Good morning. Happy Canada Day, to those celebrating. In the United States, we’re barreling into the Fourth of July, which will be a strange one this year, no doubt. We’re sick of fireworks, most of us; many can’t gather closely because of the coronavirus; and we’re all in the midst of a difficult, painful reckoning over the history and present of our nation I’d get it if you spent the Friday holiday tucked up in bed under a fan, reading mysteries and fighting off panic attacks.
But give Melissa Clark a chance to persuade you to do otherwise. She has a terrific column leading the newspaper Food section we delivered to readers this morning, all about how to gather outside and cook and eat with friends right now, and how joyous it can be to do so — so long as you’re super, super careful.
“Our goals were to be as careful as we could, given our knowledge of the virus,” Melissa wrote, “and to use the comfort threshold of the most anxious person in the group as our guide. Because while pandemic etiquette was new to all of us, making guests feel at ease and welcome in our home is not.”
That’s so smart. As are her new recipes for the day: for gingery chicken thighs with charred peaches (above), served directly from the grill; grilled corn with jalapeño feta butter, likewise; and individual ramekins of no-bake butterscotch custard for dessert. I think those could make for a very nice holiday meal, even if it’s just for your family and eaten in the living room while you watch “Uncut Gems” together as an exercise in anxiety management.
Let’s read Lucille Clifton’s “Poem to My Yellow Coat,” in The Paris Review.
Finally, to return to the beginning, let’s jump into the wayback machine and fish up a wonderfully diverting novel. Here’s John Ball’s “In the Heat of the Night,” the original Virgil Tibbs mystery, from 1965. I’ll be back on Friday.
