My brother-in-law asked that question while holding a plastic fork like it was a question mark. We were at my sister’s house, standing around a folding table that had seen better days. The summer heat was pressing against the screen door, and the air smelled like charcoal and cut grass. I had brought this salad over because I didn’t want to make a whole meal. I just wanted something cool, something creamy, something that wouldn’t melt in the humidity. I watched him take a bite. Really watch it. He chewed slowly, eyebrows creeping up toward his hairline. Then he took … Read more

I was twelve, maybe thirteen, and the air was thick enough to chew. We had just finished a chaotic dinner of burgers that were slightly burnt on the outside and raw in the middle, but nobody cared. The real magic happened when my aunt brought out the grill, not for meat, but for fruit. She didn’t say much. She just sliced those late-summer peaches, halved them, and laid them face-down on the hot grate. The sound was immediate, a sharp hiss that cut through the cicadas. I remember watching the sugar caramelize, turning the flesh from pale orange to a … Read more