Homecoming doesn’t just live on the calendar—it lives in the senses.
To this day, I can close my eyes and smell it: the sweet smoke from somebody grilling turkey legs behind the stadium, the hairspray holding up a good roller set, and somebody’s auntie’s pound cake wrapped in foil and pride.
At Zora’s Sweet Tooth, we bake memories like that into every slice. Because for so many of us, HBCU Homecoming was our first taste of communal Black joy as adults. Not just watching the band and strolling the yard—but seeing folks be free, be loud, and be celebrated.
It’s the sounds of the marching band warming up in the background. The taste of honey butter and cinnamon in the air. The feeling of hugging cousins you only see once a year, but love like they live next door.
This week, we’re baking for that version of you—the one who knew they were fly even when your shoes hurt. Who wore that school sweatshirt like armor. Who made a plate, took another to-go, and danced anyway.
If you’ve never been to an HBCU homecoming, I hope this makes you feel like you have.
Call-to-Action:
Play a little Frankie Beverly, light a fall candle, and bring homecoming to your kitchen.
Bonus Affirmation:
“I carry joy that generations dreamed of.”