I have heard it said that of the five senses the sense of smell can bring to the surface memories long buried away beneath the cobwebs of years and decades. An aroma can, in an instant, search throughout the innumerable files of all the memories held in our subconscious to locate a precise memory, dust it off, and present it to our conscious mind, transporting us back to a particular place and time in our past.

If this is indeed the case, then buried deep within my gray matter resides the memory of the scent of the meatballs my grandmother used to make. Sadly, it is a scent, and an accompanying taste, which I have not enjoyed in a quarter century. For although the aroma may remain forever locked away within the file cabinet of my memory, the recipe itself – its inspired combination of ingredients perhaps never committed to paper – is seemingly lost for all of time. In which case, I will never again taste those meatballs.