The memories come flooding back, all because of this stinky tofu!

From childhood to adulthood, the shouts of the stinky tofu vendor were moments of pure joy and excitement. The mere mention of 'stinky tofu' from afar carried the scent in all directions. It was the best late-night snack of our childhood, a rare liberation for our parents. There were hardly any snacks available besides regular meals, let alone indulging in late-night treats, even though they wished for it. But they adhered to the principle of practicing what they preached about maintaining a healthy lifestyle, concealing their desires to indulge.

Back in the day, when they were young, they loved it, especially my dad. Just hearing the call for stinky tofu and asking him if he wanted to buy some would often end in success. The unique aspect was the mobile food cart, the vendor pushing the stinky tofu cart around the alleys. When Grandpa was younger, he used to push the cart right to the entrance of our lane, but with age, he switched to an electric cart and hasn't come near our lane since.

In the past, when the internet wasn't as accessible, satisfying the craving meant waiting or trying luck on the streets. Its movements followed a pattern yet were unpredictable, sometimes not knowing when it would be available. Now, with advanced connectivity, it's the customers who chase after it. Occasionally, someone in a local Facebook group would post seeking its whereabouts, and everyone would share the information, updating on its location for the next enthusiast to follow the scent.

Purchasing a pricier serving of stinky tofu, inhaling its aroma, triggers memories of the past. The scent isn't just stinky tofu; it carries a rush of nostalgia. Perhaps it's not the most delicious stinky tofu anymore, but it's the most evocative. If the vendor truly retires one day, will we lose this memory too?