I’ve been to Dallas more times than I can count, but one trip still lives in me like it’s permanently etched into the heat hazed air of that day. It was out in an open field on the edge of the city, dusty grass crunching underfoot, long folding tables scattered beneath strings of glowing bulbs swaying gently in the breeze. Vendors lined the perimeter like a small, temporary village of fire and flavor, smoke curling up from grills, the scent of roasted corn, lime, and spice drifting through everything like a memory forming in real time. The sun was beginning to soften, turning the whole scene gold, as if the day itself was slowly caramelizing right along with the corn on every grill.
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