Tell us about a sensation — a taste, a smell, a piece of music — that transports you back to childhood.
There is an odor and taste that doesn’t exist anymore. It was from a time before air fresheners and scented candles. It was a time when natural aromas graced homes. It was a time when things weren’t scented, synthesized, and packaged for freshness.
The odors I will never experience again come from a farm in northwest Ohio. It was were the odor of homemade apple pie stayed for days and home cooking odors were permanent. Midwesterners never prepared food with a lot of spices so the smells were pure food.
At times the smell of percolated coffee from a percolator purchased before the depression dominated, but soon settled into its rightful position as supporting cast member with the others.
Nothing tastes, smells, or says country better than oven roasted beef covered with potatoes, onions, and carrots along corn on the cob boiling on the stove’s top.
Cakes, pies, and cookies when made from scratch have an odor like no other. It is not only the baking process, but also the lingering raw odors associated with the preparation.
Somewhere in the background of the symphony of smells is that of well water accompanied with the whine from the motor to the pump echoing from the outside. I can hear the painful pull of the spring to the screen door as it opens and slams.
There is another odor, perhaps not one so pleasant. It is the odor of men working, grunting, and sweating. It’s not at a spa or fitness club where the air is circulated and kept fresh. It’s from work that leaves you exhausted and satisfied. It’s the odor of physically doing something that accomplishes something.
No, I’ll never smell, taste, or hear those things again. They are long forgotten as if they never where. We rather listen to hard rock than hard work. Our world has become too sanitary and clean to the point where everything smells plastic and artificial.
Trackbacks & Pingbacks
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