".. .. one day in winter, as I came home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called 'petites madeleines,' which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell....No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate, a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses..."
"..And suddenly the memory returns. The taste was that of the little crumb of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before church-time), when I went to say good day to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of real or of lime-flower tea. And once I had recognized the taste of the crumb of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-flowers which my aunt used to give me... ..the whole of Combray and of its surroundings, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, all from my cup of tea. "
And with these evocative words on the power of food to evoke memories in his novel 'In Search of Lost Time', Marcel Proust would ensure that food writers and with time, food bloggers, would mention him every time they encounter a batch of madeleines. And yours truly is no different. I couldn't resist the opportunity to sound literary high brow!