A good friend confesses when you have broccoli in your teeth.
A great friend will pick you up from the airport, maybe even help with your cumbersome luggage.
But only a really spectacular friend puts up with your baking obsessions, willingly sampling all your edible projects even though this means submitting themselves to your intense, overly-eager staring and insanely specific questions while they attempt to innocently enjoy a cookie.
“Is it too crispy? Not crispy enough? Too crumbly? I used only one egg; maybe they would be better with two, or perhaps it’s because I used all-natural peanut butter as…
Is there anything more comforting than a warm muffin?
Okay, yes: there are melty, gooey chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven; plush, decadent weekday pancakes swimming in hot butter and rich maple syrup; soul-soothing peanut butter treats that is Mr. Darcy to my Elizabeth Bennet; not to mention those steaming mugs of soup that seem to bypass the stomach entirely and go straight from the spoon to your heart.
Yet despite the wealth of cozy, hand- and heart-warming recipes out there, I can’t help but find something deeply satisfying in the humble simplicity of a good muffin.
I hope that the inspiration for this post will be sufficient explanation for its rather tardy nature; though I know nobody is keeping track, I try to post at least once a week but have rather let the past month get the better of me.
Historically, I have not always been the best at maintaining a healthy work-life balance or prioritizing the self-care for which my beloved Fab Five are always so positively advocating.
Not everyone is a morning person.
Unfortunately for those people, I am comically attuned to the dawn, while 9 PM might as well be temporal kryptonite. “Why should that affect other people?” you might be rightfully wondering.
I am frightfully forgetful of the fact that I am an early riser. This means that if I see something amusing and worth sharing on my walk to the gym, I innocently think, “Ha! I should tell Scott about that funny bird, he’ll be delighted!” …
People need Saturdays.
I’m not saying we should “live for the weekend” or anything drastic; I’ll be the first to admit relishing in a quiet Thursday evening spent on the couch with a good book and a mug of hot tea, but people need Saturdays.
And Saturday doesn’t even have to be on Saturday.
Let me explain.
For the past two years, with only a very rare exception, I have worked every Saturday and Sunday. Wednesdays are my day off.
At first, Wednesdays still felt like Wednesdays. But over time, Tuesdays morphed into a privately indulgent Friday — not a…
I remember seeing a little mirrored sign once at an antique shop that read:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Oh no —
I am my mother after all!
It made me chuckle at the time, and even now, I feel the truth of that sentiment whenever I hear myself espouse one of my mother’s axioms. “A place for everything and everything in its place” is a housekeeping rule that continues to serve me well, while “getting our steps in” is now unfortunately equally well-known by my friends, who have come to tolerate my unwillingness to parallel park with good humor.
I am not a particularly competitive person, at least not in the traditional sense. I like to do well but don’t see why my success has to come at the cost of another person’s, and vice versa. Once, after my friend’s favorite team lost the Super Bowl, I had the naïve audacity to say, “Well, at least the other team will be happy!” His disgust confirmed my suspicions: I do not understand football.
That being said, I am a bit of a people pleaser, so when someone says, “You should…” something not unlike competitive fervor starts to flutter in my…
There has been altogether too much goodness going around recently. (Bet you didn’t expect to hear that in 2021, did you?)
But last night, when my friend asked me what my perfect “self-care day” would look like, I realized it wouldn’t end in a recipe that cares for my body but rather one that satisfies my soul.
Though that may sound dramatic, comfort food is fulfilling in a way that goes beyond the…
As we have already established, food can be transportive.
A chilled piña colada can return us to our honeymoon, while chocolate cake makes children of us all — greedy and eager in that way only precocious five-year-olds can get away with and still be called charming. With one humble mug of strong coffee (generously splashed with cream and sugar because you’re seventeen and just getting used to the bitter flavor), your kitchen becomes a midnight diner on your first cross-country road trip, cicada song filling the starry sky waiting patiently beyond your booth.
Today’s recipe is not one of those…
I love a good themed bake.
Like wine pairing, there’s something so sophisticated-feeling about choosing a dessert that compliments your dinner. A slice of decadent tiramisu after ragù alla bolognese, tres leches cake for taco night or to follow enchiladas, and who can resist a delicate crème brûlée after a rustic ratatouille?
That said, sometimes you just want cake, sophistication or no. Today is one of those days.
Fully embracing the dichotomy of sharing this tropical treat as I head out for a snowy outdoor adventure, I can promise you one thing: whether you’re eating this on the beach under…
Pursuing the simple joys of butter, flour, and eggs, 52 weeks a year.