"If you're dreaming, don't wake up," Big Mac grunts, staring at the searing meat with pure reverence. "Zara, I will be your devoted slave forever if you give me the first piece of that crackling."
"Hands off until four o'clock," I say as I pour a whole pitcher of dark lager into the pot to deglaze the bottom. The liquid violently bubbles, releasing a fragrant wave of sweet malt and roasted spice. “Not one minute before."
"I'll guard the perimeter," Brick declares, pulling a tall wooden stool right up to the double doors and crossing his massive arms over his cut. "Nobody gets in without Zara’s say-so.”
By three o’clock, the entire clubhouse has transformed. The smell of slow-braising pork, roasted garlic, and caramelizing onions has seeped into the very drywall of the building. It rolls
