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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, 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...
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,...
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...