All Posts By Jennifer

Let me tell you something—if you’ve never had an onion fritter, the kind that crackles when it hits the hot oil and smells like Saturday night at Grandma’s house—well, you’re in for a treat. These aren’t your average onion rings or anything you’d find in a drive-thru. No ma’am. These are rustic, golden, Amish-style onion fritters, made with love, pantry staples, and a good cast-iron skillet. I first stumbled across this little gem of a recipe while flipping through an old church cookbook I found at a yard sale. You know the ones—plastic spiral binding, faded photos, lots of Jell-O …

Salty. Sweet. Buttery. Gooey. Chocolatey. Lord have mercy, y’all—these are dangerous. Okay. So here’s the truth: these little candies should come with a warning label. I’m serious. You’ll eat one and go, “Oh wow, that’s good,” and then next thing you know… the whole batch is gone. Vanished. Like they never existed. I’ve been makin’ Georgia Browns since way back—probably the first “candy” I ever tried making without help. My mama used to say, “They’re just fancy turtles with more charm,” and I think she was right. They’re easy, crowd-pleasin’, and just fancy enough to make people think you really …

Rich, savory, and ridiculously tender — this is the kind of meal that makes you want to lick the spoon and call it a day. You know how some recipes just feel like a big ol’ hug from someone who loves you? This is one of those meals. I’ve been making a version of these beef tips for years—usually on Sundays when the house is quiet, something’s bubbling away on the stove, and I’ve got time to slow down just a little. But here’s the kicker: with an Instant Pot, you don’t need all day. This recipe takes all the …

I can’t even begin to tell you how much I adore this meal. It’s one of those recipes that happened kinda by accident… one of those “hmm, what can I throw together with what’s in the fridge” situations. You know the ones. The kind that start with, “I don’t feel like making a real chicken pot pie,” but somehow still turn out better than expected? Yep—that’s this dish. I had some leftover rotisserie chicken (bless those little grocery store lifesavers), a half-bag of frozen peas and carrots, a sweet onion rolling around in the drawer, and a pack of egg …

You know what? Some flavors are just soulmates. Not dramatic, rom-com soulmates… I mean the steady kind — the “I’ve got your back on a Tuesday morning” kind. That’s cinnamon and apple. The other day, I was digging through my pantry and found the tail end of a bag of walnuts I’d meant to toss on oatmeal (which, let’s be honest, rarely happens anymore). I had one apple sitting all lonely in the fruit bowl and thought, “Well, we’ve got the start of something here.” Fifteen minutes later, this cinnamon apple cake was in the oven — and my whole …

When my kids were little, garlic bread was practically a currency in our house. If I needed them to sit still for just ten more minutes—while I wrestled with a science project volcano that wouldn’t erupt or waited out one of those silent teenage sulks that can stretch on like Lent—I could buy their patience with a warm loaf of garlic bread. It didn’t matter if it came from the freezer section wrapped in foil or was some slightly-too-browned baguette I buttered at home, the smell alone was a peace treaty. But these stuffed garlic cream cheese rolls—oh my word—those …

There are certain recipes that don’t really belong to anyone, though we all like to pretend otherwise. This Shoepeg Salad (or “shoe peg”—I’ve written it both ways, not sure which is proper) is one of those dishes that just floated through my life without much explanation. I can’t say who made it first. My mother swore it came from her neighbor back in Tulsa, but then my sister insists she saw it on a church potluck table in Mississippi in the late seventies. And me? I just know it showed up one afternoon in a Tupperware bowl on my back …

I don’t remember the exact year when I first saw people raving about Beatty’s Chocolate Cake online—it was sometime between my kids being old enough to pour their own cereal but still young enough to leave socks under the couch like confetti. I must have brushed right past it, too, because chocolate cake wasn’t really “my thing” back then. Strange, right? I was always the one who gravitated toward lemon bars or a cherry pie (my mother made the sourest cherry pies that puckered your whole face, and I miss that). But lately, maybe it’s age or just the way …

When I was a girl, my parents would sometimes drive us to Tybee Island in the evenings just to watch the shrimp boats head out. You’d see the horizon dotted with tiny lights, like fireflies dancing on the dark water, and I always imagined my father knew each captain by name. The smell of salt and diesel wasn’t pretty, but it felt like part of home, and it’s one of those memories that never really leaves. Now, years later, whenever I make this dip, I think of those boats and that coast. It’s a simple recipe—no fussy extras, just shrimp …

The first time I tried to make real baklava, I cried. Not dramatic, sobbing tears—just the sort of frustrated, silent tears that come when you realize you’ve buttered yourself into a corner. Phyllo sheets tearing, sticky counters, butter pooling in places it shouldn’t. My youngest, bless him, wandered through the kitchen and asked if I was “making paper crafts or food.” That was enough to make me laugh through it, but the pan of baklava never did set right. We ate it anyway—too sweet, soggy bottom, like eating nuts wrapped in damp tissue paper. Now, my mother (who would’ve been …