There are certain tastes and scents that immediately transport me to a very particular time and place. I love that about food. Taste memories can supply exquisite detail of a moment in time that conventional memory can’t capture.
For me, the smell and taste of my mother’s pot roast is such a memory. However, it took me years to remember the dish. When I did, my kids were small and I was feeling a bit ragged. The air outside was growing cooler and blustery and I was longing for a feeling of home that was eluding me in my own home after a day spent wrangling toddlers.
Then it hit me. I found myself craving a taste I remember as a child. I’m marching off the bus in the rain wearing my red slicker with silver snaps and walking to my home clutching a clear ladybug umbrella. Inside our home, the bright yellow kitchen is practically singing with the scents of fall embodied in my Mother’s Bavarian Pot Roast.
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