Jezebel Sauce -- The Sweet Heat We Set on the Table When Words Ran Out

Carrie arrived on Wednesday. She flew from Fukuoka to Tokyo to Atlanta to Charleston, thirty-six hours of travel that compressed the Pacific and the continent into a single transit, and the transit was the love, and the love was the arriving, and the arriving was Carrie in the kitchen, holding Mama's hand, saying "I'm here, Grandma" in a voice that was steady and broken and both at once.

Mama's hand squeezed when Carrie took it. The squeeze was the recognition — not of the name, not of the face, but of the warmth, of the presence, of the particular quality of a granddaughter's hand that the body knows even when the mind does not. Carrie held the squeeze and wept, and the weeping was silent, and the silence was the new language, and the language was sufficient.

The house is full: James and Elise from Columbia, Carrie from Fukuoka, Robert in the workshop building nothing (just being in the workshop because the workshop is his place and the place is the being), Ruth and Gloria maintaining the shifts, me in the kitchen where I have always been, making the food that no one is hungry for but that must be made because the making is the structure and the structure is the thing that holds the household upright when everything else is collapsing.

Mama is peaceful. The peace is visible — in her face, in her hands, in the particular stillness of a woman who has arrived at the end of something and who is not afraid of the arriving, because the arriving is the journey's purpose, and the journey has been long, and the purpose is rest.

I made shrimp and grits for the household — the dish that feeds everyone, the dish that says "we are here, together, in this kitchen, at this table, and the together is the meal." No one ate much. Everyone ate enough. And the enough was the dinner.

I always keep a jar of Jezebel Sauce in the back of the refrigerator — it’s the sauce my mother taught me, the one that appears whenever the family is all under one roof and the table needs something that says home without saying anything at all. That night, with the shrimp and grits steaming and the house full of people holding their grief quietly, I set it out alongside everything else, and it was the right thing: sweet and sharp and a little surprising, just like the love that had brought us all there.

Jezebel Sauce

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 16 (about 2 cups)

Ingredients

• 1 jar (18 oz) pineapple preserves
• 1 jar (18 oz) apple jelly
• 1 jar (5 oz) prepared horseradish, drained
• 1 can (1.12 oz) dry mustard powder
• 1 teaspoon cracked black pepper
• Pinch of kosher salt

Instructions

1. Combine. In a medium bowl, stir together the pineapple preserves and apple jelly until combined.
2. Add heat. Stir in the drained horseradish, dry mustard powder, black pepper, and salt until fully incorporated and the sauce is smooth.
3. Taste and adjust. Taste the sauce and adjust horseradish or mustard to your heat preference — it should have a noticeable sweet-sharp bite.
4. Chill. Transfer to a sealed jar or container and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving to let the flavors meld. The sauce keeps refrigerated for up to 3 weeks.
5. Serve. Spoon over cream cheese with crackers, alongside shrimp and grits, with ham or pork tenderloin, or as a condiment at any Southern table that needs a little something extra.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 110 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 55mg