All Posts By Jennifer

Let me share a little secret from all my years of cooking for kids, a husband, and whatever extra bodies happen to be around the table: some foods just don’t give a hoot whether you eat them hot or straight from the fridge. And I don’t just mean they’re fine either way—I mean they’re downright delicious both ways. I’m talking about those magical foods that are just as satisfying when you’re serving them fresh out of the oven as when you’re sneaking a bite cold from the fridge at midnight (in fuzzy socks, if you’re anything like me). You know …

Now, before you think I’m about to spark a kitchen controversy—let’s talk tomato soup, shall we? Oh, does this one get folks fired up. There are die-hard Campbell’s fans (it’s practically a rite of passage, isn’t it?), and then you’ve got the home cooks who wouldn’t dare ladle out soup that hasn’t simmered for at least an hour, plump tomatoes and garden-fresh basil included. And to be perfectly honest? I’ve lived in both worlds. (Both aprons fit, if you know what I mean!) So if you’ve ever found yourself standing in your kitchen, torn between that trusty can opener and …

We’re always told not to burn the food, right? There’s this pressure to get it just right—perfectly golden brown, with just a hint of crisp and not a spot of black. But can I let you in on a little secret? Sometimes, the real magic in the kitchen happens when things get a little too much sun (or sizzle, as it were). You know exactly what I mean. Remember that marshmallow you roasted a teeny bit too long over the fire, or that crispy bit of cheese that slipped out of your grilled cheese and turned into a golden treasure …

Let’s be honest here—scrambled eggs really ought to be the easiest thing in the world to make. Crack a few eggs, turn on the heat, give ‘em a good stir, and dig in. Right? You’d certainly think so, until you’re standing at the stove on a sleepy Sunday and suddenly it turns into World War III over whether milk has any business being in your eggs. Maybe it’s your fiercely opinionated mother-in-law (oh, I’ve been there!) steadfastly pouring in the milk, while you’re quietly seething, spoon in hand, ready to fight for egg purity. Just like that, what should’ve been …

Let me tell you something—if cooking spaghetti were a sport, I think I’d qualify for a medal by now. Whether it was those sweet nights as a kid twirling buttered noodles with a sprinkle of parmesan from—you know the one—the green can, or simmering a big Sunday sauce that perfumes the whole house, pasta’s been there for all my seasons. So, you can probably picture my face the day my uncle pulled a little stunt that nearly made me drop my trusty wooden spoon right onto the kitchen floor. He rinsed the spaghetti. Cold water, right into the colander—right after …

Okay friend, let’s just say it aloud: We’ve all had that moment. You’re elbow-deep in meatloaf—eggs, ground beef, maybe a little onion—when you glance around and realize… breadcrumbs? Not a crumb in sight. (If I had a nickel for every time…) And let’s be honest, nobody wants to jump in the minivan for a late-night grocery run just because meatloaf decided to call your bluff. But don’t you fret. I promise, meatloaf is probably the least fussy dinner you can make. It’s the kind of classic that just begs for “let’s see what we’ve got.” After a good couple decades …