Hi Reader, There are two kinds of people in this world: those who meal prep like it’s a spiritual practice and those who panic-eat hummus straight from the tub at 9 p.m. on a Tuesday. I regret to inform you I’ve been both. There was the year I decided I was “a meal prep person” and bought twelve matching glass containers for the express purpose of getting my life together, stacked them like a shrine, and announced to The One, “We’re going to live like adults.” Three days later, I was eating...
5 days ago • 3 min read
Hi Reader, January always feels longer than it has any right to be. It starts with fireworks and resolutions and ends with me clutching a mug of something hot, wondering why my socks are never fully dry. But here we are—almost through it—and that deserves a little celebration.In my family, the end of a hard month always called for something sweet. My Vovó would bake without announcement, like it was an instinctive act of optimism. No declarations, no “we survived” speeches—just a table dusted...
7 days ago • 3 min read
Hi Reader, The smoke alarm went off before the first quarter, which is how I knew the Super Bowl had officially begun. The One appeared in the doorway holding a bag of chips like a peace offering and asked, “Are we winning?”Winning. Sure—if you count surviving the chaos with snacks still edible.Super Bowl Sunday isn’t cooking; it’s crowd management. It’s about making food that tastes great an hour later, survives the occasional ref call meltdown, and doesn’t require a fork or an apology....
10 days ago • 2 min read
Hi Reader, My Vovó had a theory that the number of pots you dirtied was directly proportional to your level of foolishness. “One pan, good cook,” she’d mutter, stirring something miraculous. “Two pans, lazy mind.” I once asked her what three pans meant. She didn’t answer—just gave me a look that could curdle milk.I think of her every Monday night, when the weekend optimism has drained out of me and the sink looks like a cautionary tale. That’s when I channel her spirit: the one-pot...
12 days ago • 2 min read
Hi Reader, Sunday mornings are dangerous. Not “hold-my-beer” dangerous—more like “what-if-I-made-my-own-ketchup” dangerous.It always starts the same way: caffeine, too much of it, an overestimation of my ability. The One's usually still in bed when I announce, “I’m making something from scratch today.” He groans. He’s seen this movie before. By noon, there’ll be three pots going, one blender disassembled, and enough splattered tomato on the walls to look like a murder scene.But here’s the...
13 days ago • 3 min read
Hi Reader, Every time there’s a real winter storm—the kind with names, warnings, and that creeping sense of we might be here a while—The One makes the same thing. Blizzard Beef. No debate. No browsing. He reaches for a chuck roast like it’s a life preserver. It started years ago during a blizzard that shut everything down so thoroughly even the cats looked scared. He seasoned that roast aggressively, seared it hard, slid it into a pot with water, a reckless amount of Worcestershire sauce. I,...
14 days ago • 5 min read
Hi Reader, There are few things in life as reliable as pasta—and believe me, I’ve tested the theory.When I was younger (and delusional), I thought “weeknight dinner” meant something quick and light, like a salad or a responsible grain bowl. Then I met Wednesday. You know her—tired, cranky, wearing yesterday’s socks and whispering, “Feed me carbs or I’ll end you.”Back in the day, my mother could turn a pound of pasta and a can of tomatoes into an act of grace. The whole apartment would fill...
17 days ago • 2 min read
Hi Reader, Whenever the calendar flips to mid-January, my body stages a quiet protest. Too much cream. Too much butter. Too much “just one more slice.” I can practically hear my arteries sighing.That’s when I go coastal.Growing up, the ocean wasn’t just a backdrop—it was therapy. My family’s version of a cleanse didn’t involve green juice or kale; it was grilled sardines, lemony cod, or a bowl of seafood rice that smelled like sunlight on saltwater. Simple food that didn’t weigh you down or...
19 days ago • 3 min read
Hi Reader, I’ve never met a bad day that couldn’t be partially fixed with cheese. Flat tire? Cheese. Missed deadline? Cheese. Existential dread because it’s January and you've already broken your New Year's resolution to get in shape? Double cheese.The One likes to remind me that cheese “isn’t a food group.” Which is adorable. Because in this house, it totally is. There’s a reason refrigerators have an entire drawer dedicated to it, people! I call it the Cheese Annex. Manchego, mozzarella,...
21 days ago • 2 min read
