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Hello there Reader, Thanksgiving doesn't have to leave you cursing like a sailor. (Although, if you ever heard Mama Leite muttering in Portuguese while wrestling a 22-pound turkey into submission, you might think otherwise.) As someone who's hosted more holiday dinners than my youthful countenance would suggest―some of which ended with me hiding in the basement, clutching a bottle of wine, and questioning my life choices―I've learned a thing or two about keeping my sanity intact. The One will back me up on this, especially after That One Year We Shall Never Speak Of Again when I nearly burned down the house. But I digress. What I've learned is mastering Thanksgiving is all about strategy. And, unlike how I usually cook―which The One likens to a tornado in an apron―this requires that dreaded word: planning. Allow me to share with you my hard-won five-day plan that'll keep you from ending up in the fetal position behind the washing machine. (Not that I know anything about that.) My Free Foolproof Five-Day Countdown
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Hi Reader, There are two kinds of people during apple season.One kind comes home from the orchard with a sensible five-pound bag.And the other staggers through the front door looking like a contestant in an apple-smuggling competition.Guess which one I am?Every year, I swear I'll exercise restraint. I'll buy just enough for a pie and maybe a snack. Then I spot a Honeycrisp the size of a softball. Next thing I know, I'm hauling home enough fruit to keep a cider mill in business.Apples are...
Hi Reader, I have a theory.Labor Day is the last Monday of the year that isn't really a Monday.Tomorrow the schedule comes back. The calls, the deadlines, and the emails I have not been answering since Friday. And with it, the question I'll be answering every single evening until roughly June: What on earth am I making for dinner?Not every dinner needs to be a mic drop.Some of the best dinners in this house have started with an open pantry door. A box of pasta, a can of tuna, and the words...
Hi Reader, Somewhere in the first cool week, I realize I've been cheating on vegetables all summer.Don't get me wrong. I adore tomatoes still warm from the vine, sweet corn dripping with butter, and zucchini that somehow keeps multiplying when you're not looking. But then the first cool evening arrives, I turn the oven back on, and suddenly I'm head over heels for brassicas again.Brussels sprouts. Broccolini. Cauliflower. Cabbage.Poor things. They spent decades in boiling water. Entire...