Recently my neighbor had to have one of her cats put to
sleep. It just so happened that I made chocolate chip cookies that day. Knowing
how much she always enjoys my homemade goodies, and thinking that a little chocolate
wouldn’t go amiss after a rough day, I decided to give her some.
She was very grateful, and the next morning she even told
me, “Those cookies were a lifesaver.”
Her level of appreciation surprised me. Certainly they
weren’t a literal lifesaver, but emotionally they must have helped even more
than I had expected.
Then I remembered a passage from Mary Pipher’s Seeking Peace: “[A]
worldwide cure [for a variety of ailments] seems to be the tastes and smells of
familiar foods, especially those that remind us of our childhoods and family….
When I tasted [them], I tasted something deeper than foods; I tasted home. I
tasted time.” (p. 165)
In that context, the comment made more sense. If my neighbor
is anything like me, one of my favorite childhood smells is a kitchen perfumed
by the aroma of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. The scent alone is
comforting, conjuring up images and feelings of earlier times, of innocence and
simple happiness. Eating them only intensifies those connections, especially
since the idea of warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies is one that seems
ingrained in our society as an association with home and familiarity.
The fact that the cookies were made from scratch probably
also helped. Store-bought, packaged cookies wouldn’t be as fresh, and even ones
from a bakery aren’t quite the same. Knowing the person who made them, and that
the baker put care and attention and intention into them, seems to enhance the
flavor and overall experience (see my post Feeding with Love – Vitamin L).
It’s one of the reasons I so enjoy baking. The process
brings up memories and good feelings, as well as the anticipation of sharing the
results with others and seeing their reaction as they, too, experience the
connection and timelessness that comes with these familiar foods. And it makes
me even gladder that my cookie making coincided with my neighbor’s sad day, and
that it offered at least a little comfort.