When I was little, my brothers and sisters and I went to a small Catholic school, and at the start of summer, we’d have a carnival—we called it a fiesta—and everyone would line up at the Filipino BBQ stall and then wander around tearing meat off the skewers with their teeth. My parents volunteered at the Italian sausage booth, and because we were friends with the people cooking the BBQ, we got to bypass the line by surreptitiously trading sausages for skewers: the magic of the