The Taste of Nostalgia: How Food Holds Our Memories
A story of friendship, grief, and the flavors that bring those memories flooding back...
Have you ever had a recipe so nostalgic it brought a memory to life so vividly, it felt like no time had passed?
That’s what happened to me when I made this creamy cantaloupe rose sorbet.
It’s not the most expectedly nostalgic dessert —it’s fragrant, Persian-inspired, floral, and subtle.
🍈🌹🍨
But the second I tasted it, I was instantly brought back to a moment in high school. Sitting with my friend in her car after school, laughing hysterically as we dug plastic spoons into a pint of Persian rose ice cream we’d grab from a local grocery store.
I can still hear her laugh and see her smile in my minds eye.
She passed away a few years ago. Way way too young. It was shocking & devastating.
But that bite of sorbet brought those memories back so vividly it instantly brought tears to my eyes.
We talk about comfort food all the time, but I think there’s something even more powerful: memory food.
Food that keeps us tethered to moments we didn’t realize were still sitting quietly in us, waiting.
It’s actually a scientific phenomenon. It’s called the Proustian memory effect—named after the writer Marcel Proust, who famously described how the scent and taste of a madeleine cake triggered an entire childhood to flood back.
Smell and taste are directly connected to the limbic system in our brain, which stores emotion and memory. How cool is that!
That’s why a bite of sorbet —or a song—can seemingly undo you in a snap!
Yesterday, one of “our songs” came on.
Music was a big part of our friendship. From driving & singing (loudly) to dancing with no inhibitions in our bedrooms.
I immediately started crying.
Then another one of our songs came on.
It felt like she was DJing from above, just to say, “I’m okay.”
Her passing is one of those losses that doesn’t make sense.
And I’ve felt that way about other friends, too. The kind of people who lit up rooms. Who showed up for others. They were gone too soon…
Then I realized I had to remind myself…
We don’t have to quantify someone’s life by how long they were here.
The quality of their life and who they were is so much more than time on a clock.
It’s a spiritual mystery we can’t quite understand but have a knowingness deep down on how amazing someone’s spirit was, regardless of their time on earth.
It’s okay to cry.
It just means the love is still there.
And if you’ve ever had a song make you cry, or a scent stop you in your tracks, or a bite of something bring someone back —you know exactly what I mean.
And that’s what I felt when I took that first spoonful of this cantaloupe rose sorbet.
Grief and joy all rolled into one, the sound of her laugh, and this overwhelming wave of love that still lives inside me.
That’s the real magic of food and sharing it.It’s a way we connect with people
If you want to try the recipe yourself, I shared it here on my blog:
👉🏼 Cantaloupe Rose Sorbet (Vegan)
It’s simple—just a few ingredients—and somehow feels soft and healing at the same time. It’s perfect for Summer ❤️❤️❤️
Thanks for letting me share this memory & story with you!
If you’ve ever experienced this kind of nostalgia through food, I’d love to hear about it. Please feel free to leave a comment!
Sending love to all of you—especially if you’re missing someone too.
With love, Justine
That was a beautiful story.. There is an Italian almond based syrup called Orzata. It always makes me remember my grandmother. I’ve only ever met her twice in my life, the last time when I was 10 years old. She is the only grandparent I’ve ever met. All my other grandparents had passed before I was even born. Anyway, she was an incredibly sweet and giving white haired old lady. Whenever I went to her place to visit she always had a bottle of diluted Orzata in the fridge. It tasted so sweet and delicious. Anyway, it always makes me think of her every time I even think about Orzata.