Marcel Proust, a French novelist, wrote about how the smell of a madeleine cake dipped into a lime-blossom tea, unleashed a rush of brilliantly-clear memory: "and as soon as I had recognised the taste of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-blossom which my aunt used to give me ... immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like a stage set ... and with the house the town, from morning to night and in all weathers, the Square where I used to be sent before lunch, the streets along which I used to run errands, the country roads we took when it was fine."
For me, a pot of green beans simmering on the stove immediately transports me to my Mamaw Shirley's house. Her fresh green beans, flavored with bacon and onion salt, are cooked for hours. I have never tasted better. Just the sight of green beans reminds me of the many family gatherings held in her home. Though there are many rooms to choose from, living room, dining room, sitting room, somehow everyone always ends up standing around the kitchen hovering over her as she works. The green beans act as magnets pulling us all together.
What smell or taste brings back a memory for you?
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The smell of fresh coffee beens brings me back to the days of my childhood bliss and mischief. I know I am still pretty much a kid, but I am talking about the times where the simplist of things sparks a sort of curiousity inside a childs brain. My childhood friend and I used to always find something new to explore, and one day at the local grocery store, we wandered passed the coffee aisle. Coffee bean dispensers covered the walls in neat and orderly rows and columns. Every flavor imaginable graced the wall of that supermarket aisle. Being the curious kids we were, we searched to find the flavor sounded like it would please both our pallets. We found peppermint coffee. We dispensed exactly two beans from the container, but as soon as it was opened a whirlwind of aromas emitted from the beans filled our noses. We each took one bean and stuck it in our mouths. Immediatle we began chewing, but it didnt take long for us to realize it was not going to taste like peppermint. We both ran outside and spit out the unpleasent taste of the bean. Then, we looked at each other and began to laugh the longest laugh I have ever done. We were filled with joy the rest of the day, laughing at our on stupidity.
The smell of my ribs on the BBQ always take me back to afternoons at my Opa's house. Whenever I smell ribs I remember my family and I at my Opas house on cool spring and summer days out on the back porch waiting to eat. We would all be attracted to the back yard when we smelled the hot suculant ribs cooking. I remember my mouth used to water and I would try to help my Opa so that he would get the ribs done sooner, but I never was able to help. We would watch as the ribs finished and he pulled them off the BBQ, waiting to dig in. Unfortunatley he would always make us wait, his only reasoning was that they were still too hot to eat. So we would wait and when we were alowed to eat we enjoyed the perfect combination of spices and other flavors that we did not recognise. Still to this day whenever I smell ribs on the BBQ my mind drifts away to those days when my family and I gathered on the back porch to eat the best ribs I still have ever tasted.
Whenever I smell hot greasy bacon cooking in the morning, it always takes me back to my yesteryears when I would spend the night with my Nana and Papaw on the weekends. Every Saturday morning I was there, I would wake up to the wonderful smell of bacon. The incredible aroma would literally wake me up from sleep. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time. I didn't want to get up because I would be sleeping so good, but I was also yearning for some delicious bacon. Nana's bacon was also the very best ever. No bacon could ever compare to hers.
When I hear the sound of an audience clapping after a Friday night football game it takes me back to Tusculum Colledge. It was my freshman year at Powell High School and my first time preforming with a marching band. We had worked hard all summer and the begining of the school year to get ready for competition. We got on the field and played our best. We were all nervous. I can remeber exactly where i was and whose hand i was holding. We were all tightly bunched together holding hands and not breathing. I will never forget when they called out "Powell High School Marching Panther Band" for Grandchampions. We were in tears, we didnt know what to do. So us being who we are ran off the stands, jumped the fence, and tackled each other for about thirty minutes or so. We all got in our big huddle and did the band dance on that field that night. Sure we got some looks but we didnt care. It was a night that is unforgettable to us. We cried untill we laughed and we laughed untill we cried and these are the best days of our lives. So on Friday nights when we hear the crowd cheer for us it takes us back to that amazing night. It was the most breath taking and unforgettable expierence of my life.
I remeber when my father used to live in the old, stinky house in Oak Ridge. When my sister, brother, and I were with him he would always make the same breakfast: SteakUms and egg patties. The simplest thing, and not too great tasting, sparks my memories. The SteaksUms were bacon impersonators. They smelled so good, yet tasted like rubber, but I didn't mind. I would always read the store brand box and how it said, "You will have a better day after you eat SteakUms." The eggs surprisingly tasted good despite the brownish, yellow look when my sister tried to cook them. They could only be found in the shopping center no bigger than a child's bedroom. To this day when I smell steak cooking, I think of that terribly old house in Oak Ridge and my family cooking in the kitchen on a saturday morning. Best breakfasts I have ever had.
