Appealing aromas

One of the joys of  walking around an Italian town, especially in the morning, is the wonderful aroma of coffee that wafts through the air, luring you in, to the nearest bar. Just the aroma, is pleasure enough. Sometimes, I think it is as good as drinking it, so closely bound are the senses of smell and taste.

When I first came to live in Italy, over 30 years ago, the word espresso was little used in Britain. When friends came to visit  and I took them for coffee  in an Italian bar, they were horrified. "Is that it?", they would say, astonished at the small cup placed before them. No chance to linger over a huge mug of instant or percolated. We would stand at the bar and the coffee would be gone in a flash. After a few days, however, they grew to like it. The sharp, intense flavour, the bustle and vibe of the bars, here there was life! People going about their business, with just enough time to say, "Un caffè", and then back to what they were doing.

There have been changes, here, as to the way Italians drink coffee.They joke about it. No-one asks for a simple coffee anymore. Un caffè, un macchiatone, un caffè lungo, un caffè macchiato lungo, un cappuccino decaf, un caffè macchiato in tazza grande, the list has become endless here too. The waiters have the amazing ability to remember it all without writing it down. This is definitely an Italian talent.

The wonderful smell of freshly ground coffee, is the essence of an Italian town for me. The scent of pine transports me to France, fresh, clean, earth after the rain and I 'm in England-where else?, a leather bag takes me back to my schooldays, disinfectant and baby powder to the birth of my children, clean washing to their childhood - when I was in charge of the laundry - a chocolate cake cooking to Saturday afternoons.

I was thinking about the great power of the sense of smell and memory, when playing with my grand-daughter, who smelt like lemon soap. This brought back memories of Auntie Joan and her Bronnley gift box. My grand-daughter thrust an African violet under my nose. "Do you think this has a perfume or a stink ?", she demanded. Well, I had to think about it for a while.

Aroma-good, scent-good, perfume-good? Smell? Could be either: good or stink-bad.

Of course, she said it in Italian, profumo-good, puzza-bad.