It was a taste lost in our past. Nutty buttery, sweet and toasty, and warm like a hug. We looked everywhere, sifting through old diaries, stacks of faded photos, and boxes from the hall closet. We found it again on a beat-up baking sheet where a batch of freshly roasted pecans waited to become a pie, as steam drifted up from the coffee in Grandma's favorite cup.