Jul 16, 2026 · 36 min · 16 segments
AJC Flagship is your front-row seat to the Substance and Soul of the South. Each week, this show brings you a mix of what makes The Atlanta Journal-Constitution special. Here, the stories have a…
Carrie TeagardenGuest
Buddy ReddGuest
Monte Carlo
A.J. WillinghamHost
Greg Blustein
Nasha ParkerPanelistAJC ReporterPanelistAJC ReporterPanelist
Tamar HallermanHost
For Monte Carlo, AJC's senior editor of food and dining, this dreamy dessert represents a quiet labor of love.
I'm Monte Carlo, the senior food editor for food and dining at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
I still catch myself leaving it open, this small pocket of space where he slurped homemade chicken noodle soup and balanced fresh-baked brownies on napkins, his eyes glued to the TV.
It's where he wiped his hands on the cushions as I blurted, hey, use a napkin.
My eyes still wonder to his spot when I laugh at a show I'm watching, remembering the way that his body would lean over to cackle when a joke landed just right.
The kitchen smelled like butter and warm sugar, floral and soft, the kind of smell that makes you pause and take deep gulping breaths.
I asked if he wanted a slice and he said yes with the enthusiasm of a teenage boy who was always just shy of starving.
The kind of moment that you assume will be followed by thousands more just like it.
I was confused when he reached into his backpack and pulled out a big blue Ikea bag and started packing his things, clothes, some video games, a worn copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein, the one I used to read to him when he was little, struggling to keep my eyes open while pretending I was putting him to bed.
It was seeing that book land in that blue bag that made me realize this wasn't my son's weekly ritual of getting a few things together to take to his dad's house.
But I'll never forget when he told me that he wanted to live full time with his dad.
For Monte Carlo, AJC's senior editor of food and dining, this dreamy dessert represents a quiet labor of love.
I'm Monte Carlo, the senior food editor for food and dining at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
I still catch myself leaving it open, this small pocket of space where he slurped homemade chicken noodle soup and balanced fresh-baked brownies on napkins, his eyes glued to the TV.
It's where he wiped his hands on the cushions as I blurted, hey, use a napkin.
My eyes still wonder to his spot when I laugh at a show I'm watching, remembering the way that his body would lean over to cackle when a joke landed just right.
The kitchen smelled like butter and warm sugar, floral and soft, the kind of smell that makes you pause and take deep gulping breaths.
I asked if he wanted a slice and he said yes with the enthusiasm of a teenage boy who was always just shy of starving.
The kind of moment that you assume will be followed by thousands more just like it.
I was confused when he reached into his backpack and pulled out a big blue Ikea bag and started packing his things, clothes, some video games, a worn copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein, the one I used to read to him when he was little, struggling to keep my eyes open while pretending I was putting him to bed.
It was seeing that book land in that blue bag that made me realize this wasn't my son's weekly ritual of getting a few things together to take to his dad's house.
But I'll never forget when he told me that he wanted to live full time with his dad.
The rest of this transcript — segmented and speaker-labeled, so you land on the exact moment something was said
Search every transcript — by keyword, by phrase, or by meaning, across every show Radar indexes
Trends — what is surging across podcasts, measured against its own baseline
Alerts — when a name you follow appears in a newly indexed episode
No account is needed to search Radar.
