Say No to Lasagna

Pity the poor bride whose new husband truly believes her lasagna cannot compare with his mother’s. No matter how excellent his wife’s food is, it will always be judged inferior.

The sad truth is there is no way to fight this perception.

It’s rubbish, of course, because it is not the real food that is the issue, but the memory of it that is seen through rose-colored glasses. It is the remembrance of that long-lost yellow plate with a chip on the edge and painted with the daisy, on which the lasagna was served, and the way the sunlight fell across the kitchen table.

As they say, memories are made of this and there ain’t no way to fight ‘em.

Not incidentally, in the brain, the center for memory is anatomically close to the center for interpreting smell and taste.