FATHER / SON

Intense conversation at a party at my dad’s house in 2008; Mom is at left.

If I had known that I was face to face with a bowl of Yemenite curry soup, I might never have taken that first spoonful. But there was something intoxicating about the steaming broth that lowered my defenses and drew me in. I can still taste it. The warmth of the black pepper. The way the potatoes soaked up the beef fat and turned a neon orange from the turmeric,