Hi Reader, The windows were fogged, the air thick with the smell of onions and olive oil, when The One wandered into the kitchen and said, “Did you set off the smoke alarm again, or are we having soup?”“Caldo,” I corrected, because some habits are eternal.There’s something nearly spiritual about stirring a pot of soup in January. Maybe it’s the quiet choreography of it—the slice, the sizzle, the slow surrender of vegetables into something far greater than themselves. Or maybe it’s just the...
4 days ago • 2 min read
Hi Reader, The idea hit me somewhere between a second cup of coffee and a mild identity crisis: I was going to start baking bread again.The One looked up from the crossword, sighed, and said, “Do I need to clear counter space or buy fire insurance?”Fair question. My early attempts could’ve doubled as medieval weaponry. There was one loaf that clanged when it hit the cutting board.But that’s the thing about bread—it forgives. It’s a slow teacher, a quiet companion that rewards patience more...
6 days ago • 3 min read
Hi [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], Every January, I find myself in a sort of culinary limbo—caught between the glittering madness of the holidays and the quiet murmur of a new year. The fridge looks like it’s survived a small war: a spoonful of cranberry sauce, a nub of cheese that could qualify as a fossil, and a wilted sprig of rosemary that’s seen better days.That’s when The One wanders in, holding a mug of coffee and arching an eyebrow. “You’re reorganizing your life again, aren’t you?” he says,...
8 days ago • 3 min read
Hi [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], When I think about the past year in food, I don’t look at trends or analytics dashboards—I look at you. What you cooked. What you clicked. What you rated with five stars and a “David, this recipe saved my life” message.And let me tell you: this year, you had opinions. Glorious, passionate, fork-wielding opinions. Some recipes shot straight to the top so fast I wondered if you were all texting each other behind my back. Others quietly climbed the charts week after...
11 days ago • 3 min read
Hi [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], New Year’s Eve has always amused me. It’s the one night we collectively pretend we’re the kind of people who waltz into parties wearing something sparkly, carrying flawless canapés, and greeting everyone like we’re hosting the Oscars. Meanwhile, I’m in the kitchen debating whether I have the emotional bandwidth to iron a napkin.But I love this night. It’s theatrical. It’s indulgent. It’s forgiving. You can get away with almost anything as long as it’s bite-sized and...
13 days ago • 2 min read
Hi [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], Holiday hosting has a way of testing your reflexes. One minute you’re blissfully sinking into the sofa, polishing off the last of the peppermint bark, and the next you hear the four most adrenaline-spiking words in the English language: “We’re stopping by...soon!”Instantly, I snap into action like a short-order cook with a minor superiority complex. The fridge door swings open, the mental math begins mathing, and suddenly I’m transforming stray cheeses, that...
15 days ago • 2 min read
Hi [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], I don’t know when it happened - maybe somewhere between my third failed attempt at wrapping gifts and the moment The One caught me eating sliced cheese straight from the wrapper - but every year, right around this time, my body reaches a spiritual truth: it is officially sandwich season.There’s something about the tail end of December that flips a switch in me. Maybe it’s the collective exhaustion of a month spent roasting, braising, whisking, icing, mulled-wining,...
18 days ago • 3 min read
Hi [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], I’ve learned—through trial, error, and one unfortunate carving me meltdown in front of guests—that the key to holiday sanity is doing as much as possible before anyone shows up. There’s a special kind of joy in sliding a perfectly prepped dish into the oven while your guests think you’re some kind of culinary savant. (Let them believe. You’ve earned it.)The One always rolls his eyes when he sees me whisking gravy at 10 p.m. the night before a dinner. “Can’t this...
20 days ago • 2 min read
Hi [FIRST NAME GOES HERE], Before the glorious chaos of unwrapping presents, before the calls from relatives who still can’t figure out FaceTime, there’s that rare, golden hour—the hush of a winter morning when coffee burbles, the oven hums, and you can almost believe time’s agreed to stand still.I live for that hour. It’s when The One pads into the kitchen, what little hair he has sticking up like he lost a bar fight with a pillow, and I slide a pan of something sweet into the oven—baked...
22 days ago • 3 min read
