Quotes About Nostalgia

Dejar la tierra. La tierra de uno. Los árboles y avenidas. El olor del cardamomo y los keftes de espinada. Los sonidos de la infancia que todavía se alojan debajo de la cama y en algunas esquinas; los rincones consentidos de casa. La alberca en la que aprendí a nadar. La reja que imaginó mi primer beso. Las calles de mi barrio, tan bien trazadas.

[Photos are] our memory-keepers and our histories, the last thing we would grab [in a crisis], and the first thing you'd go back to look for.

No home-cooked food, no matter how delicious, can match the power of bringing people together in misty-eyed recollection of industrially produced food.

Anything can start to taste good if you have enough positive memories of being fed it by a parent.

The existence of birthday cake ice cream suggests that we can no longer distinguish celebration foods from everyday ones. We are also not too sure whether we are children or adults.

Part of the magic of childhood for most of us, looking back, was the sensation of freedom in your own body - the feeling that these legs were made for skipping.

Memory is the single most powerful driving force in how we learn to eat; it shapes all our yearnings.

When we talk of memory of food, we generally assume that nostalgia is a phenomenon that occurs late in life - like Proust being transported to his youth by a madeleine dipped in lime-blossom tea. But food memory is there from the start. Even babies have nostalgia!

What you taste as a child is still there in your adult brain, even if you haven't thought of it for years.

Every bite is a memory and the most powerful memories are the first ones.

The childhood foods that we ache for are very specific to the place and the time where we grew up.

Childhood food memories, like family jokes, are often untranslatable to outsiders.

When the flavour of white bread and processed meat are linked in your memory with the warmth and authority of a parent and the camaraderie of siblings, it can feel like a betrayal to stop eating them.

One of the functions of traditional cuisines is to reinforce these shared childhood food memories.

To eat these foods again in the new country was a way of holding on to the grandmothers and mothers who had first cooked with them. Often, however, the remembering through food is bittersweet, because even when you have tracked down every last herb and spice, the missing ingredient is the cook. You find you don't want pasta 'just like Mama used to make'; you actually want Mama herself.

Though it was composed of shortening, corn syrup, colourings and other unwholesome ingredients, with a shelf-life so long it became the punchline of many jokes, for many the Twinkie was the taste of childhood. It was Proust's madeleine for the junk-food generation.

Candy bar nostalgia puts us all on the same page.

The flavour of sweet milk is perhaps the most firmly imprinted of all food memories in Western culture.

Have you noticed that when someone wants to express that something tastes extra specially wonderful, they will often invoke childhood?

Often, however, the remembering through food is bittersweet, because even when you have tracked down every last herb and spice, the missing ingredient is the cook. You find you don't want pasta "just like mama used to make"; you actually want mama herself.

Memory can glean, but can never renew. It brings us joys faint as is the perfume of the flowers, faded and dried, of the summer that is gone.

Tie, kurus m?c nostal?ija p?c b?rn?bas, vienk?rši ilgojas p?c t? laika, kad par vi?iem r?p?j?s.

I remember everything, Trent. Not just the bad, but the good, too.

stuffed toy from the ground and put it into