“And after that, you’d gone through life searching and searching—though you hadn’t realized it, not until this moment—and sometimes you came across a scent or taste that reminded you of it, that was almost it, but never quite. And now that you’d resigned yourself to your loss, here it was again, that sensation, following those prickly little preliminary surprises and sparks of flavor you couldn’t quite name, here it was in your mouth, filling your senses and whispering to you about the old dog whose curly coat moved so miraculously under your childhood fingers, the taste of a thick grass stem after rain, the feel of your mother’s hand pushing the hair from the side of your face.”