OLFACTORY OR NELLA CUCCINA

Definition of olfactory: “Of or relating to the sense of smell olfactory receptors. -Merriam Webster 

They sure know their stuff.

Years ago while working as a young graphic designer, I used to smoke and at one point lit a cigarette. I was going over some designs I was considering with my boss, Jack Stern. As I lit the cigarette Jack remarked that the smell triggered a memory he had.

I know you have had the smell trigger experience also.

I can remember walking into a Federal building where I once had to attend a meeting, an old building that sat somewhere under the el in Brooklyn. As I entered I got a whiff of the steam heat that was generating from the generators, and it took my back immediately to my childhood and the Catholic School I attended, Our Lady of Lourdes. It was a smell that I hated because it meant the hard discipline of the nuns and brothers that tormented me during the day. (Maybe it was me tormenting them, I’ll have to get back to you on that.)

When I worked for a major direct marketing firm in Port Washington, every morning, but especially Monday morning, after a weekend of being at ease, I would open the door to the building, flip my passkey and open the inner door and a certain smell emanated, probably from either the rugs or walls. It told me that I had to change my mood, up my guard and take on another persona. When this happened my wing-tipped shoes started to feel stiff, my wool suit felt heavy and itchy, and my tie felt very tight around my neck, all this from one smell.

Then a few days ago I went to the supermarket to look for some ‘green gold’ basil, Italian basil. I deliberately took a whiff of it and I was transported all the way back to Grandma Francesca’s Cucina. Suddenly I could see the huge pasta pot, smoking, the oven hot and sending forth an aroma to die to know what she was cooking, it smelled so good. I can still see \and hear the flip-flop of her slippers as she clopped around her kitchen like a middle linebacker checking all the positions of the offense. Suddenly, she would pivot and head for grandpa’s garden and pick some basil and toss it, roots and all on top her table where I would put my nose in it to smell its wonderfulness. This happens every time I smell the herb, and along with Italian parsley, I conjure up a dish of Lasagna!

There is a blessing in being Italian, the smells of their cooking will dictate that you are hungry and that something good is coming, so you better eat!

I can remember Mom and the Sunday gravy being started. As I lay in my bed, mom was busy starting the sauce, frying meatballs at 6 A.M. is a great starter to a day!