recipes from this issue:
