Why can’t we record (nice) smells? (London)

 

I was given a wedge of one of the pumpkins grown on the vegetable allotment that I’d been helping out on with weeding and watering.

    The moment I cut into it to make smaller chunks, I had a “Mmmmmm!” moment.  The smell given off was so gorgeous that I immediately realised that we can’t record (nice) smells the same way as we can for visuals and sounds, so that we can go back and relive the experience over and over again.

    About two decades ago, I was doing a bit of freelance interpreting at hospital appointments.  After one of these assignments, I decided to accompany the lady (aged 84) home on the bus, although it wasn’t part of my remit.  (I have a soft spot for old people.  https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2021/02/soft-spot-for-old-people-singapore.html)  

    To thank me for my extra trouble, she fished out a melon from her kitchen cupboard, called 魚翅瓜 / 鱼翅瓜 / yú chì guā / “fish fin melon”.  Known mostly as shark’s fin melon, it is now common enough, especially in the East, but I’d never seen it in my childhood days in Singapore.

    Its Latin name is Cucurbita Ficifolia, with alternative names of Chilacayote, Cabell d’Àngel, Fig Leaf Gourd and Cayote.

    Its visual impact is striking.  The outside is leopard-spot-fashion blobs of white against a green background, with the occasional white stripe from one end to the other.  The flesh is white with black seeds in the pulp.  

    So, where does the “shark’s fin” bit in the name come from?  When scooped out, the pulp looks like strands of vermicelli, or shark’s fin, similar in looks to spaghetti marrow in that they both have noodle-like strings.

    Soon after I brought it back, in November, I went down with a bad cold (winter flu season), losing my sense of smell and taste in the process.  I wasn’t sure how long the melon would keep, so I decided to use it.  Took it downstairs to my landlord as he had a picture-framing workshop in the basement with the right tools to get through the hard rind.

    The moment he sawed it open, a strong whiff of cool melon sensation hit my nostrils, in spite of my having lost my sense of smell.  It reminded me vividly of the smell of watermelon, especially on a hot day, as you bring it to your mouth: fruity and refreshing.

    This was exactly what I got yesterday when I cut into the pumpkin wedge.  I wish I could’ve recorded that smell, to be replayed to myself or shared with other people.

(London, 2025)