If ever there was a time of year when food is tied to memory, it’s November and December. 

It’s comforting to walk through the door and experience that sensory overload of familiar aromas. It’s the very definition of “coming home.” 

As the holidays approach, we pull out recipes, plan menus and compile grocery lists.

Many of the dishes we make for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners are predictable . . . and there’s nothing wrong with that.

As an adult, I’ve always lived out of state from family, which means spending holiday meals with friends. Over the years, those friends became family and we’ve built our own traditions—including special dishes that are expected.

I wouldn’t dream of showing up for Thanksgiving dinner at my friends’ home without bringing corn pudding. Only in the South can a side dish that is nearly all carbs be considered a veggie.

Research shows that flavor is closely linked to sense of smell, and that memories associated with smell are weighted with more emotion than visual memories. This explains why particular scents can instantly revive decades-old memories. 

Specific foods fall into the category of “favorites” because of memories and associations. I’ve realized that many of the dishes I cherish aren’t simply favorites because they taste good (although they do), but because they bring to mind special moments and people.

I distinctly remember being in the kitchen alongside my grandmother as she made her delicious cinnamon rolls. Being only 6 or 7 years old, I wasn’t much actual “help,” but I’ll never forget those memories and flavors. 

I still make cheese enchiladas from the family recipe of an old friend in Tucson. I left Arizona decades ago but when I pull out that stained recipe card and see her handwriting, and later taste that perfect combination of Southwestern flavors, all the years melt away.

Corn pudding aside, I’m often the one asked to make dessert for a get-together. It always makes me smile when a friend exclaims, “Your lemon bars are the best!” 

I’ve been making these tart-sweet-buttery treats for nearly 40 years. The recipe card is so worn and faded, the printing is nearly illegible. Whenever I bite into one of these bars, I’m flooded with memories of friends, old and current, and past celebrations—all seasoned with love and laughter.