My first food-and-weed epiphany was a quasi-religious experience—one that happened more than three decades ago. I was in high school and had smoked a joint on the walk over to my best friend’s house, arriving quite stoned. In the grip of the munchies, I asked him if there was anything I could eat. He told me to help myself to the pots of Ethiopian food upstairs in the kitchen.

Aromas washed over me like a tidal wave as I entered the kitchen—berbere, garlic, ginger, chili. The array of fragrant spices flooding my senses made me want all of whatever was creating the wonderful smells. A bit of drool slid from the corner of my mouth, which I found hilarious. I began to laugh as I tried to figure out where the plates and utensils were kept in this unfamiliar kitchen. This was no easy task as each drawer yielded the wrong results. To me this was hysterical. Tears streamed down my face from laughing so hard. Somehow I managed to find the proper gear and opened the first lid on the stove. As I peered into a pot of chicken legs and a whole egg drowning in a curry-like sauce, I smelled the food in a way I never had before. The scent lingered in my nostrils; I lingered above the pots. I must’ve stood there for 10 minutes smelling the food and laughing out loud.

Then it was time to eat.

I decided to take my time and really enjoy it. The memory of that first bite is seared into my mind. I could taste each flavor, each spice. I noticed the texture in my mouth, the heat, the chili burning my tongue, the chicken falling off the bone. It tasted so good, like the best thing I had ever eaten. I began to wonder if my mother had ever cooked anything so spectacular. It was a moment of pure pleasure.

My friend came upstairs as I was eating. Whoever made this food needed to open a restaurant right away, I told him. That’s when he noticed my bloodshot eyes and busted me for being high as a kite. After a long laugh, he then schooled me on the proper way to eat this cuisine, showing me how to use the spongy injera bread and my fingers to scoop up everything. We sat in silence and ate, and I swear I thought I saw Jesus. I think I even stood up when I was done, applauding and saying “Bravo!” My friend made sure to usher my stoned ass out of his house before his parents came home. On my walk back, I noticed my senses were still heightened; I could still smell and taste the delicious flavors and spices.

That meal left a deep impression—37 years later, it’s clear as a bell. And they say stoners can’t remember anything. On the contrary, science says it’s perfectly normal for me to remember that THC-enhanced meal with such clarity.

When cannabis hits your brain, a lot happens to your appetite. Two recent studies conducted with mice, one in the United States and the other in Europe, tell us a lot. The European study reveals that the olfactory area of the brain becomes more active when THC is in your system. This explains why the smell of the food captured my attention all those years ago. In fact, when I tap into that memory, I can still “smell” those scents wafting off the stovetop. It’s because the weed made that area of my brain more sensitive—and smell, in general, stimulates appetite. When smell is enhanced, so is appetite, and so is the memory of smell and taste. That’s why you can remember great meals over the years, even without any assistance from cannabis.

The American study reveals two opposing things that happen in a different part of the brain called the hypothalamus, which tells you when you’re full and need to stop eating, among other things. THC appears to turn this function down or off, and also causes the release of dopamine, which can make you feel hungry. That’s why the munchies can strike even after you’ve indulged in a big dinner. Hours after the main meal, you may find yourself getting that third plate of turkey this Thanksgiving.

This year, as we forgo large gatherings and set more intimate tables, let’s spark up some cannabis together and blow some smoke at the Zoom screen. You may find yourself slowing down, taking time to smell your meal, marveling at all the different tastes you can experience simultaneously—and maybe laughing out loud until tears of joy stream down your face. What better way to settle into the holidays?

Tune in next month for more about cannabis, pleasure and why weed can be the best gift of all.