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They say the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach, but what they don’t tell you is that it’s also the express lane to fond memories. Whether it’s the intoxicating aroma of Granny’s vegetable soup or the comforting embrace of Aunt Gladys’ funeral potatoes, our taste buds are time travelers, y’all. They transport us to moments we thought were tucked away in forgotten corners of the past. And I’m here for it! But do you remember the first time you tasted something so delicious it catapulted you into orbit? I sure do. I had forgotten about the exact moment of my foodie genesis until I met up with a friend during my stay in Santa Fe over the new year. With both of us being in the culinary field, we spoke about all things food, and our conversation revived a very important memory for me. It’s high time that I share it.
My First Culinary Love
It was the fall of 1977. I was a bony six-year-old with long hair that had no relationship with a comb whatsoever. I think my mother gave up on trying to tame my locks when she’d continuously find food entangled in them. To this day, I still get food in my hair. It’s part of who I am, I suppose.
Every Saturday, my mother cleaned the home of an elderly woman. Mrs. Griffin was her name. She wore denim skirts with blue Keds, like the ones they wore on the show The Brady Bunch. Her orange lipstick was an intense neon starkly juxtaposed with her snow white helmet hairdo. She was a kind woman, but for some reason, her piercing ice-blue eyes gave me a sense of discomfort.
My Foodie Genesis
One Saturday in particular, my mother didn’t have anyone to watch me, so she brought me to her cleaning gig. Tube socks paired with Nike canvas low tops and a tote bag full of coloring books and crayons, I was ready to go anywhere, anytime. Little did I know this seemingly ordinary Saturday would be the day that would spark a lifelong love affair with the diverse and delectable world of food.
Mrs. Griffin never minded my presence and often tried to strike up a conversation with me as I’d side-eye her with caution. But on this ordinary Saturday, she spoke a magical phrase all kids respond to: “Would you like a snack?” My eyes widened as I eagerly nodded. I followed her into the kitchen wondering, “What sort of cookie or candy am I about to destroy?” My stomach had been growling since that morning, so anything would’ve made me happy.
She tucked her cold, skinny fingers into my armpits and lifted me up to her kitchen counter. I remember my mouth accumulating saliva in hesitation like a dog waiting for his treat. She opened her cupboard and grabbed a small tin of sardines, a jar of green pimento-stuffed olives, and Saltine crackers. My face went from excitement to “What the hell is this bullshit? FISH AND OLIVES?” This woman has lost her mind. She proudly opened the tin of sardines, smiling as though she were doing me a favor. I peeked around the kitchen wall, looking for my mother in the hopes she’d rescue me from this travesty. She might as well have been in Indonesia because she was nowhere in sight.
Fireworks
I knew not to trust this blue-eyed demon. The predicament I was in introduced me to a whole new level of taking it like a champ. I was trapped with no one to save me, so I reluctantly surrendered to her wicked ways. She crafted a perfectly stacked cracker of the sardine and olive mix and handed it to me. I hesitantly opened my mouth and sunk my teeth into the shitshow of flavors that would surely have me projectile vomiting shortly after.
The cracker, crisp and unsuspecting, met its destiny with the other two accomplices – sardines and olives. As I took that first audacious bite, the salty sea swept into my palate with a wave of surprise. The flavors danced, the textures harmonized in my head, and the saltiness threw me into gastronomic ecstasy. This pile of what I thought was rubbish on a cracker sparked an insatiable curiosity for the world of food. I didn’t know it then, but it was my gateway drug that would pave the way for my lifelong love affair with flavors. And FML, Mrs. Griffin became my new favorite person on the planet. Sadly, several years later, she took her own life. But I’ll always be grateful for her and the gift that became more than just sardines and olives.
Onward and Upward With a Pinch Of Salt
In the grand banquet of life, our very first culinary love stands as the appetizer that can kick-start a lifelong feast of flavors and culinary exploration. I’m slowly learning how to shift to my happy place after an unexpected breakup, a home within my mind when thoughts try to throw me back into a season of sadness. A simple mindset shift from salty tears to briny sardines and olives, if you will. And just like that, submerging myself into a food memory snaps me out of that melancholy space and makes me feel pure bliss. Food memories can do that for you too.
I think of Mrs. Griffin often, especially when I use a table of hers gifted to me as a surface for my Instagram food photos. I polished that bitch all my childhood, so it seems fitting that it’s now mine. That encounter with her offering of sardines and olives was the catalyst that shaped me into the chef I am today. I am reminded that sometimes, the most profound influences on our lives come in the most humble of packages – be it a childhood snack or a chef’s apron. All I can say is cheers to the flavors that shaped us and to the countless more waiting to be discovered in the delicious chapters yet to unfold. Now, let’s eat.
For more food memories and new ones created from dreams, check out this blog post from 2017.
