Just like in Ratatouille, there are certain foods that instantly transport my mind to the past.Noodle soup is my all-time favorite. But there’s a specific way of preparing the broth—a perfect blend of tomato, salt, and some magic powders—that immediately brings back memories of rainy summer afternoons, homework days, or a childhood argument over something trivial.Then there’s roast chicken. It’s a dish with countless recipes and just as many ways to prepare it. It was never my favorite meal, but once again, the tomato—this vegetable so present in many Mexican dishes and tasting different in each one—blends with the chicken, a kind of chili, and other magical elements in such a distinct way. I’ve found that specific flavor at a modest diner, and when I want to punch a ticket back to the ’80s, I order that dish. It still isn’t my favorite, but it comforts me with the memory of learning to ride a bike and the puddles filled with tadpoles after the rain.There are countless tacos. Tacos al pastor, with endless preparation styles too. But there’s a certain kind—the red kind—that’s especially dear to me. It’s a recipe not often found these days, now hidden in small, out-of-the-way taquerías. That taco al pastor, warm with lime and red salsa, tastes like heaven—and it also brings back the feeling of childhood with my parents: eating in the car with my mom, or standing tall beside my dad, feeling like a grown-up. Most visits to the pediatrician were actually just opportunities to go eat tacos.I love that some foods are like windows to the past. They let me glimpse and reflect on behaviors—my parents’ and my own—that I couldn’t understand or appreciate at the time.