Experts say that we only use 10% of our brain’s capacity.  In fact, our brain has a very uniquely yet divine way of storing memories through our senses.  That is why I love food. LOL!  Food has a way of tapping into all of our “senses.”  When you begin to cut vegetables, herbs, meats or poultry, their mist flies into the air, then onto our skin and through our pores noses.  Boy, do I love cutting cilantro.  The smell just does something to me.  I don’t even know what it is.  After you cut your ingredients, you begin to cook them.  All the smells mesh together to produce an aroma so blissful it makes your tripas churn within.  Once that masterpiece is done you gently and strategically place it onto a plate and your eyes experience the beauty of our culinary creation.  Finally, the moment you were waiting for… tasting the masterpiece.  You take your fork, intricately pick up some of the succulent morsels of food and you lead it into the golden gates (or pearly gates if you whiten your teeth) and finally the marvelous  treasure of your process unfolds in a one of a kind experience.  You close your eyes with every bite and nod with approval like a Jedi Master as he watches their young padawans master their skills.

I receive so many messages from our subscribers telling me how our videos bring them back soooooo many memories of their childhood.  I believe in the kitchen is where most memories are made.  Why?  Because in the kitchen, all the senses are tapped and without even knowing, those tapped senses are connected to those around you at that moment.  This experience can happen anywhere not just in the kitchen.

Today, I made a pit stop at Walmart early in the morning before work to buy some D.O. FOR MY B.O. (deodorant) because I forgot to put it on at home (Happens A LOT!  Anyone else relate? No? Ok.).  I was going to be at a middle school and knowing how cruel and blunt they can be, I was not going to take a risk of having a slight fowl smell.  I quickly went to the appropriate aisle grabbed a random stick, looked at my watch and noticed I still had some time so I leisurely walked back noticing all the things on display.  I saw the Picot and my mouth began to salivate.   All the memories of times with my aunt in TJ as kids making the Picot foam out of our mouths for kicks.  Then I ran into Pomada De La Campana (Dr. Bell’s Pomade).  I breathed in and without even touching it, I instantly felt like the 10 year old who laid on Abuela’s bed and watched her rub her hands together with it to smooth over her face, freshly out of the shower.  Slowly the smell of the pomada would reached my nose and I would rest my body on her hard “Punto De Cruz” pillows like a baby who nestles in their mother’s arms.  

As adults, my kids may not have these same memories.  I may never use Pomada De La Campana but maybe I’ll share the fun experience of Picot.  Matter of fact, they WILL have different memories.  But in the kitchen, I will try to keep certain smells alive as we eat and commune with each other. I’m so grateful that my mom and Abuela are still able to help in cultivating some of those same beautiful memories for my kids–it’s what has made my life colorful.  Its life at its very best.

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