My Grandmother made pickles every year.
Now, I did not like her pickles, for that matter, I did not like any pickles except those on McDonald’s hamburgers. So glad our taste buds change over time!
My dislike for them is not what comes to mind, though. What comes to mind was the comfort and the wonderful smell of the fruit cellar where her hard work was stored.
My Grandparents had a wonderful basement. On the right side were two twin beds and dressers and shelves holding books, where my uncles had slept and spent their time. Windows up high opening up to the ground outside – At that young age, it reminded my The Wind in the Willows. On the left was a partial wall and huge safe, dividing the room from a work area for my Grandpa. A closet was on that side that stored old fur coats – not the real expensive ones, money was not a commodity. Maybe they were hand me downs…
But the fruit room, it was on the back wall. As you opened the door, the floor dipped down a few inches and you entered, what I thought was a room, but was probably only a closet. It was lined with shelves where scrap paper for coloring was stored. Miscellaneous items were there, I honestly can’t remember what all else was on the shelves, but one area was covered with jars of pickles.
Some pickle jars had blue liquid, some not. All contained what I was not going to eat. But all were fun to look at. Those cucumber slices soaking in various states of pickling.
The smell though. I loved the scent of that level of the house. Somehow all that was kept there brought its own scent in and the combination would surely have been labeled “comfort.”
A decade or so ago, my grandparents moved from that house. A house they lived in for 40 years. My mom received a clock that did not go with my grandparents in their move. As I walked in my parent’s house the first time after the package arrived, past that clock, I was transported back to playing in my grandparent’s basement and was thankful that memory held on to that great feeling that could be sparked by a simple scent.
Thanks Mary for asking for us to share childhood food memories (Go check out her site, great recipes!), even though it might not have actually been the enjoyment of the food itself. It gave me a chance to travel down memory lane with Gayle and with You!
Smiles!
Now, I did not like her pickles, for that matter, I did not like any pickles except those on McDonald’s hamburgers. So glad our taste buds change over time!
My dislike for them is not what comes to mind, though. What comes to mind was the comfort and the wonderful smell of the fruit cellar where her hard work was stored.
My Grandparents had a wonderful basement. On the right side were two twin beds and dressers and shelves holding books, where my uncles had slept and spent their time. Windows up high opening up to the ground outside – At that young age, it reminded my The Wind in the Willows. On the left was a partial wall and huge safe, dividing the room from a work area for my Grandpa. A closet was on that side that stored old fur coats – not the real expensive ones, money was not a commodity. Maybe they were hand me downs…
But the fruit room, it was on the back wall. As you opened the door, the floor dipped down a few inches and you entered, what I thought was a room, but was probably only a closet. It was lined with shelves where scrap paper for coloring was stored. Miscellaneous items were there, I honestly can’t remember what all else was on the shelves, but one area was covered with jars of pickles.
Some pickle jars had blue liquid, some not. All contained what I was not going to eat. But all were fun to look at. Those cucumber slices soaking in various states of pickling.
The smell though. I loved the scent of that level of the house. Somehow all that was kept there brought its own scent in and the combination would surely have been labeled “comfort.”
A decade or so ago, my grandparents moved from that house. A house they lived in for 40 years. My mom received a clock that did not go with my grandparents in their move. As I walked in my parent’s house the first time after the package arrived, past that clock, I was transported back to playing in my grandparent’s basement and was thankful that memory held on to that great feeling that could be sparked by a simple scent.
Thanks Mary for asking for us to share childhood food memories (Go check out her site, great recipes!), even though it might not have actually been the enjoyment of the food itself. It gave me a chance to travel down memory lane with Gayle and with You!
Smiles!
Gayle is the host at Planet M Files Memory Monday (another great spot to visit - check out her photography)
9 comments:
Thank you for sharing this. I felt as if I was there with you, in the memory and feeling the comfort smells and sounds. Beautiful share. (My Grandmother still makes pickles. And I still don't like eating them. Lol)
What a great story:-)
Well done!
Oh, I loved this!! What a beautiful memory - so nostalgic!!
aww that was lovely. just makes me think of how the smell of cinnamon toast reminds me of my own grandmother. fortunately, i love eating it!
What a lovely story Lailani! Thanks so much for the plug and for sharing such a fantastic memory!
What great memories! I think it is so cool how a scent can bring back memories like like that.
What fun memories! You did such a great job of describing them that I can almost smell it myself! Do you like pickles now? Do you make them, too?
I love the detail in your story. I remember my Grandmother making these gigantic biscuits that she called Cat Head biscuits. Huge. And so delicious.
Post a Comment