Hi Reader, Every March, I feel the same creeping pressure: the world goes emerald overnight, and suddenly I’m expected to be half-Irish, fluent in jig, and able to turn every dish a festive shade of green. Meanwhile, my actual Irish experience begins and ends with a wool sweater that makes me itch and an ill-fated attempt at Irish soda bread that could’ve been used as a doorstop.Still, there’s something irresistible about the promise of St. Patrick’s week—that blend of comfort, carbs, and a...
3 days ago • 2 min read
Hi Reader, Let me make a confession that’ll surprise no one who knows me: I am a bit of a coffee snob. Not in the “grind-your-own-beans-with-a-burr-mill-from-Oslo” kind of way (though, fine, I own one of those). No, my particular brand of snobbery shows up when I have nothing to go with it. A naked cup of coffee feels… indecent. Like showing up to Mass without your Sunday shoes.So now, every week, I play matchmaker. There’s the cinnamon streusel coffee cake that’s all tender crumb and brown...
5 days ago • 2 min read
Hi Reader, This time of year always feels like a culinary identity crisis. One day I’m craving stew thick enough to stand a spoon in, the next I’m eyeing asparagus like it’s the Second Coming. Late February is the shoulder season of appetites—half wool sweater, half linen napkin. Even The One gets confused. “Soup or salad?” he’ll ask, holding both bowls like a game show host. The answer, of course, is yes.I’ve learned to treat this moment not as confusion but as opportunity. It’s when I start...
7 days ago • 3 min read
Join My Free Substack Live, 8PM ET Hey Reader, I’m going live on Substack tonight at 8 PM ET, and I’d love to see you there! This is only my third one in about a year, so it’s a rare treat to hang out with all of you in real-time. ☞ JOIN ME @ 8PM I’ve got a lot to share, including: A first look at several upcoming cookbooks I have advance copies of—I want to make sure these are on your radar! We’ll also be diving deep into St. Patrick’s Day prep. I’m talking about my favorite recipes and,...
9 days ago • 1 min read
Hi Reader, In our home, frying is less about food and more about ceremony. It starts with the sizzle—that anticipatory crackle that makes everyone within sniffing distance wander into the kitchen “just to check.” The One pretends he’s concerned about the mess, but the moment that first golden something hits the paper towel, he’s hovering with a fork like a hawk in bifocals.Growing up, fried food was both my grandmothers' love language. Vovo Leite could turn a humble piece of food into a...
13 days ago • 3 min read
Hi Reader, Every winter, I find myself measuring the season not by the temperature but by the smell of what’s baking. When I catch that first whiff of butter caramelizing at the oven’s edge or cinnamon coaxng me from my desk, I know I’ve found my purpose for the day. The One calls it “productive procrastination,” but I call it therapy... with snacks.There’s something almost holy about standing in a warm kitchen while the world outside skulks around in 50 shades of gray and sadness. Mixing,...
14 days ago • 5 min read
Hi Reader, There was a stretch of time—somewhere between deadlines, travel, and my noble attempt at Pilates—when 6 p.m. hit like a betrayal. Dinner? Again? Didn’t we just do this yesterday? That’s when I learned the art of the preemptive strike: a little chopping here, a sauce made there, something marinating while I’m answering emails and pretending not to snack.Now, I treat weeknight dinners like a magic trick. The One walks in, the house smells like I’ve been cooking for hours, and all I...
17 days ago • 2 min read
Hi Reader, After Valentine’s Day, I crave the antidote to all that candlelit, two-fork intimacy: a noisy, elbows-on-the-table, gravy-splashing family meal. The kind where you can’t hear yourself over the chorus of “pass the potatoes,” and someone inevitably uses a dinner roll as a pointer during an argument about politics or football—or both.When I was growing up, those family-style feasts were the great equalizer. You could show up grumpy, triumphant, or in full teenage angst, but once the...
19 days ago • 2 min read
Hi Reader, When I was a kid, the days before Lent were treated like a culinary Olympics in our house. My mother would declare, “We’re cleaning out the freezer,” which translated to every cut of meat known to man sizzling, braising, or roasting at once. The kitchen looked like a Renaissance banquet—steam clouding the windows, the table groaning, me stationed nearby with a dinner roll in each hand like a linebacker ready to carb-load for Jesus.Even now—decades after Papa and Mama Leite went...
21 days ago • 2 min read
