Recently, my husband and I ate dinner at the Currywurst food truck in San Diego. David ordered the Philly Cheesesteak Grilled Cheese sandwich. As we waited in front of the window, I could hear the sound of the metal spatula on the flat metal griddle chopping the meat into tiny, delicious bits. I could hear the sizzling of the oils and seasonings that had spent their days lathering that griddle with their secret wares…The tink-tink of metal on metal, backed by the smooth vocals of delicately hissing oils, bubbling and devilishly dancing, captured some part of brain stuck in a long line at Pat’s waiting to order a “wiz-wit” on a cold day. I knew the sandwich would be divine.
Do you associate certain sounds memories, or any sounds for that matter, with flavor? Maybe something from childhood? A unique meal overseas?
Well, I suppose it’s silly to reply to my own thread, but I has another “food sound” experience last night.
Our family had a giant wing-ding potluck get together today (it was the Mexican side, TONS of people). I volunteered to make flour tortillas from scratch, the way my grandmother taught me. As I rolled out each tortilla by hand, I was struck by the sound of the wooden rolling pin on the counter…each little “clack-clack-clack” smoothing the dough and shaping the tortilla into the proper round shape, which made me think back to the day Grandma showed me how to make them. “They have to be round mijita, they cannot look like maps.” The sound of the rolling pin became the indicator of the enjoyment of a great feast.