By The second week of lockdown, and the household has begun to develop the rhythms that will sustain us — the rhythms of people who have no choice but to be together and who must find, in the togetherness, something other than confinement. James studies in his room. Carrie studies at the dining table. Robert works from home — the law firm has gone remote, and the remote-ness is visible in his face, which carries the bewildered expression of a man who has spent twenty-seven years in an office and who is now conducting depositions from a laptop in the guest bedroom.
Mama does not know there is a pandemic. She knows the house is full. She knows people are home during the day. She knows I am in the kitchen more than usual. But she does not know why, and the not-knowing is the mercy I keep returning to, the mercy that the disease provides without intending to: the mercy of being spared the fear that the rest of us carry like a weight in our chests, the constant, low-grade terror of a world that has become dangerous.
Ruth cannot come. The exposure risk is too high for both Mama and Ruth. I am Mama's sole caregiver now, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and the twenty-four-ness is both intimate and exhausting. I am with Mama when she wakes, when she eats, when she wanders, when she hums, when she sleeps. I am the guardrail and the companion and the translator and the cook, and the cooking is the only part of the role that does not drain me, because cooking for someone you love is not caregiving. It is worship.
James has been cooking dinner three nights a week — not because I asked but because he saw. He saw the exhaustion. He saw the circles under my eyes. He saw his mother standing at the stove at seven PM after being awake since five AM, and he said, "I'll cook tonight," and he cooked, and the cooking was shrimp and grits (his version, with the lemon), and the cooking was love, and the love was the first thing that has made me cry in a week — not the virus, not the confinement, not the fear, but my son, at twenty, standing at the stove where I stand, making the food I taught him to make, feeding the family I have been feeding alone.
I made bread. Not Lowcountry bread, not biscuits or cornbread, but a simple loaf — flour, water, yeast, salt. The bread rose while the world contracted. The bread baked while the news worsened. The bread cooled on the counter while Mama hummed and Carrie typed and James read and Robert paced. The bread was the answer to a question no one had asked: what do you make when you can't make anything better? You make bread. You make the thing that has sustained humans for ten thousand years. You make the simplest thing. And the simplest thing is enough.
That loaf I described —plain and quiet and enough —was not the only bread that came out of our kitchen during those weeks. A few days later, James stood beside me and we made this one together: garlicky, buttery, cheesy, the kind of bread that fills a house with a smell so good it pulls people out of their rooms. After so much silence and separation, even within our own walls, we needed something that would call everyone to the table —and this did exactly that.
Buttery Parmesan Garlic Bread
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 22 min | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 loaf Italian or French bread, halved lengthwise
- 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
- 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, finely chopped
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/8 teaspoon black pepper
Instructions
- Preheat. Heat your oven to 375°F. Line a baking sheet with foil.
- Make the butter spread. In a small bowl, combine softened butter, minced garlic, Parmesan, parsley, salt, and pepper. Stir until fully blended and smooth.
- Spread generously. Place bread halves cut-side up on the prepared baking sheet. Divide the butter mixture evenly between both halves, spreading all the way to the edges.
- Bake. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the edges are golden and the butter has melted through completely. For a crispier top, broil on high for the final 1–2 minutes, watching closely.
- Slice and serve. Remove from the oven and let rest for 2 minutes before slicing into individual portions. Serve warm.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 320mg