I want to be known for two things in life. I want to be known as the girl who has the dad who makes the best Sweet Potato Pie… and I want to be known as the girl who lives in the house that always smells like roasted chicken and sweets.
There’s something about a bowl of food that feels more sustaining, more comforting, more sincere than a flat ol’ plate of food.
We’ve got a lot of energy to direct these days. It’s like a symphony of wrapping presents, hanging holiday decorations, keeping your cat from dangling from all of the hanging holiday decorations (personal problem), gathering, inviting, baking, potlucking… this time of year is ample in its commitments and enjoyment, really. I have a proposal.
Hello my friends! This week in the life of Joy the Baker: I learned that homemade eggnog is essentially chilled ice cream base with rum and nutmeg and if someone would have told me that unchurned ice cream was acceptable to drink a long time ago, I’d be in a heap of trouble. Homemade eggnog recipe coming up soon.
What I was trying to do was solve a problem. It’s December, you can guess the problem. The… I Have To Go To A Holiday Thing With An Edible Thing Problem.
Hello friends! Welcome back to the Bakehouse! Ooooh boy we’re talking about Brunch. It seems only fitting to make the meal of my dreams in the kitchen of my dreams.
Welcome to the time of year when impromptu gatherings have an added warmth (hopefully from a frosty Brandy Milk Punch), an added twinkle (from a well-adorned Christmas tree), and that extra bit of cheer and love.
This past weekend I decorated my first tree, in my frist house, just a few days after hosting my first Thanksgiving around my first official dining room table.
It’s like… you know leftover mashed potatoes are better re-heated, but still somehow you scoop them out of the refrigerator with a spoon (or your fingers).
My first kitchen was pea green. Not the pea green you’re thinking. The sort of pea green only achieved by soup-ing peas.
A lifetime ago I worked at a coffee shop in sunny Burbank, California. It was a tiny, one-barista-type coffee shop where the morning coffee maker decided on the brew, decided on the signage, set the baked goods out in the morning, and knew just about every person that came in the door.
Hello friends. Another week creeping closer to the holiday season. Are you feeling it in the air? I am… mostly because there was no fresh rosemary at the grocery store this morning.
I think we all started to like brussels sprouts A LOT more when once we discovered we could hard sear them in butter with bacon… or add so much cheese to them that you’re not sure if your vegetable is vegetable or nacho.
The Internet needs another recipe for mashed potatoes like it needs another recipe for Chocolate Chip Cookies / another hole in the head.
Honestly, I haven’t wanted to write this post. But here we are. And we’re fine, and the coffee is hot, and sugared and creamed… the toast has extra avocado and spice and alright… here are some thoughts: • This is real and true and has changed my stressy-anxieties for the past few years… if I can just remember to do it when I need it most.
Just when I think I know a thing or two about New Orleans food culture, I dig up another layer, more nuance, and another story of culture, history, and humanity.
Hello my friends! Happy Sunday. You are a gemstone and I’m so glad you’re here. A few things happened for me this week.
This month marks the time of year when questions like, “What are you doing for the holidays” need to be answered with actual thoughts and plans.
Ina knows. It seems like Ina Garten knows just about everything she needs to know. You never look at an Ina Garten recipe and doubt her.
I’ve been wearing the same pair of jeans for the past week +, so for Halloween I’m thinking of dressing up in… not those jeans.