Last weekend, I was at an event when someone asked: ‘Does anyone remember being served green custard’? I laughed — I thought he was winding us up — but another guest nodded with absolute certainty. As soon as the words ‘green custard’ left his mouth, a couple of people smiled, others grimaced, and someone else swore they could taste the minty, slightly medicinal puddle from their school dinners.
That tiny, strange conversation stuck with me. It reminded me how often guests on our food and drink experiences suddenly pause, close their eyes and say: ‘That tastes just like…’, and what follows is a short, perfect memory — often from childhood. The look on someone’s face when a flavour opens a door to the past is one of the best parts of what we do.
But why does this happen? And why do those memories sometimes make us crave a dish for years — or run away from a flavour we once loved?
Food as a time machine: what the research says
Psychologists studying food-evoked nostalgia show that food is a powerful trigger for autobiographical memories. These memories are typically vivid, emotionally charged and linked to identity and social connection — exactly the kinds of stories people tell on food tours when a dish ‘takes them back’.
Smell and taste have a direct line to the brain regions that process emotion and memory. A single aroma or flavour — whether the minty tang of a school custard or the snap of a perfectly baked loaf — can revive scenes and feelings from decades ago. Neuroscientists often call this the Proust phenomenon (after Marcel Proust’s famous madeleine moment): odour- and taste-cued memories tend to be older, more emotional and more vivid than those prompted by sights or sounds.
Marketers know this, too. ‘Nostalgic’ flavours and labels reliably increase a product’s appeal because they tap into positive memories and a sense of comfort. It’s why retro flavours and childhood classics keep cycling back onto supermarket shelves and menus.
Childhood dinners, green custard and why school food matters
School dinners — and early family meals — are a classic source of long-lived food memories. Whether it’s the bland geometry of a boiled potato, an over-sauced casserole, or a vividly coloured custard ladled from a battered jug, those communal and often ritualised mealtimes stick. People told their green-custard stories with the same warmth and wry humour they reserve for tales about a favourite teacher or a Saturday ritual.
It’s also worth noting: not all food preferences are simply ‘learned’. Genetics play a role. UK research suggests a lot of children’s picky eating is driven by differences in taste sensitivity, which then interacts with what’s served at home and school. Family and school meals are the stage where genes and experience meet — and those early experiences often become the scripts we replay as adults.
Wild nights, bad olives and the long shadow of taste
Not every strong flavour-memory is warm. A rough hangover after too much tequila, a bowl of under-ripe, bitter olives in a friend’s tiny flat, or a kitchen mishap can put us off a food or drink for years. Alcohol also affects how memories are formed: high levels can blur the details, but the emotional intensity still forges a strong association — good or bad — with the flavours present. A mediocre tequila and a bad night can make you avoid tequila for a long time; a brilliant evening paired with a particular cocktail can turn that spirit into a lifetime comfort cue.
Why this matters for how we dine today
These memory–flavour links steer our dining choices more than we realise. Nostalgia drives purchases, comfort-seeking and even which experiences we book. On a food tour we see it live: one mouthful prompts laughter, a reunion story, or a tactical swap (‘I’ll take that — I can’t bear anchovies’). Knowing guests carry decades of flavour associations helps us design tours that balance comfort and curiosity — a plate that nods to childhood alongside something new to make fresh memories.
Making better, richer food memories (tips from a guide)
Be mindful. Pause to notice texture, aroma and where the flavour sits on your tongue. Attention helps memories stick.
Tell the story. Share where the dish came from or who taught you to eat it. Social context strengthens and deepens the memory.
Pair familiar with new. Try a childhood favourite in a different preparation — keep the comfort, add a fresh association.
Create small rituals. A warm cup at a particular time or a family recipe on a special date helps anchor memories over time.
Use tours to reconnect. Experiencing a loved flavour from childhood, prepared well and in good company, is a fast route to those nostalgic feelings.
Small joys, big stories
That green custard story is a neat example of how tiny culinary details can open whole rooms of memory. As guides, we get to be present for those moments — the small bite that becomes a story about a kitchen, a parent, a lost holiday or a ridiculous school assembly. It’s why food tours aren’t just ‘tasting’ trips: they’re memory-making trips.
If you want to test this for yourself, come on a tour in Chester, Liverpool, Manchester, Shrewsbury or Wrexham bring curiosity, an open palate and maybe an old school-pudding story. We’ll bring the food; you bring the memories. You can also find gift cards for that perfect Christmas present.
Key sources & further reading (for the curious)
Reid et al., Cognition & Emotion: food-evoked nostalgia and autobiographical memory.
Reviews of the ‘Proust phenomenon’ and smell–memory links (e.g., Frontiers in Psychology; Harvard Gazette summaries).
Zhou et al.: nostalgic labels and consumer behaviour.
UK reporting on genetics and ‘fussy eating’ in children (The Guardian, 2024).
Research on alcohol’s effects on memory encoding and hangovers (PMC reviews).
