Happy memories from the past influence our entire lives. When we connect certain foods with toys and with exciting experiences, of course we grow up with fond memories of those foods. I’ve tried to keep my son away from fast food, the quintessential children’s food, because I don’t want him to connect the flavour of that particular kind of corporate food to his childhood memories.
I grew up in an outlying area of Toronto. My neighbourhood didn’t have a McDonald’s restaurant until I was a teenager. I often wonder if the reason that I don’t crave their food the way that some of my contemporaries do is because I didn’t eat it as a child. It has no happy emotional resonance for me.
This weekend, we were invited to spend the day at a friend’s villa north of Rome. The children spent the morning swimming and chasing each other around. The adults crowded into the kitchen preparing food. Green salad, fresh mozzarella, pasta in a fresh tomato sauce with basil, even homemade pizzas baked in a wood oven and then drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with rosemary and salt.
It was a great day and the food was a part of what made it such a pleasure. It’s not about health so much as it is about enjoyment. I won’t mind at all if my son attaches fond memories to food like this.