All Recipes

So here’s the thing—I didn’t grow up with Dutch Letters. We didn’t have them at the grocery store, and I never saw them in the school bake sales. But one summer, years ago, my husband and I drove through Pella, Iowa during their Tulip Festival. You’ve never seen so many flowers, people in wooden shoes… and pastries. That’s where I had my very first Dutch Letter. It was still warm, wrapped in that old-timey wax paper, and the sugar on top stuck to my fingers. Flaky, buttery, and filled with almond paste—not almond extract, but the real stuff. I remember …

You’ll never look at cauliflower the same way again. So here’s the honest truth: I used to make roasted cauliflower purely out of guilt. You know… “Gotta eat more veggies, be a grown-up about it” kind of thing. And it was fine — a little olive oil, some salt, a good roast — totally acceptable. But then I started adding cheese sauce. Not just any cheese sauce — a creamy, garlic-infused, nutmeg-kissed Mornay that wraps every floret in a velvety, savory hug. I’m telling you, once I pulled that bubbly, golden dish out of the oven and caught a whiff …

You know those recipes that somehow sneak their way into every holiday season, no matter how many new things you swear you’re gonna try instead? This is that one for me. Every. Single. Year. It started one December when I was knee-deep in wrapping paper, elbow-deep in peppermint bark, and had exactly zero desire to turn on the oven. I had a box of pudding mix, an unopened Cool Whip in the fridge (leftover from a failed pie attempt), and more candy canes than one family should legally own. And this little pepperminty, creamy, layered miracle was born. Now it’s …

A cozy little pan of “oh wow, we’re doing this again next week” Okay, let me just say—this recipe came out of one of those weird, semi-desperate, “use what’s in the fridge or give up and eat cereal” kind of nights. It was chilly out. I was tired. The kind of tired where you’re not even sure you’re hungry, just in need of something warm and cheesy to fill the emotional gap. You know? I found frozen potatoes. A couple sad tortillas. A half-block of cream cheese from who-knows-when. A can of green chiles I must’ve bought in 2019. And …

ll the flavor, none of the drama You ever try making traditional Chicken Cordon Bleu on a weeknight? I did. Once. It was a Tuesday, I was tired, and somewhere between pounding the chicken flat and trying to keep the ham and cheese from squirting out the sides, I just thought—why am I doing this to myself? It was delicious, sure. But I had a toddler tugging on my leg and a dishwasher that was already full. So, that was the end of that. But the flavor? That creamy, savory, slightly smoky combo of chicken, ham, and melty Swiss? Still …

A one-pan wonder for the nights you can’t even deal So here’s the deal—I was standing in the kitchen last Wednesday, staring down a package of chicken thighs and a fridge that looked like it had seen better days. You know the scene: one sad zucchini, a half-used jar of olives, and that last little wedge of feta you meant to use two recipes ago. I didn’t have the energy to fuss with three pans or make a side dish. I barely had the energy to stand. And then I remembered this dinner. Oh, this glorious, juicy, lemony, one-pan miracle …

I wasn’t planning to make dinner.Honestly, I was this close to pouring a bowl of cereal and calling it a night. You know those days when your brain’s fried, the sink is full, and you open the fridge like, “Why are you so empty and yet so full of nothing?” Well, that was me. But then—I spotted a jar of garlic chili crisp hiding behind some pickles, a bunch of limp green onions, and that pack of spring roll wrappers I bought for a recipe I never made. (Because of course I didn’t.) And out of that chaos came this. …

You ever throw something together on a Tuesday night that just… shouldn’t be good, but it is? Like suspiciously good? That’s what happened with this dish. I had leftover mozzarella from a DIY pizza night (which, by the way, was fine but no one was wowed), and a couple of yakisoba noodle packs in the back of the fridge—you know, the kind you keep “just in case.” No plan, just hunger and bad lighting and mild panic. So I did what any tired home cook would do. I dumped it all in a pan. Chicken, garlic, some veg. Sauce? Sorta. …

Rich, bright, and comfortingly messy in the best way So picture this: it’s 6:42 p.m., you’re hungry but not in the mood to fuss, and all you really want is something creamy and warm — but not too heavy — with a little zing, a little green, and a lot of flavor. That’s how this pasta was born. I’d been staring into the fridge like it owed me an explanation. You know the mood. I saw a jar of artichokes shoved behind the pickles, some spinach barely holding it together, and a lone lemon rolling around the bottom of the …

I don’t know about you, but some days I just want a meal that doesn’t try too hard. Not fancy, not trendy — just warm, filling, and made from things I already have on hand. The kind of meal that makes you feel like everything’s going to be okay, even if the laundry’s piling up and the weather’s gone gray and moody. That’s exactly what this soup is. Ribollita — which just means “reboiled” in Italian — is like the lovechild of pantry cooking and a big cozy hug. It’s thick. It’s rustic. And it tastes like something someone’s nonna …