Honey Barbecue Sauce

The cookbook is gaining momentum. Sales: five thousand copies and climbing. A book tour is planned — twelve cities, mostly Southern, mostly churches and community centers because that's where my people are. The publisher is cautiously optimistic (there's that word again — cautiously — the word that has followed me through cancer and love and publishing). I am going on a BOOK TOUR. Tamika Washington from Cascade Heights is going to twelve cities to talk about a Folgers can and fried chicken and the women who stand at stoves. The girl who stood on a step stool is going on a book tour. Mama would be insufferable. Mama would tell EVERYONE. Mama would bring copies to the grocery store and hand them to strangers. I am going to do the same thing. I am my mother's daughter.

Marcus called from Morehouse. He said, "Mom, my professor uses your book in his African American Studies class." My book. In a COLLEGE CLASS. At MOREHOUSE. My son's professor is teaching my mother's recipes as cultural history. The fried chicken is a primary source. The cornbread is a text. The Folgers can is an artifact. Brenda Jackson's kitchen is being studied in a lecture hall at a historically Black college, and the woman who studied it first — the woman on the step stool, the woman with the spoon — that woman is me, and I am in a kitchen in Cascade Heights making dinner and laughing because the world is absurd and beautiful and Mama would have said, "Tell that professor more garlic."

When Marcus told me a whole lecture hall full of Morehouse men were studying Mama’s fried chicken like it was Shakespeare, I did what any reasonable woman would do—I laughed until I cried, and then I made a batch of this Honey Barbecue Sauce because it’s what Mama always kept in a jar by the stove for dipping. You can’t talk about our fried chicken without talking about what goes next to it, and this sauce is the one that turned every plate into a sermon. If that professor wants a primary source, here it is—sweet, smoky, and straight from Cascade Heights.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 8 (about 2 cups)

Ingredients

1 cup ketchup
1/3 cup honey
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
1 tablespoon unsalted butter

Instructions

Combine the base. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, whisk together the ketchup, honey, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar, and Worcestershire sauce until smooth.
Season it right. Stir in the Dijon mustard, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, black pepper, and cayenne pepper if using.
Simmer low and slow. Bring the mixture to a gentle simmer, then reduce heat to medium-low. Cook for 15–20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has thickened slightly and the flavors have melded together.
Finish with butter. Remove from heat and stir in the butter until fully melted and incorporated. This gives the sauce a glossy finish and rounds out the tang.
Cool and serve. Let the sauce cool for 10 minutes before serving alongside fried chicken, ribs, or anything that needs a little sweetness and smoke. Store in an airtight jar in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.

Nutrition (per serving)

Honey Barbecue Sauce — The One Mama Would Have Told That Professor About