Grilled Nectarines with Burrata and Honey

Brianna's week. Detroit Jazz Festival next month. The Riverfront getting ready. Worked four shifts this week at the plant. The line ran clean.

Pop's in the recliner. Tigers on. Sugar in range this week. Sunday at Mama's. She made greens with hambone the way she has since 1985.

Grilled chicken Saturday. Marinated in lemon and herbs. The Weber kettle.

Aiden's 10. The youth basketball league. I'm coaching. He's the best player on the team and he knows it. Zaria's 7. Helps me cook on a step stool. Has opinions about the seasoning.

I am tired in the right way. The right way is the cost of love. I will pay it.

Watched the Tigers Sunday afternoon. Lost in extras. Detroit reflex. I yelled at the TV the way Pop used to yell at the TV. The TV did not respond. The bullpen will probably not respond either.

Truck needed an oil change Saturday. Did it myself in the driveway. Took an hour. The neighbor across the street gave me a thumbs-up from his porch. I gave him one back. Detroit men do not waste words on car maintenance.

The Lions on TV Sunday. Lost on a missed field goal. Detroit. The neighborhood collectively groaned at the same moment. You could hear it through the windows.

I read for an hour Sunday night. A book about the auto industry. Half memoir, half history. Made me think about Pop and the line and the fragile contract that built the middle of this country. I underlined the parts that hit.

I cleaned the smoker Sunday morning. Brushed the grates. Emptied the ash. Wiped down the body. The smoker repays attention. So does most everything that matters.

The drive home Friday was the long way around. I took Outer Drive past the lake. The water was still. I do not always notice the water. I noticed Friday.

Drove past Jefferson North on Tuesday. The plant is still the plant. The trucks coming out. I waved at the gate guard out of habit. He waved back even though he didn't know me. The plant is its own neighborhood.

A neighbor down the street gave me a tomato plant Saturday. He grows them on his porch. Said he had extra. I put it next to the back step where it gets the afternoon sun. Detroit gardens are improvised victories.

A reader wrote in about the smothered pork chops. Said her late husband loved them. I wrote back. I told her about Pop. We exchanged three emails. She's in Saginaw. She's coming to the city in the spring.

I made grocery lists on the back of envelopes the way Mama did. The list this week was short — onions, garlic, half-and-half, cornmeal, a pound of bacon. The list is the recipe of the week before it happens.

Mama left me a voicemail Wednesday. She said, "DeShawn. Don't forget Sunday." I had not forgotten Sunday. I have not forgotten Sunday in twenty years. The reminder is the love. I called her back.

The kids next door knocked over my trash cans Tuesday night. Their dad made them help me clean up Wednesday morning. Good man. The kids apologized. I gave them each a Capri Sun. Cycle complete.

Mr. Williams across the street had a heart scare. He is okay. We are all watching each other now. I took him a plate of greens and chicken Wednesday. He said, "DeShawn. You're a good neighbor." I said, "We're even, Mr. Williams. You shoveled my walk in 2024." He laughed.

The block had a small drama Tuesday. Somebody parked in front of Ms. Diane's driveway. Ms. Diane addressed it directly. The car moved within the hour. The neighborhood polices itself on small things.

The chicken came off the Weber and the coals were still going — that slow, amber kind of heat that feels like it’s asking you not to waste it. Zaria was still on her step stool. She looked at the nectarines on the counter and said they needed to go on the grill too, and honestly, she was right. That’s how this one happened: a seven-year-old with opinions about seasoning, a Weber with some life left in it, and the kind of tired Saturday that deserves something a little sweet at the end.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 8 min | Total Time: 18 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 ripe nectarines, halved and pitted
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon light brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
8 oz fresh burrata (two 4 oz balls)
3 tablespoons honey
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
Fresh basil leaves, for serving
Flaky sea salt, for finishing

Instructions

Heat the grill. Prepare a charcoal or gas grill for medium-high direct heat, around 400—425°F. Clean and lightly oil the grates.
Season the nectarines. Brush the cut sides of the nectarines with olive oil, then sprinkle evenly with brown sugar and kosher salt.
Grill cut-side down. Place nectarines cut-side down on the grates. Grill undisturbed for 4—5 minutes, until caramelized with clear grill marks and the flesh has softened slightly.
Flip and finish. Flip nectarines and grill on the skin side for 2—3 more minutes. Remove from heat and let rest 2 minutes.
Plate and dress. Arrange grilled nectarines on a serving platter. Tear burrata over the top in large pieces. Drizzle generously with honey. Scatter basil leaves and red pepper flakes over everything.
Finish with salt. Hit it with a pinch of flaky sea salt just before serving. Eat warm while the burrata is still soft from the residual heat.

Nutrition (per serving)

Grilled Nectarines with Burrata and Honey — Something Sweet Off the Weber After a Week Well Spent