By November. Thanksgiving planning. The second Cascade Heights Thanksgiving. The table is growing — sixteen this year. Marcus and Keisha, Jasmine (flying from DC — her last trip before she moves to Atlanta after graduation in May), Isaiah from Charlotte, Zoe, Derek, Curtis, Darnell and Denise and their three, Aaliyah and Denise. Sixteen people at a table that seats twelve. The card table returns. The math of love is always more seats than you have.
Food drive at New Birth: year fourteen. Goal: 325 families. The number climbs. The need climbs. But the response climbs too — the church, the community, the Set the Table girls who now volunteer at the food drive because the girls who were fed are now the women who feed. The cycle. The sacred, relentless, collard-green cycle.
Zoe was accepted to SCAD. EARLY DECISION. She got the notification Tuesday afternoon, ran downstairs, and shouted, "I GOT IN!" — the first time Zoe Mitchell has shouted anything in the seven years I've known her. The quiet girl shouted. The shout was the victory. Derek cried. (He denies this. The tissues on the living room table say otherwise.) Curtis said, "Good." I said, "Good?! She got into the best art school in the Southeast!" He said, "Good." That's Curtis. "Good" is the highest mountain in his emotional range. "Good" is the Everest of Curtis Jackson. She scaled it.
Made Mama's fried chicken for Zoe's celebration. The real one. Because SCAD acceptance demands the real chicken. The original. The lard-and-flour-and-Folgers-can version that says: this is the biggest thing we can do in this kitchen. This is the chicken that means: you did it. You made it. You are extraordinary. Curtis ate two pieces. Zoe ate one. Derek ate one through tears. I ate mine standing at the counter, looking at the magnolia tree, and the tree was bare now and the kitchen was warm and my daughter — my daughter — was going to art school and the world was going to see what I've seen for seven years: that Zoe Mitchell is the future, and the future paints kitchens.
Mama’s fried chicken carries the whole weight of a moment like that — the lard, the flour, the Folgers-can seasoning — and it doesn’t need much help. But when Zoe sat down at that table, still glowing, still half in shock, I wanted something on the side that felt just a little extra, a little celebratory, a little this is not an ordinary Tuesday. This curry mayo came together in five minutes while the last pieces were draining, and it was the kind of thing that made Derek look up mid-bite and say, “What is that?” — which, from Derek, is basically a standing ovation. It’s bright, it’s bold, and it has no business being as good as it is alongside a piece of fried chicken. Just like Zoe has no business being as extraordinary as she is. And yet.
Curry Mayo Dipping Sauce
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: 8 (about 1 cup)
Ingredients
- 3/4 cup mayonnaise
- 1 1/2 teaspoons curry powder
- 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
- 1 teaspoon honey
- 1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
- 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or more to taste)
- Salt and black pepper to taste
Instructions
- Combine. In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, curry powder, lemon juice, honey, and Dijon mustard until fully incorporated.
- Season. Add the garlic powder, smoked paprika, and cayenne. Whisk again. Taste and adjust — more curry for warmth, more lemon for brightness, more honey to mellow the heat.
- Rest. Let the sauce sit for at least 5 minutes before serving so the curry powder can bloom into the mayo. If you have time, cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes — it gets better.
- Serve. Alongside fried chicken, roasted vegetables, or anything that deserves a little something extra. Store covered in the refrigerator for up to one week.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 145 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 2g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 125mg