Why Do Foods and Scents Make Us Happy?

Growing up, my Dad worked for decades in Midtown Manhattan and his stress would dissolve as he sauteed garlic in olive oil, stirring with a wooden spoon in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. This is what makes my father truly happy: cooking good food for people he loves.

We had a lot of rules growing up: no bare feet outside (ooops), clean up after yourself, do your homework, eat dinner together. The greatest insult would be to arrive late for Dad’s dinner, which he cooked by dutifully following every step from Marcella Hazan, the doyenne of Italian cooking.

The aroma of garlic in oil is transformative. I could have a really cruddy day, but feel like a new person after wiping down the counters, tidying up the kitchen and starting dinner with garlic and oil. Yesterday, it was diced ginger and garlic in peanut oil. I improvised a meal by adding carrots, green onions, green peppers, curry powder and other spices as well as ground venison. In another pot, I boiled water and tossed in quick cook noodles and bean sprouts. I strained out the noodles and sprouts and tossed them into the meat and veggies mix. What made this wonderful? The crunch, the meat and the aroma of the spices. There was more than one curry powder, by the way.

If I don’t know what to cook or think, I’ll just open the pantry and start sampling smells from spice bottles. Maybe it’s the memories that are conjured up or completely new inspiration. If you really need a lift, take a whiff from the bottle of vanilla extract. The scent makes me think of my mother, who likes to put vanilla in pancakes, brownies and her smiles. Mom really likes baking cookies and brownies. The smile is indelibly impressed and I feel it open across my face when I pull goodies out of the oven. I just made banana-pineapple muffins and the scent is so comforting.

My grandmother passed away two years ago this Thanksgiving, and I reflect on her memory often. I can still remember the scents in her home for Sunday dinners. The artichokes and olives on a dish before dinner. The tomato gravy that had cooked on low for hours. The way the fresh ravioli smelled when we opened the box. The almond cookies lent another scent to the festivities. I think of all those things when I make my venison meatballs by borrowing from her general recipe. For her meatballs, use 1 egg per pound of meat, Italian breadcrumbs (“but not too much”) and freshly chopped parsley. For venison, add another egg to better bind the lean meat.

Every time I drop tomatoes in saucepan with garlic and olive oil, the colors and aroma bring me home, back to Grandma’s and back to my parents’ old house. Nowadays, most likely, I’m stirring with a wooden spoon in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

Buon appetito!

The Sage Leopard