Ranch Memories

I think it's truly amazing how various scents can quickly evoke memories. I heard somewhere that this is because the smell part of our brain is right next to the memory part. Whether that's true or not, it makes sense to me. Yet, it doesn't really touch the evocative connection of smell and memory.

 Are there certain smells that immediately open memories for you? For me, the smell of...

• Diesel exhaust takes me right back to the noise, chaos and stink of London traffic
• Coffee is the breath of a kiss my mom gave to wake me up for elementary school
• Coppertone (not Hawaiian Tropic or Banana Boat) sends me to lazy summers, warm beach sand and trying to get a tan
• Mildew is the dubious welcome of the cottage each spring
• Wood smoke evokes winter push-push-pushing fading fall into the past

I was surprised the other day when a flood of memories hit me ... not because of a smell but because of salad dressing. Yep ... mundane salad dressing. As I was mixing the mayonnaise and buttermilk with sprinkles of parsley, garlic powder and onion powder, the essence of that white glop sent me instantly back in time. In my mind's eye, I was sitting in the family dining room of our house on Highridge Court in Midland.

The memories were happy ones. I am one of five hungry kids sitting around the picnic table (yes, we had a picnic table complete with benches inside the house) with our parents, waiting for grace ("Bless us o Lord and these thy gifts...") to end so we could dig in to Mom's culinary effort.

Now that I'm the "mom cook" in our family, I think I know how much my mom enjoyed (not) our verbal dissection of her cooking.

"What is this?"

"Does it have mushrooms in it?"
"Do I like this?"
"It needs salt."
"Pass the salt. Oh, sahREE, please pass the salt."

I also think of the salad dressing timeline of my early life:

• the cruet of Italian dressing my mom made with packets of Good Seasons mix
• the homemade Caesar dressing coating limp salad and soggy croutons leftover from some grown-up dinner party
• the tantalizing Thousand Island dressing that only lived in restaurants as far as I knew

But then Ranch -- Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing -- arrived and the other dressings faded into the condiment background. I don't understand the mystical power of Ranch. Somehow it can turn almost anything into the "perfect bite." Obviously, it takes salad on a savory dance and vegetables become palatable appetizers and side dishes.

 

Beyond leafy greens and crudites, Ranch adds creamy spiciness to bites of steak, chicken, turkey burgers, pork chops, tacos, tortilla chips, potato chips, potatoes. (And I just learned that my niece, TGB, likes it with pizza.)

 

When I shared my Ranch-fueled trip down memory lane with my family (as they were delicately dipping broccoli in the Ranch Dressing I had just made), GMG suggested I write a haiku about Ranch. In the five seconds it took me to think "Hey! That's a cool idea," CAG had one written.

 

Her poem comes straight from the heart, reflects her respect for Ranch and was roundly supported by GMG and GJG. I guess another generation falls to the dressing magic.

 

Magician of food
Only ranch dressing can save
Yucky veg'tables

 

We do have one Ranch holdout in our household, though. My husband -- he-who-shall-not-be-salad-dressed -- won't touch it or any type of salad dressing. Clearly not a deal breaker for our marriage. But I do wonder how many relationships have struggled and survived Ranch vs. ketchup.