The first meal I made for Helena was a soup in the middle of the night. Half-dressed and standing barefoot in her little studio apartment in Prospect Park, I took what I found in her refrigerator and cabinets and threw it all together. Ever since, no matter the time of day, whenever I make a…
If asked if I’m a Southerner, I say yes. I don’t hesitate. I was born and raised in North Georgia, after all. “But you don’t sound all that Southern,” comes next. “Where’s your accent?” I respond with “Well” and a next-subject-please smile, or I go into a story of how I went through speech therapy…