The smell of homemade bread cooking always brings me back to memories at Christmas time. My mom makes homemade rolls every year and takes them over to my mamaw and papaw's house for Christmas Eve dinner. When the whole family gets around the table the homemade rolls are always a favorite. Steaming hot from being recently pulled out of the oven they're always a favorite and are eaten quickly. This is one of my favorite parts of Christmas and the rolls are the best smell.
For me, the smell of fresh grass, popcorn, and perfume takes me back to some of my favortie memories. The mixed smells of all those things is what i smell on my way to the field for a football game. "Welcome To The Jungle" by Guns & Roses is blaring in the background. Sitting in the tunnel just waiting to run out onto the field and be introduced by thousands of screaming fans is the most nerve racking feeling in the world. We then run out onto the field and run through the "P" made by the band. That is the best feeling you can ever have. So the mixed smell of frsh grass, popcorn, and perfume brings me back to my football games from alst year.
For me, the smell of fresh grass, popcorn, and perfume takes me back to some of my favortie memories. The mixed smells of all those things is what i smell on my way to the field for a football game. "Welcome To The Jungle" by Guns & Roses is blaring in the background. Sitting in the tunnel just waiting to run out onto the field and be introduced by thousands of screaming fans is the most nerve racking feeling in the world. We then run out onto the field and run through the "P" made by the band. That is the best feeling you can ever have. So the mixed smell of frsh grass, popcorn, and perfume brings me back to my football games from alst year.
The sweet yet spicy nostalgic smell of apples and cinnamon always takes me back to christmas,when i was younger.I believed in santa claus and enjoyed the days leading up to when i would walk into the living room and see everything i ever wanted right under the big christmas tree.I remember the smell of the fake tree mixed with the apples and cinnamon candle always getting me into the christmas spirit.The smell I remember and love best is apples and cinnamon.It also gives me a feeling of warmth and caring,because Christmas is a time of being with family and people you love.
The smell of chlorine brings back memories for me. My mamaw and papaw have a timeshare up in Pigeon Forge in Pinecrest and there's an indoor pool that always has too much chlorine in it. When I walk through the glass doors leading to the pool, I am always overwhelmed by the strong smell of chlorine. My cousins would always come in from Florida for a week or two to stay there and we would spend practically the whole time in the pool just hanging out and playing games. Afterwards, we would usually go ride go-carts and get ice cream in Gatlinburg. Now everytime I smell chlorine, I remember all that fun. :)
For me, there are two smells that bring back memories:Dove shampoo and White Diamonds perfume. While my papaw was still living, my mamaw would always wash his hair in Dove shampoo. I remember running my fingers through his buzz-cut hair and smelling that great aroma. Even though it has been awhile, I still remember my papaw when I smell Dove shampoo. The other smell is that of White Diamonds. I always hated the smell, but had to deal with it because that is the perfume she wore. To this day, I can't stand the smell of that perfume, but it makes me think of her.
I have two scents that bring me back places. For one, the smell of taco soup, the hot fire and hot chocolate on cold days brings me back to all the days I would watch Tennessee Vols football. I would get up in a blanket and sit on the couch and watch Tennessee pound on somebody. My most remembered game was in 2003, we were playing Miami @ Miami and they were ranked number 2 in the nation and we were supposed to get beat by twenty-one, but in the end we pulled it out 6-3 in the final quarter. I was even more happy we won, because the year earlier they beat us in Knoxville twenty-six to three and we were predicted to win.
But in the rare event we lose, my day is ruined, and I become depressed till i get over it the next day.
The next scent is when I smell freshly cut grass, hot dogs, pretzels, and dirt. This brings me back to when I was little and my baseball team was in the Semifinals in Puerto Rico. We were losing 11 to 3 in the fourth inning and mounted a comeback and I came through with the game winning hit to send us to the championship.
I just want to clear up the last sentence in my blog. I meant to say that White Diamonds brings back memories of my great-grandmother. I am sorry about the mistake.
It's thanksgiving and everyone is piling in the living room,getting ready for food. I sit down to the table with the mountain of food that is getting ready to be a tiny mound. Every thing is good but my tastebuds explode with amazement every time i taste one of my grandma's deviled eggs.
The lump of delicious yellow goo, inside the pearl white cup, sprinkled with fire red paprika brings me back to these times of great enjoyment.
