The intersection of history, memory, and flavor are on the mind of Lake Effect essayist Cari Taylor-Carlson. When I feel overwhelmed, food is my security, my safe place when I’m lonely, perhaps even my therapist. It connects me to many of my favorite memories. Ask me what I did yesterday, or last week, and I need to check my calendar to jog my memory. Ask me what I had for dinner on my wedding night fifty years ago and I’ll tell you the lamb chops were rare, the green beans came with slivered almonds, and rosemary roasted potatoes surprised my husband and me because we grew up with butter and cream laden mashed. People have different ways of storing memories, photos, journals, scrapbooks; I store mine in my mouth, trust that my taste buds won’t let me down, thankful my repository doesn’t occupy any space on crowded closet shelves. Science tells us taste bypasses the logical brain and travels to the more primitive part where instinct and memory reside. It can function as an emotional
↧