Travel Days, Tailgates, and Tight Circles: Family Reunion, Day 1
A collective pulse in the culinary world that celebrates legacy, craft, and community.
Today was a travel day. And if you’ve ever worked events, you know there’s a certain rhythm to those: long before the sun even thinks about rising, your boots are moving, your bags are packed, and your body’s half on autopilot. But despite the grind, today was different because today marked the start of something worth all the movement.
The day started, as many do, at Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta. The flight was slightly delayed, one of the attendants had forgotten her device on the shuttle, and TSA had to sort it out. But here’s the thing: when you travel as much as I do, you learn to let those moments roll off your back. Delays happen. People forget. Security drags. But the world keeps spinning, and we still take off eventually. After landing in D.C., I was greeted by Francois, my driver. And as is tradition at this point, the car ride turned into a rolling conversation. I’ve always enjoyed the backseat banter, the offhand food opinions, the unexpected music takes, the favorite teams or books or memories that surface in those short trips. This time, Francois admitted he doesn’t feel confident cooking steaks.
Naturally, I offered up a few pointers: dual-zone cooking, mastering heat control, letting the meat rest right. It wasn’t a seminar, just a quick conversation between two people trying to share and grow. Before I knew it, we were bonding over our mutual love for BigXthaPlug, his flow, his vocal tone, the way he hits you with bars and bass in equal measure. These are the kinds of human moments that anchor a day. Pulling up to Salamander, the reunion began even before I got inside. The resort attendant opened my door, and who’s stepping out but Pops, Kevin Bludso himself. We locked eyes, cracked smiles, and stepped into a hug, followed immediately by wisecracks. That’s the rhythm of our relationship. I hadn’t seen him since his birthday earlier this year, but we talk almost daily, so nothing ever really feels like catching up; it just feels like a continuation.
We grabbed a bite at a local Thai spot. Nothing fancy, a few tweaks needed here and there, but it was satisfying enough. The kind of meal that doesn’t blow you away but fills you just right because the company’s solid. After that, Pops headed back to rest, and I turned toward work. See, with events this size, you don’t always get ingredients on your timeline. Shipments arrive in waves, cuts come staggered, and plans shift. You have to be adaptable. Fortunately, I had backup. Erica Blue Smoke Blair, my BBQ sister, better known as Blue Smoke Blair, rolled in as my sous chef. Together, we knocked out brisket prep fast and clean.
The dish I’m serving this weekend? Jerk chopped brisket with smoked mango coleslaw on a smoked tall crostini. It’s a bite with balance, fire, sweetness, crunch, and depth. And it’s one of those dishes where you feel joy in the making. That’s the point. We weren’t just trimming fat and seasoning meat, we were laying the foundation for stories yet to be served. After prep, we made our way to the bar where Pops and Kalin were already posted up. We laid out the game plan for the weekend, clinked a few glasses, swapped a few stories, and filled the air with laughter.
That’s what these events are really about. Yes, we’re here to cook. Yes, we’re here to serve. But more than anything, we’re here to gather, to remember why we love this, why we keep doing this, and who we’re doing it for.
Family Reunion isn’t just a clever name. It’s a mission. A reset. A reminder that no matter how far we travel, the fire always calls us back to each other.