Why Does Grandma's Food Always Taste So Much Better?

We've all experienced it—nothing compares to the comfort of Grandma's cooking. Even seasoned food professionals (no pun intended), we can never quite recreate that special flavor. Whether it's the original recipes, those familiar spices, or the hidden ingredients, there’s something about her dishes that just hits differently. Could it be the magic of nostalgia, or is there something more? A surprising new theory may have the answer to why that perfect taste seems so elusive.

What Makes Your Cooking Fall Short of Grandma's Flavor?

I first encountered this idea in Sam Sifton's weekly newsletter for the New York Times. While exploring a recipe for American-style goulash, Sifton suggested that it’s a perfect dish for using up old spices. This got him reminiscing about a 2016 chat with food writer Arthur Schwartz, who spoke about the value of not-so-fresh spices in some recipes.

In his article, Sifton emphasizes that a bold paprika is essential for a dish like Chicken Paprikash, which relies heavily on the spice for its distinct flavor. However, Schwartz argued that, in fact, if you’re aiming for the taste of a nostalgic, home-cooked meal, the opposite may be true.

“If you really want your food to taste like it’s from a Jewish grandmother’s kitchen, you’ll need paprika that’s been stored by the stove for at least three years,” Schwartz said with a chuckle.

Whether Schwartz was half-joking or not, his point is thought-provoking. As a food writer, I often tout the benefits of using fresh, high-quality spices. Spices are the heart of so many dishes, and the difference that fresh ones can make is immense. Plus, most of us really need to overhaul our spice cabinets every once in a while.

Spices don’t necessarily go bad over time, but they do lose their potency and flavor. In fact, this dulling effect might be just what you want for certain recipes. I remember as a kid rummaging through my grandmother’s pantry, and finding spices that had been there long before I was born. Perhaps it’s these more subtle, muted flavors that capture the essence of those cherished childhood meals.

My comfort foods are mostly simple, earthy dishes—think haluski (though we had our own name for it), matzo ball soup, and banana bread. These are the kinds of meals that are built on a few basic ingredients and very little spice. These days, I can't resist adding cinnamon to every loaf of banana bread and showering my matzo ball soup with fresh dill—though that's not how my grandma made it. If you're aiming to cook like she did, simplicity and subtlety are key. One thing’s certain, though: each dish must be made with love, just like Grandma’s.