Comments on: Food as Memory:

By: Rebekka

Rebekka — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 17:59:48 +0000

That is BEAUTIFUL, the post is beautiful, your blog is beautiful

By: Hungry For Cookbooks

Hungry For Cookbooks — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 18:03:32 +0000

There are so many memories in my life associated with food. I remember a trip to “the Lake” where Patricia (pronounced Patreesha) and I ate massive amounts of tortilla chips and limes, licking our fingers after each bite. Tomatoes remind me of my grandparent’s house where all summer long I ate the red juicy fruits like apples. Artichokes remind me of our last vacation to Monterey, California where I fell even more in love with food and my husband, Joshua. Sometimes Joshua and I take a bite of food, look at each other in unison, and moan. Food and memories are delicious!

You have a lovely blog. You are really in touch with your senses. I can almost taste and smell the beet root salad right now!

By: lo!

lo! — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 19:57:12 +0000

You’ve totally got me with this one, Becky. Raw beets are a thing of beauty — and they’re just lovely with a bit of orange.

Makes me wonder what memories will be made while eating this dish!

By: lisaiscooking

lisaiscooking — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 23:40:26 +0000

Beets and oranges or clementines are perfect together. My Mom was visiting, we got to the farmers market bright and early, and we found tiny, new Spring beets. Roasted and drizzled with a maple, orange glaze, they were the best part of that year’s Easter meal.

By: Becky

Becky — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 18:57:51 +0000

Sean — yep. No saturation required — fresh beets are stunning to behold!

By: Sean

Sean — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 18:50:34 +0000

I don’t like beets, must have been a traumatic childhood memory, but the photos are so striking that I find myself tempted to give them another go. Is that their real color?

By: Carrie

Carrie — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 18:25:43 +0000

It’s funny but I think I can remember having cake for the first time on my first birthday. It might be impossible for me to remember, but my dad tells the story about how I reacted to the sweetness, which I’d never experienced before. He says that after one bite my face lit up and I leaned forward into the cake and kicked my legs, and when he tells it it’s as if I can remember being there. And I remember what it tasted like, or maybe I just know what it tastes like and project backward to that time. Which makes me think, too, that food memories and all memories are changed over time by the things we tell ourselves or are told. I love this post and love thinking about how memories are made.