I turned to my sister, spoonful of vinaigrette in hand. “Taste this.” She makes a face. “It’s … good.” “You already made a face.” “Well, it’s really … mustardy.” I couldn’t taste the mustard, nor the garlic, nor the lemon juice, nothing. And yet, I had a deep craving for this vegetarian Caesar salad and a deep need to make one, and a deep need to share it with my family, just as I would have any other day of my life. My craving to make and share food did not disappear with my taste and smell.