Somebody always asks. You're at a potluck, or somebody's back porch after a funeral, or the church basement after a wedding, and there's a dish on the table that stops people mid-conversation. A casserole, a pot roast that fell apart just right, somebody's aunt's cobbler that shows up at every single family gathering without fail. And the question that comes next isn't about anything else going on in the world. It's just: who made this, and how.