Nourishment through memories

Dearest,

How does your tummy feel? Is it full to bursting from your last meal or is is rumbling, not quite satisfied? Were you even aware of how its felt?

If you think about some of your favourite food can you pinpoint what it is about it that you love? Is it the warmth it induces from its spiciness or is it the refreshing and light zing it leaves in your mouth? What I love most about food is it’s ability to invoke memories and emotions triggered by its taste and smell.

Thinking of my grandparents, food features in all the good memories. My Nana, who always had a microwaved Granny Smith apple for her dinner. I have no recollection of her ever eating with us. The smell of cooked apples transports me back to her kitchen, radio on, her singing away, extracting the apples flesh from the wrinkled skin, standing at the kitchen island, spoon in hand as it sat in the off yellow microwave dish.

She also made the best apricot jam. Slightly sloppy, it spread easily across whatever item was lucky enough to be paired with it. Oh how I miss it and wish I had her recipe. Oh how I miss her and wish she had time to teach me.

My other Nana was a stew queen - thick and rich, screaming out for thick white bread lathered with equally thick butter. What wonderful lunches they were to share kai and kōrero. I have so many more questions to ask that will never be answered in her voice, though I will forever be grateful for her introducing me to the ultimate cuisine pairing - Rice Bubbles and custard! My dearest, if you have never tried this I highly recommend. A real joy trigger to start the day.

My grandfather passed when I was in primary school but from him my foodie memory is grapefruit. The big old fashioned yellow skinned as big as your head variety. They were so sour your mouth pursed smaller than you thought possible and your body contoured involuntarily ending in a little jump and shiver of your shoulders.

But his preparing them the night before, cutting in half, separating each segment with a knife then showering each half in sugar transformed these garden missiles (one or two may have been thrown) into delictiably sweet explosions to start the day. I sometimes wonder if his ever present pipe aroma also played its part. I still love the smell of pipe tobacco to this day.

My Pop was who taught me to fish. The patience of that man is astounding to reflect on - especially when this granddaughter absentmindedly turned swiftly resulting in the line and hook she was holding, to lodge itself in his nose. The pain must have been excruciating - made even worse when we wrote a poem about it and recited it to him!!

Gingernuts dunked in a hot drink also remind me of him. He had a dark brown coffee cup (which he detested anyone cleaning). Coffee cup and gingernuts in hand as he shuffled from the kitchen back to his chair in the lounge. My children remember the jar of liquorice all sorts - and the smell of stale cigarettes.

I realise how blessed I am to have these wonderful memories of my tipuna. I think of them often and regret the ignorance of youth that we have all the time in the world. We don’t.

What food memories do you have or are there any smells or tastes that transport you to another time? I hope you get to enjoy a nourishing meal that you love and even better when you get to share it wither others. Sharing brilliant ideas and thoughts, sharing your brilliant self.

I also hope you can create the space to notice every part of the meal, who grew it, who prepared it, how it looks on the plates, how it smells, how it tastes, what it feels lik in your mouth with each chew and what it leaves you with after you finally swallow.

Take care dearest, of yourself, of others, of your thoughts, of your actions and of our wonderful world.

You are worthy - always

Ngā manaakitanga - many blessings