Cultural memory

An egg cream is seltzer, milk, and chocolate syrup. It's not something I grew up with; it's not something my parents drink, or that I ever remember my grandmother drinking, or anyone else in the family. (Though my grandfather, who died a few years before I was born and for whom I'm named (in Hebrew), apparently had seltzer delivered.)

A glass of seltzer, milk, and chai tea concentrate is not in fact an egg cream.

And yet...drinking it stirs something strangely Jewish in my soul. It's as if I didn't move into Jewsville, but I've moved to the next town over and am living on the town line. It's not an egg cream, and egg creams aren't really a part of me, but nevertheless some strange Platonic racial memory recognizes it and responds. It responded to the smell of chicken fat rendering as well. So very strange.