Food + Memory
A spring celebration
Hi friends,
In a break from our regularly scheduled programming (our next batch of recipes drops on Wednesday!), we wanted to share a bit about a gathering we co-hosted in New York last week with
and the Substack gang (hi !) inspired by the theme of food and memory.For anyone who works with, around, or in service of food, memory is often the invisible engine—rarely are we given the chance to shine a light on the sense-memories from childhood that have so informed our professional lives. Memory and food entwine in mysterious ways, and yet food is often the most vivid piece of an otherwise fragmented recollection. But what is it about food? Why is it so often the heart of the memory? Well, food is unique in that it activates all of the senses. We can see it being prepared: lengths of dough, for instance, woven under and over each other to make the lattice on a pie, or whisked egg whites transformed into snowy peaks. We can hear it: the sound of an onion bhaji hissing in hot oil, the staccato of a pestle smashing cloves of garlic in a marble mortar, or the whiz of a blender. We can feel it: a hot flatbread off a grandmother’s griddle, a spoonful of whipped cream, at once thick and light. We can smell it (with aroma often lingering longer in our minds than a flavor does on our tongues): chopped summer basil or french fries or onions sizzling in butter. And, of course, we can taste it, which is where the palate comes into play. Most foods are designed to be delicious (that’s the point, isn’t it?), but what will be delicious to you—or to your children—is what sets you apart. We chose the theme of Food + Memory for our dinner because the Green Spoon has encouraged us to think constantly about how the things we’re feeding our kids right now will forever be a part of their foundational sense memories. No pressure!
So, with the beginnings of spring produce in hand (favas! peas! borlotti beans! artichokes! agretti!) and hungering for an excuse to bring together a stellar group of women in food, art and the Substack universe, we jumped into the kitchen with our pal
and asked everyone to tell us their version of Proust’s madeleine. With folks like , , , , , , , Hannah Goldfield, Helen Rosner and Natasha Pickowicz—and the below menu—it was truly a night to savor.See you Wednesday,
Greta + Fanny
"I'm sure this could be a bit more elegant, but the truth is that my most evocative food memory from childhood is mint chip ice cream from Thrifty drugstore in the Valley in 1990s LA. A similar scoop will send me back—slurping my way through the air conditioned aisles and out onto the molten-hot asphalt of the parking lot." — Greta Caruso
"The smell of a piece of garlic-rubbed toast with olive oil transports me instantly to my childhood dinner table, my father standing at the toaster oven briskly rubbing edge-of-burnt toast with a fresh clove of garlic. Afterward he would douse the slices liberally with green olive oil and stack them on a plate. The oil would travel through the open lace of the crumb and pool, waiting to be sopped up with more bread or tilted into the salad bowl." —Fanny Singer
"New Delhi, 1993. Whenever my parents went out for dinner my babysitter would bring tiffins of warm rotis, rice and dhal for her dinner. I'd sneak out of bed and sit with her in the kitchen. She'd let me snap open the stainless boxes and show me how to use a chappati as a spoon." —Clare de Boer
Would LOVE a recipe for the green lasagna 💚💚💚👀👀