Food.

Yesterday, I stood on the back deck of my parents house and ate watermelon. I was transported back to the days of my childhood when all the kids would line up along the banister and try to see who could spit watermelon seeds the farthest, extra points if you managed to hit the trunk of the tall sugar maple, or the giant rock beyond the azalea bushes. The taste and texture of the cool, deliciously summery fruit sent me to a different time all together.

I wonder how food can do that. Tastes and smells seem to inextricably link themselves to memories, moments in time that will forever be a part of us. It's been years and years since my grandmother passed away, but I can still fry up some potatoes like she did, or make her famous pot roast gravy and be transported to her kitchen the moment I close my eyes. I can hear the television blasting in the background, turned up so my grandfather can hear, and recognize the rich sound of my grandmother's laugh as she cooked.

When I kneel in my own garden to work, the breeze will catch and bring the smell of ripening tomatoes close, and then I'm ten years old, brier scratched, and mosquito bitten, crouched down between the tall rows of green beans in my father's garden. The big silver bowl is slow to fill. I can't seem to stop eating the beans straight off the vine, warm and tender from the late summer sunshine, long enough to gather a respectable harvest.

I think it's because food nourishes and enriches our lives, and in a small way, contributes to the makeup of who and what we are. It identifies culture and heritage, and keeps those elements alive generation after generation.

When families, long separated, gather together at the holidays, what else could grace the table but an elaborate spread of cherished, memorable, feast worthy fare. And then, a group of neighbors, veritable strangers in every way but location, gather together in the culdesac, with lawn chairs and folding tables brim full with the hamburgers and hot dogs, potato chips and Jello salad that will pave the way to new and lasting friendships.

Yes, food feeds and sustains, a necessary part of living. But it also inspires, uplifts, links and unifies.

This afternoon, I think I'll make some chewy chocolate cookies with my kids. Just like my Mother used to make.

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