A Taste of Memory

Friday, October 31, 2025

I was grocery shopping the other day when a small glass jar caught my eye — gefilte fish. Just seeing it pulled me straight back into another time.

Years ago, when I lived in Kansas City, my eldest sister and her extended family hosted the big Jewish holiday meals. I joined them for Passover and Rosh Hashanah, learning about each celebration through its foods — matzos, sweet wine, and always, gefilte fish.

Those old gatherings were full of rhythm and ritual — the kinds that linger long after dessert. Although I hadn’t consciously thought about them in years, standing in that grocery aisle, staring at that jar, I felt old warmth suddenly stirring.

When I got home, I couldn’t wait. I opened the jar, spooned out a piece, bit into gelfilte fish — and in an instant, its taste carried me back to those Kansas City meals: tables set for family gatherings, the scents of brisket and simmering broth, the sounds of ritual stories retold.

This tasting struck me as extra-funny because I started wondering if I could make gefilte fish fit into my current diet, which doesn’t exactly follow that model. These days, I lean heavily toward Asian-inspired foods — ramen noodles, stir-fried vegetables, kimchee, tofu, and special sauces like miso and chili oils.

This isn’t the first time I’ve realized how deeply food memories root themselves. Experience has taught me that particular tastes may simply rest — until much later, when a single flavor recalls them and invites their return. Now again, one bite brings the past forward, rekindling memories of gatherings and essential connections that helped shape my life.

A little taste of something so humble — a small piece of fish — reunites my present self with the young person I was, and rekindles fondness for those who helped me grow into who I’ve become.

— Diana