Grilled Peach and Halloumi Panzanella

Christmas. The last good Christmas, though I didn't know it then. You never know it's the last good anything until it's over and you're standing in the aftermath looking back, wishing you'd held on tighter, stayed longer, memorized more.

The whole family came. Darnell and Denise drove from Clarksville again — Shayla, DJ, and Little Curtis packed into the backseat like sardines. Andre flew in Christmas Eve, just barely, his flight delayed three hours. He walked through the door at eleven-thirty PM and Mama was still awake, sitting in the living room with the tree lights on, waiting for him. She said, "You're late." He said, "The plane was late. I was ready." She smiled. Miss Ernestine was already installed in the guest room, having arrived Saturday, and had already rearranged the spice cabinet and told Daddy he needed new curtains.

Christmas morning. Mama came downstairs in her robe and her good wig — the one she wears when she wants to feel like herself, not a patient. She sat at the head of the kitchen table while I cooked, and she directed every dish like a conductor with a baton made of opinions. "More salt in the greens." "That ham needs another hour." "The yams need more butter — I don't care what the doctor says, it's Christmas." I followed every instruction because this was her kitchen and I was her sous chef and some things don't change even when everything is changing.

The dinner table. Fourteen people again. The food was right. The greens were right. The mac and cheese was right — Jasmine's "more cheese" note proved correct. Andre did his comedy set between courses. Marcus and DJ debated whether Alabama or Clemson would win the championship. Jasmine sang when asked. Miss Ernestine ate two plates and said the ham was "almost as good as mine," which from a woman who hasn't cooked in six years is audacious and perfect. Curtis sat at the head of the table and looked at his family — his wife, his children, his grandchildren, his mother — and he smiled. Curtis Jackson smiled at his family on Christmas Day, and it was the quietest, loudest thing I've ever seen.

Mama cooked the peach cobbler. She insisted. She stood at the counter — leaning, really, her weight on her elbows, Daddy hovering behind her pretending not to hover — and she made the cobbler from memory, her hands moving through the motions that fifty years of practice have turned into muscle and grace. The crust was perfect. The peaches were perfect. When she pulled it from the oven, she looked at me and said, "See? I can still do this." I said, "I never doubted you, Mama." She said, "Liar. But a sweet one." We laughed. I am writing this and I can still hear her laugh.

After everyone left, after the dishes were done and the kids were asleep and Daddy was in his chair with the TV on low, Mama and I sat in the kitchen one more time. She held my hand. I held hers. She said, "This was a good one, baby." She said it at Thanksgiving too. She keeps saying it. I keep hearing the goodbye underneath.

It was the cobbler that undid me — watching her lean into the counter, her hands moving through fifty years of muscle memory, those peaches glossy and golden when she pulled the dish from the oven. I’ve been reaching for peaches ever since, trying to hold onto something of that afternoon. This Grilled Peach and Halloumi Panzanella won’t replace what she made, but it honors the fruit she chose, the sweetness she insisted on, the way a single ingredient can carry an entire room full of people you love.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 ripe peaches, halved and pitted
8 oz halloumi cheese, sliced 1/2 inch thick
4 cups crusty bread, torn into bite-sized chunks (about 1/2 a loaf)
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon honey
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 cups arugula or mixed greens
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
2 tablespoons toasted pine nuts
Flaky sea salt, for finishing

Instructions

Heat the grill. Preheat a grill or grill pan over medium-high heat. Brush the grates lightly with oil to prevent sticking.
Toast the bread. Toss bread chunks with 1 tablespoon olive oil and a pinch of salt. Grill for 2—3 minutes per side until charred at the edges and crisp. Set aside in a large bowl.
Grill the peaches. Brush peach halves with a little olive oil. Place cut-side down on the grill and cook 3—4 minutes until grill marks form and the fruit softens slightly. Remove and slice each half into thirds.
Grill the halloumi. Place halloumi slices directly on the grill. Cook 2 minutes per side until golden brown with visible grill marks. Remove and cut into bite-sized pieces.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, balsamic vinegar, honey, Dijon mustard, salt, and pepper until emulsified.
Assemble. Add arugula to the bowl with the toasted bread. Top with grilled peaches and halloumi. Drizzle the dressing over everything and toss gently to combine, allowing the bread to soak up the juices.
Finish and serve. Scatter fresh basil and toasted pine nuts over the top. Finish with a pinch of flaky sea salt. Serve immediately while the halloumi is still warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Grilled Peach and Halloumi Panzanella — The Cobbler She Made From Memory