‘On the couch’ with Jasminda

DEAR Jasminda,

Last night I made a birthday dinner for my mum.

I decided to make the veggie burgers that I used to love as a teenager because I thought it would be nostalgic.

The dinner was panned by every family member as being ‘bland’, ‘missing something’ and ‘disappointing’. I feel as though my energy and enthusiasm was completely wasted.

I doubt I’ll bother again.

Innes P.

Dear Innes,

In a strange way, this reminds me of a fateful trip to Europe to try to relive my younger days.

Before this, my memories of Europe were of languid afternoons sitting at bars on the top of snow-capped mountains, vigorous clubbing, copious quantities of chocolate, fondue, and, importantly, the joie de vivre one experiences in the giddy throes of youth with a childhood friend.

The return trip had a few key differences.

One: I was decades older.

Two: I was travelling with a family including sulky teens instead of my lifelong friend.

Three: It was a different season, so the snow-capped mountains were replaced with fields of green (still beautiful, but inconsistent with my memories).

Four: There was an inability to bounce back from an overconsumption of food (and Schnapps — but that’s another story).

Sitting now, on my back deck, my mind is travelling back to experiences only accessible by drawing on my memories.

And that is the point I am trying to make (if I can pull myself out of the depths of sentimentality).

You can’t recreate the past, Innes. I suspect your decision around the veggie burgers was doomed from the start, because it was never about the veggie burgers.

It was about a time of life when dreams and ambitions were within your grasp.

It was about the salt in your hair after a day at the beach.

The smell of coconut oil that you’d plastered all over your body. It was about a time as vivid and evocative as a Don Henley song.

And now it has been replaced with the cold slap of being an adult, (and solar keratoses from too much youthful sun exposure) coupled with an ungrateful family, and, to top if off, an unpalatable veggie patty washed down with alfalfa, a whole grain bun and wilted lettuce.

Heck, Innes, now I’m feeling despondent.

From experience, sharing meals based on memories can be a success or an unmitigated disaster.

Either way, no one can hold you solely responsible.

We can’t relive the past, and we certainly can’t expect others to understand the deeply personal elements of our particular blend of nostalgia.

Instead, they may view something important to you as ‘bland’, ‘missing something’ or ‘disappointing’. There’s nothing you can really do about that.

Well… nothing except perhaps swap out the veggie burger for a baked dinner with succulent roast lamb, potatoes twice-baked in duck fat to give them that satisfying crunch, honeyed carrots topped with sesame seeds, homemade gravy, and a selection of sauces including mint sauce and cranberry (gently warmed).

I suspect that may help your other family members lean into their sense of yearning.

Carpe diem,

Jasminda.