Big Apple Blues: Greg Tate on the Art of Lockdown and Days of Rage

The four of us began quarantine in mid-March with, appropriately enough, a “Last Supper” against the backdrop of a balmy, preternaturally quiet, and already desolate central Harlem night. The worthy constituents were myself and three of my besties: BG and HK, two academics who are also curators, and our host, the doyenne TC, a movie producer who has worked many years with various legendary Black indie filmmakers.
TC and BG are both serious foodies and spectacular cooks; HK and I are