Some girls say they have a scent or a fragrance that will take them back to a specific time.
I have tastes and flavours.
Childhood will always be fast food. McDonald’s and KFC and Long John Silver’s. The stall in Tanglin Halt that sold fish and chips. The rare and highly-anticipated trips to Swensen’s and Pizza Hut with family or friends.
The kindest thing someone has said about this is “Most people will grow up missing the food their parents made. You’ll always have the taste of childhood. And because it’s McDonald’s, it’s always gonna be consistently the same.” (If you’re reading this, dude, I seriously hope you make a million in sales. Born salesperson, and life coach, you. 🙂 )
There was a second era that was defined, near the end, by strawberries and cream, after a cake he got me for my birthday. Strawberries are the flavour of innocence – like a Chupa Chups lollipop – a time when I believed that love would be and beat everything. And that if I just loved enough, it would be enough, and things would be okay.
But strawberries can be sour, dipped in sugar syrup, and the flavour that always seems the same in other food isn’t really strawberries, but brilliant Japanese chemical engineering. Intelligent, but a lie. And fluffy light cream can’t be used to build dreams.
It’s taken me a while to fall in love with the translucent rose quartz of a candy ball on a stick again.
I haven’t had the same cake happily since, but I’ll get there.
The third era is a little more complex. He was chocolate and coffee, and wine and (for the rhyme) whiskey, because it was when I started drinking. He was hot flavoured tea and warmed up muffins. He was Asian food that had so much umami, I figured this is why Asians didn’t really latch on to cheese.
That era has ended so, for now, chocolate seems darker and not as sweet. Bitter black coffee brings my mind to his lips. And savoury wine holds no respite.
I’ve learned recently that while rosés are beautiful in their blush of pink, most of them aren’t sweet. And since the first bottle that he bought, I don’t think I’ve found a sweeter wine.
So while my food seems cold and I start turning towards cheese, I’ll slowly unravel, untangle the flavours.
But like butter in croissant, folded layer after layer, you can’t really, fully, take out the flavour.
I’ll do my best to take back the tastes. I’ll go back to places and create new memories. I’ll treat myself. Find joy and laughter again.
Until the day
coffee
on my lips
makes me smile.
