I woke up to the smell of bacon in my kitchen this morning and I smiled at how comforting I find that aroma even though I rarely eat bacon.

It reminds me of childhood and breakfasts that lingered.

Weekend breakfasts.

And the smell of coffee in a percolator. Remember those? They produced the best sounds. I made coffee for a Mother’s Day Brunch I hosted last weekend and the aroma of that coffee brought forth a flood of “coffee memories.” Like when my first marriage ended and I felt compelled to purchase a coffeepot with a timer because somehow just knowing that I would wake up to a freshly brewed pot of coffee was comforting to me. That was a time when overripe bananas could send me into a tailspin of tears because all I could think was…how does ONE person eat all those bananas? It never occurred to me to purchase fewer bananas.

I want to hang on to those memories. The good ones. I want to brew a pot of coffee just to experience the myriad thoughts and feelings that surface as the steamy, bitter brown liquid drips into the automatic coffee maker. I want to bake a loaf of bread, real bread, and know that even though it contains the dreaded gluten, I am deeply nourished by a slice of homemade bread every once in a while.

And aromas.

More aromas. I want those scents wafting through the air. Particularly on a rainy, dreary day.

The smell of Grandma’s kitchen. I want that, too. Things bubbled in that kitchen. The minute you entered, you knew you were in for a sensory adventure. Grandma had a great big cast iron skillet on top of her stove. She’d throw a couple drops of water into the pan to see if the temperature was right and those drops would dance around the pan—hip hop in a skillet. Then came the garlic. My grandmother used garlic in just about everything she cooked. Except maybe her lemon cake. While most of the children in my neighborhood were feasting on very white, very soft Wonder Bread slathered with peanut butter and oozing grape jelly, I was enjoying big slices of crusty homemade Italian bread with sautéed spinach and garlic. To this day, the smell of garlic brings me right back to my grandmother’s kitchen.

Is it any wonder we have so much trouble giving up foods that someone, somewhere has decided we should no longer eat? I say, make peace with food. Be sure to experiment, yes. Some foods simply don’t serve you. Whenever possible, upgrade but if the upgrade is doesn’t delight you, drop it from your repertoire. There are some foods that simply beg to be eaten in their original form.

Like grandma’s lemon cake.

How about you? What aromas do you enjoy in your kitchen?

Lemon Olive Oil Cake
from the September 2002 issue of O, The Oprah Magazine

• vegetable oil, for brushing pan
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 5 large eggs , separated, plus 2 large egg whites
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon zest
• 1/3 cup Gewurztraminer (or similar sweet white wine)
• 1/2 cup DaVero Meyer-lemon olive oil or extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 pint fresh berries (blackberries, blueberries, or raspberries), plus additional for garnish
• 2 to 4 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar (depending on desired sweetness)

Directions

Preheat oven to 325°. Brush a 9-inch spring form pan with vegetable oil; line bottom with parchment paper.

Combine flour and salt in a medium bowl and set aside. In a large bowl, beat 5 egg yolks and sugar at medium-high speed about 2 to 3 minutes, until it is light yellow and ribbons form when beaters are lifted. Add flour mixture to egg mixture and beat on medium-low until well blended. Beat in lemon zest. In a small bowl, combine wine and olive oil; gradually pour into large bowl in a thin, steady stream, beating until thoroughly combined. Set aside.

In a clean mixing bowl, beat 7 egg whites until stiff (not dry) peaks form. Gently fold 1/3 of whites into batter with a rubber spatula, then fold in remaining whites just until combined.

Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake 45 to 50 minutes, until cake springs back when gently touched and toothpick inserted into center comes out clean. Remove pan from oven and cool on a wire rack. Run a long, thin knife around edge of pan; detach ring. Pulse berries and confectioners’ sugar in a blender or food processor until smooth, about 30 seconds. Top cake with puree and fresh berries. Enjoy!