They Tried To Throw Me Out Of My Own Restaurant Until The Chef Stepped In

pages, a single laurel branch embossed on the cover. On the first page I had written my mother’s crawfish étouffée recipe in a careful hand that took me four tries to approximate, because Lorraine Carter’s handwriting had a specific slant, a leftward lean, like every letter was reaching for something behind it.

Sutton looked at it.

“You got me a notebook?continue reading …