The taste of homemade cornbread baking in the oven brings back memories of family dinners at my grandmothers. We would all gather around the dinner table and sit and wait for the cornbread to be served. I am not even a huge fan of cornbread, but there is something about my grandmothers cooking that makes me look forward to the moist and crumbly cornbread. When I was little everytime we had dinner at her house all the kids would rush to help with the dishes, but now its the complete opposite. Famiy dinners at my grandmothers house were a huge deal and no one in our family will ever forget the sensational cornbread she bakes.No other cornbread in the world can compare to my grandmothers!
Eating a cool icecream sundae on a hot summer day brings back memories of my aunt's house. After playing outside with my cousins, my aunt will make an immense, delicious sundae pilled high with scrumptious toppings. First, the waffle bowl, crunchy and sugary. Next comes the heaping scoop of chilly vanilla icecream and warm, homemade chocolate syrup dripping down the sides. Then, rainbow colored sprinkles speckle the white icecream like a child's birthday party's confetti. Following the sprinkles is fluffy white whipped cream, airy and sweet. Finally, a bright red Maraschino cherry to top it off. At last, it is time to eat it and my mouth fills with the sundae's sweet sensation. Nothing can compare to a delicous icecream sundae of my aunt's.
The smell of sugar cookies always brings back memories of Christmas to me. Waking up to the fresh, warm scent on Christmas Day always reminds me of "Santa Clause" and all the presents under the tree.
The smells of Christmas dinner takes me back to when the whole family is together at my grandmother's house to exchange gifts and celebrate the holidays as a whole family.
The taste or sight of sprite reminds me of Louis Plumber. He was the trombone section leader my freshman year. He was tall and black with short black hair and loved sprite. There will never be another section leader like Louis. He was strict yet fun loving, and always treated us fairly. Academics were not his forte, but he was a decent trombone player and taught me everything I know about band. I will never forget him and always remember him whenever I see sprite.
The smell of scented erasers always make me think of fifth grade, back when school was cool. My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Cunningham, gave me two scented erasers, and ever since then, they have been my favorite.
The smell and taste of biscuits and gravy takes me back to when I was a young child and my Mamaw would cook breakfast for me. During this time, I was the only grandchild on my mother's side of the family and was spoiled rotten. Anytime I have them now, I am taken back to my young childhood and to my Mamaw's small white house out in the countryside which still stands out to me today as the epitomy of what a Grandparent's house should appear as. As good as they may be, it is just not the same experience of waking up early and making the trek to her house out in the country to play with the neighbor's horses and walk through the woods. Something as simple as biscuits and gravy bring me back to my earliest childhood memories.
Early on in my childhood, I realized that my favorite days were the rainy ones. Cold showers pouring, sharp wet wind blowing through the trees. The feeling of closer and safety inside my home, away from the elements I adored. However my favorite memories came from my mom’s taco soup, the best kind to eat on a cold, rainy afternoon. I can remember laying stretched out on the sofa, covered in mounds of crocheted blankets, anxiously awaiting my mothers soup to finish cooking. The big pot of delicious sustenance simmering and bubbling away on the gas burner. The aroma of spicy beans, corn, and tomatoes drifted into all parts of the house and made my mouth water, pining for just one small spoonful. This memory of sitting under our immense living room window, downing spoon after spoonful of this amazing taco soup., is my absolute favorite rainy day experience.
pFor, me the smell of lasagna takes me back to every Christmas day I can remember. My family being the unconventional bunch we are, have never had ham or anything like that for Christmas dinner. Every year I walk in to my grandmothers house and the aroma of the lasagna hits me like a snowball in the face.To go with it, warm applesuace and hot rolls. Everytime I see or smell even the most poorly -prepared lasagna it takes to all the Christamas's of my life.
The smell of fire or wood burning always reminds me of one cold night in November when I was 6 years old. The power had gone out, which meant we had no heat. So my dad built a fire in the fireplace and we set up a tent in the middle of the living room. I remember falling asleep that night, watching the fire as it slowly died down.
The smell of freshly baked bread brings back memories of my mother baking monkey-bread. It's like a breadloaf of cinnamony goodness. Monkey-bread is quite delicious when it is piping hot.
The sweet aroma of my Mother's blackberries cobbler always brings me back to the day before it is made. Out at the berry farm picking fresh blackberries to put in my Mother's cobbler. After it is made I wait, mouth watering to try it. Finally at the end of the night after dinner I get to chow down. The cobbler gone I go to bed satisfied for the rest of the night.
