“I remember summertime days in Alabama, being little, watching Big Ma sit at a round, low-rise, wooden table with her sister, the both of them talking mess while they prepped a bowl of okra for frying. She’d cut the tops off the raw okra by just holding one in her hands, pressing her thumb against the top and cutting up against her thumb with a paring knife, as if her thumb were a cutting board. I’d think about how thick her skin must’ve been for it to be able to come up against the edge of a blade without getting sliced open. Then I’d watch her as she’d bread and fry her okra to mask the sliminess from the starch inside. I’ve found that pairing it with something equally as gooey, like melted cheese, makes the texture just as easy to swallow.” — Jerrelle Guy

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