Is It the Memories?

Looking at the many recollections of my past, were some things actually better back then or are they just the wistfulness of lingering memories that I‘ve dredged up from the storage areas of my mind. Were the loaves of Grandma Miner’s hot and fresh bread coming out from her coal fired oven better than any recipes I’ve tried? Was the chicken salad that she made from boiled chicken, its broth, chopped dill pickle, and salt and pepper more flavorful than anything I’ve tried to remake. The salads she made and served in a green, upside down fez looking bowl were they fresher than what I prepare. The fresh churned butter was so flavorful that my grandfather slathered it onto his bread an eighth of an inch thick.

Red ripe tomatoes pulled from my grandparent’s garden and eaten after I wiped it off with my shirt makes me want to go back to that time. I recall the sharp sun-warmed flavor of the crimson orb as the juice would run down my chin. If I wasn’t snitching a fat tomato, I would stroll to the other end of the garden to snap off a stalk of rhubarb. The memory of its sharp flavor still makes my mouth water, thinking of the taste as I gnawed that raw tangy stalk. Occasionally, I could wrangle a salt shaker from the house and enhance the flavors of both.

Lemonade on a hot summer day seemed to slide across the taste buds after several hours of work or play. A huge chunk of ice swam among the bruised and squeezed lemon slices and the heavily sweetened juice and chilled water mixture that filled a large crock.

Today cantaloupes and watermelons seem to have lost their sweetness and flavor, often shipped to market before they are ripe. The same thing happens with peaches. Although they’ve gotten larger, many have lost that distinctive sweet flavor and juiciness.

I made “poodlies” yesterday. It is the dish my mom would often make for lunch. Cooked macaroni, oleo, tomato juice, and plenty of salt, steaming; hot and flavorful, the concoction filled our bowls. As I ate my attempt the expectation fell short.

Are the memories misrepresenting my past and affecting the present? Or have my taste buds aged and lost the ability to discern those remembered flavors?