Well, this one simply didn’t turn out is what I’ll say first.
You make this cake when it’s been overcast for four days and you’ve pulled another sweater out of storage for the week ahead. When it’s unseasonably gray, and you’re unseasonably gray, and if the weather calls for fall, why not summon a bit of cinnamon spirit?
This is the cake you bake for your kids’ uncle. The one who’s not technically blood, but definitely brother. The one who never skips the occasion to send a handwritten letter from miles away, who shows up on Christmas morning with a cardboard box bigger than your car. He who cheers on every loose tooth,
As it stands, I’m not much for honey. But you know what I am one for? Honey-whipped cream, in a cold metal bowl fresh for the whisking. Taking turns getting elbow cramps with a daughter, both faux-complaining, knowing all the well we’re better for the wait.
This is the story of a girl who was hungry.
I used to white-knuckle my way through the holiday season. The calendar sometimes felt too thick to navigate, barely enough white space to catch a breath between out-of-town guests, Christmas programs, your fourth batch of gingerbread for Aunt Margaret’s cookie exchange. For a gal prone to quiet and space, the bustle of holidays have often
You can tell I’m in a cooking rut if you visit my kitchen at 5pm on any given weekday and find us all dining on salami and apples, a handful of walnuts straight from the bag. It’s my unofficial back-up meal, swooping in to save the eve for my other unofficial back-up meal (breakfast for
If we’re paying attention long enough, and if our ears are bent low enough, it’s easy to find the magic in summer. The smallest caterpillar gliding effortlessly on the shivering edge of a paper thin leaf. The cool shock of a juicy watermelon, pink swimming down your chin, your elbows, a seed to spit into