The smell of fresh baked cookies is what takes me back to the good ol' days. These were the days where my mom and I constructed home-made chocolate chip cookies. I got to make the batter and make the little balls of chocolate chip goodness, while my mom put them in the oven. All I had to do was wait for ten minutes then the fun really began, evryone would grab a handful of cookies and then each person would eat their's in a different way. Some dunking the cookies where others just grabbed some milk and chowed down. When all the cookies had been devoured everyone went to bed all warm and happy.
As I sit and reminice on how such distinct tastes, smells, sights, and noises take me through memory lane, it's brutal for me to think of just one. However once i truely dug down deep, the one smell that seriously takes me to one particular moment would have to be the sweet and sometimes pungent smell of flowers. Yes, there are so many different types of these beauties, however my mamaw has always took meticulous care of her fairytale-like garden. She lives in the backwoods of kentucky and lives down a curvy one-way road on the side of a mountain. Once you start up the mountain, the aroma of her flowers intoxicates the nostrals and leaves them begging for more. She grows so many different types that instead of each individual flower, they become one. Among the dove white daisies, the gigantic sunflowers, the red, red roses, and many others, I could never imagine trying to choose a favorite. Therfore my favorite would have to be the mixture of them all which i am spoiled to because of the many hours of running and losing touch with reality so I may be in my own fairytale. Anytime the fragrance of any blossom decides to tempt my nose, I am instantly snapped out of actuality and into my own enchanted memory.
When I was younger, the smell of only one scent could be described as that of my grandparents' house. The smell of fresh air. Not the kind you get from an air purifier. The real thing. The kind that makes you appreciate the trees, the flowers, and even the leaf litter that blankets the earth in the fall. My father's parents lived in a tiny house surrounded by a forest filled with life, and the life filled the air, and the air filled my lungs, and I knew that somehow everything was connected. And the connection was good.
The sound of music is what brings back strong vivd memories of my childhood. It brings me back to when i would sit on my grandfather's porch and listen to him play his violin or other instrument that he knew how to play. I can imagine myself sitting on his porch hearing the sweet and crisp or long and legato sound of the notes. It reminds me of why i chose to play music in band.
Without a doubt the smell that brings back the most memories for me is Coty Airspun face powder. The shade is Rachel 1. Why does the shade matter? Because it is the one that my great-grandmother wore. Go ahead and call me crazy but I keep a box of it in my dresser to this day. To simply open it and breathe deeply takes me right back to my childhood when Mayme was around to sing me to sleep or give me a hug. Everyone should be so lucky to feel so loved.
The smell that brings back the most memories would have to be the smell of pinnaples and cinnamon. Mix these two together and you get a match made in heaven. Every holiday my gradmother makes it for me. To some it may sound disgusting but i love it. The smell brings back memories of my family and I sitting in the living room, unwrapping presents around the fireplace.
The sound of an audience clapping always brings memories of one of my favrite activities which is playing with the praise band with my church every wendsday. There is nothing better then playing guitar in a band of your best friends. It is always the highlight of my week and the sound of applause always brings me back to the stage.
The smell of fresh baked peanut butter cookies always sends me back to my Nana's house. The cookies just melted in my mouth. I remember that by the time she had taken the cookies out of the oven, I was taking one off of the oven pan. They are without a doubt the best peanut butter cookies I have ever tasted. I used to spend every Sunday evening and night with her. We would always cook together and no matter what we were making whether it was peanut butter cookies or cornbread we always had a great time enjoying each other's company.
The smell of gunpowder always takes me back to my first deer hunt when I was 10 years old. We were in the woods of southwest Virginia on a ridge just below the Cumberland Gap National Park. I was in a blind with my dad and the smell of wet dirt and musty leaves mixed with the smell of the coffee in his thermos. But it was after we had seen a deer and my dad had shot that I smelled the bitter-sweet smoke from his muzzleloader. These days, before every deer season, I sight-in my muzzleloader and with each shot, and each plume of smoke, I'm reminded of that winter day on that ridge.
When bright bananas are in my presence it reminds me of my Mammaw's banana pudding. The creamy pudding and the soft bananas would settle on my taste buds in delight. The crunchy wafers mixed with the smooth cream is a taste I will remember forever. Even though she has passed and the recipe is on my dresser nobody can top her pudding.
