A Little Pan of Warmth
Ashley Evans
Some recipes don’t begin with measurements.
They begin with a mood.
A low oven humming like a secret,
butter melting slow and golden,
pecans tumbling across a pan like they’ve got somewhere important to be.
This is the kind of thing made barefoot,
with a sweater shrugged over one shoulder
and a window cracked just enough to let the season lean in.
He roasts the pecans the way he does most things—
by feel.
A pinch of brown sugar caught between fingers,
a dusting of cinnamon for comfort,
salt enough to make it all sing.
Stir.
Pause.
Inhale.
The kitchen smells like warmth itself—
like holidays remembered before they happened,
like laughter drifting in from the next room,
like something good is about to arrive.
They come out of the oven glossy and crackling,
sweet and savory,
impossible not to steal straight from the pan
and burn your fingers just a little.
These pecans won’t last long.
They’re meant for sharing—
tucked into little bowls,
sprinkled over salads,
wrapped up in parchment for a friend
who could use something handmade and honest.
Because sometimes the simplest things—
a pan, a nut, a bit of heat—
are how we say I’m here, I made this, I thought of you.
Roasted Pecans (Made by Feel)
• Pecans, as many as feel right
• A knob of melted butter or olive oil
• Brown sugar or maple syrup (just enough)
• Cinnamon or warming spice of choice
• A good pinch of salt
Toss everything together, spread on a pan,
roast at 350° until fragrant and golden,
stirring once and trusting your nose.
Cool slightly. Share generously.
Sneak a few for yourself.
