Three-Cheese Quesadillas

July in Savannah is not for the faint of heart. It is ninety-five degrees with humidity so thick you could slice it and serve it on a plate. The air doesn't move. It sits. It sits on you like a cat that has decided you are furniture and there is nothing you can do about it. I have lived through sixty-eight Savannah Julys and every single one has tried to kill me and every single one has failed because I am stubborn and hydrated and I know where the shade is.

The garden is in full production. Cherokee Purples coming off the vine heavy and warm and perfect. Okra growing so fast I swear I can hear it at night — that slight, green sound of a plant deciding it will be six inches taller by morning. The Sapelo peppers are turning red. Sixth generation. Six years of saving seeds, planting, harvesting, saving seeds again. There is something holy about a pepper that remembers where it came from.

I'm in pre-surgery mode now. Dr. Kwan's instructions: stay active but don't overdo it. Rest the knee but don't baby it. Strengthen the muscles around it. Lose five pounds if possible. I have done three of these four things. The five pounds and I have had a conversation and we have agreed to disagree. I am sixty-eight years old. I cook for a living and a hobby and a religion. The five pounds are staying.

Kayla came over Wednesday to go through the pre-op checklist. She was in nurse mode — clipboard, pen, that look she gets when she's being professional and also being your granddaughter, which is a dual role that requires tremendous skill. Blood work: done. EKG: done. Pre-surgical consult: done. Medications to stop before surgery: listed. Medications to start after: listed. Recovery supplies needed: ordered. I sat there while my granddaughter-who-is-also-a-charge-nurse reviewed my medical future with the precision of someone who does this for patients every day, and I thought: Michael, your daughter is extraordinary. She is extraordinary and you would be so proud.

Made fried green tomatoes tonight. The last green ones before they all turn. Standing at the stove — the stove I will not be able to stand at for six weeks after August 12 — frying sliced tomatoes in cornmeal in the cast iron, the oil popping, the smell of summer in a skillet. I am going to miss this stove. Six weeks is the longest I will have been away from this stove since Earl died, and that was grief. This is medicine. Both require patience. I am not good at patience.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The green tomatoes were the main event that night, but after I got them plated I still had heat in the skillet and cheese in the refrigerator and a stubborn streak about not wasting either. These Three-Cheese Quesadillas came together in the same cast iron, same oil, same summer-kitchen heat — and they are exactly the kind of thing I can leave written out for Kayla or Michael to make while I am parked on the couch doing my physical therapy exercises and pretending I am fine about it. Simple enough that the recipe fits on a notecard. Good enough that nobody complains.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

8 large flour tortillas (8-inch)
1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese
1/2 cup shredded pepper jack cheese
1/4 cup sour cream, for serving
1/4 cup salsa, for serving
2 tablespoons butter or neutral oil, divided
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Mix the cheese. In a medium bowl, combine the cheddar, Monterey Jack, and pepper jack. Season lightly with garlic powder, salt, and pepper and toss to mix evenly.
Assemble. Lay four tortillas flat on a clean surface. Distribute the cheese mixture evenly across all four, spreading it to within a half inch of the edge. Top each with a second tortilla and press gently to seat.
Heat the skillet. Set a cast iron or heavy skillet over medium heat. Add about 1/2 tablespoon of butter or oil and let it melt and spread, tilting the pan to coat.
Cook the first side. Lay one assembled quesadilla in the skillet. Cook 2 to 3 minutes until the bottom tortilla is golden and the cheese nearest the pan begins to melt. Press lightly with a spatula to encourage even browning.
Flip and finish. Carefully flip the quesadilla. Cook another 2 minutes until the second side is golden and the cheese is fully melted through. Transfer to a cutting board and tent loosely with foil to keep warm. Repeat with remaining butter and quesadillas.
Slice and serve. Cut each quesadilla into four wedges with a sharp knife or pizza wheel. Serve hot alongside sour cream and salsa.

Nutrition (per serving)

Three-Cheese Quesadillas — One Last Night at the Stove Before August 12