The smell of fresh popcorn reminds me of my grandparents. Every night that i would go to my grandma's house she would make popcorn, soaked in butter and with popcorn salt. I would sit beside her in her chair and we would turn on the most recent movies. We would stay up way too late and I never failed to fall asleep beside her, until my grandpa would somehow wake me up and make me go to bed. Popcorn may not be the healtiest midnight snack but who cares? Even to this day we make popcorn, they even curve their diet so we can keep tradition. Sitting with my grandparents, eating popcorn, watching movies, the news, and Jay Leno brings back memories and also creates new ones. Only the cool kids hang out with their grandparents!
Okay,I have to many memories to decide from. But, I think my favorites are Thanksgiving and Christmas at my Mammaw and Pappaw's house. The smell of biscuts and when we would welcome are family mambers. Also, when ever I here the annoucers at football games say over the pa system "Now presentingthe Powell High School Marching Panther Band" reminds me of my very first compition in Seymore, Tennessee.Right before we left I was running to Weigles and tripped and busted my lip, but when we got on that feild we played our hearts out and it payed off. At then I finnaly knew what we had been working so hard for sence July. I remember I was sitting in the stands, arms locked with Juile and some of myother friends. I remember putting my hands on one of my other friends backs andsaying to myself, "Come on call Powell Band, come on." When they sad "Powell High School Marching Panther Band" as grandchampions we all freaked out and jumped the fence to get to the feild as fast as we could. We even did the hokey-pokey! Those are some of my favorite memories ever!
When I was a little girl, my grandma always took care of me while my parents were at work. My favorite snack that she would make for me was stawberries and confectioners sugar. Every time I smell strawberries, I think of being over at my grandma's house and eating them with her. I still remember sitting on her couch and laughing with her while we ate the strawberries. We share fond memories of those days. Even though I've grown up, we still get together to eat strawberries and confectioners sugar.
The smell of fresh dropped dumplings in a pool of freshley sliced chicken always takes me to thanksgiving eve. Spending the night with my mamaw the night before and standing in the kitchen until the wee hours of the morning dropping dumplings in the pot one by one always gives my heart a warm smile. As I lay in the bed I can smell the chicken and dumplings simmering which carries the smell all through the house and makes me want to eat them right then. I always love thanksgiving and this special tradition with my mamaw and i hope it continues for years to come.
For me, it's the smell of fresh Kris Kringles coming out of the oven, hot with steam at Christmas time. A German recipe that has been in the family for many years, it’s by far our favorite Christmas-time treat. Every year, when the air is getting cold my family gets together, just the five of us, to make these delicious treats. First, mom makes the dough and adds the special anise seasoning. We each take turns cutting out our favorite shapes, Christmas trees, stars, santas, stockings and snowmen. Then we put them in the oven and just wait. The smell of fresh cookies starts lingering in our noses and we count down the minutes until they are out. Once out, we let them cool (maybe sneaking one or two gooey ones when mom isn't looking) and then ice them with sweet powdered suger frosting. Nothing goes better with homemade cookies than homemade icing. We spend hours at our kitchen table icing and decorating our treats with red and green sprinkles. Finally, when all is complete and we are satisfied, we take our annual first bites and enjoy our time together.
As the overbearing, yet soothing smell of chimney smoke rushes into my nostrils, I am taken aback by the memories of early childhood where I am awaiting my favorite time of year. A sensational thrill is sent through my body, as I am now certain that the heat of summer has disappeared and winter is creeping in. Many young children are dreading the captivity of winter, arguing that summer dominates, because there is no school. Not me. As the crisp, clean air sweeps past me, I feel refreshed. This still holds true today, as I anxiously await that first wiff of chimney smoke.
The deafening sound of Chinese firecrackers brings me back to my days of lion dancing. The smell left over from the firecrackers polluted the entire performance area. Even though, it was a once a year event for Chinese New Year, I'm positive I'll never forget it. I remember all those winter days that were spent outside, all those practices built up for a few shows that were absolutely priceless. The noise of the beating drums and clapping hands sent a colossal rush of adrenaline made it worth while. In a way, it felt like I connected more with my culture with those lion dances.
The smell of fresh cut grass reminds me of the summers I've spent with my dad. It was the most memorable because of my dad's immense yard. It's freshly cut aroma is quite overwhelming, but pleasurable. Pleasurable like walking barefoot through the yard and playing with the cat in the soft grass.
When the sweet taste of lemonade touches my lips, I am swept back to my memories of when my family was going through hard times. Up until my fourth grade year, lemonade was a treat. My brothers and I would savor each drop like precious gold. Slowly the drink began to disappear. It wouldn't be another three months or so until the sweet, precious, golden drink was slikly sliding down our throats.
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