All Recipes

Let me tell you something: Sunday dinners in our house growing up weren’t just meals — they were events. The kitchen would smell like comfort long before we sat down, and there was always something bubbling in the oven that made you feel like everything was right in the world. These Baked French Dip Biscuits bring me right back to those evenings — the laughter, the clinking of dishes, and the sheer joy of tearing into something warm and melty with people you love. Only difference? Now I make them in half the time, with none of the fuss, and …

Let me tell y’all something — I wasn’t planning on falling in love with a biscuit. But here we are. It started on one of those mornings where everything was just a little off. The dog tracked in mud. We were out of milk. And my husband — bless him — asked if I had anything “a little more filling” than cereal. I gave the fridge a stare-down and saw sausage, biscuits, and a little bag of shredded cheese hanging on for dear life. Well, that was all I needed. Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen smelled like something straight outta …

Years ago, my husband and I took a trip to Maui—our first real vacation without the kids. On our second night, we found ourselves at a small backyard luau hosted by a local family. There was laughter, the soft strum of a ukulele, and the unmistakable, smoky aroma of pork slow-roasting underground. That, my friends, was my first bite of authentic Kalua Pig—and it’s lived rent-free in my memory ever since. Now, I’m well aware we don’t all have access to an imu (those underground ovens are no joke), but let me tell you something: your slow cooker can do …

A humble vegetable dressed to impress — no apron required. There are some recipes that just feel like home. You know the ones — they don’t come from a fancy cookbook or a viral video, but from memory. From watching someone you love stand in a warm kitchen with an apron covered in flour or butter (or both). This one takes me straight back to my grandma’s kitchen. She had this way of turning cabbage — plain ol’ cabbage — into something comforting and deeply satisfying. No frills. Just good food. Of course, she didn’t have a slow cooker. She …

Okay. Let me just say this right off the bat:I did not expect this salad to be a hit. I really didn’t. It’s peas. You know? Not exactly thrilling. But years ago, I saw a version of this floating around in one of those old church cookbooks — the kind with hand-drawn little veggies in the margins and at least four recipes for “congealed salad.” I gave it a shot. Tossed it together one weekend when we had friends coming by. I figured, hey, worst-case scenario, we’ll eat it ourselves all week. Well. We did not have leftovers. And now …

A few summers back, during one of those heatwaves that made me question everything — including my decision to bake a peach cobbler in the middle of the day — I stumbled into what I now call my “house iced tea.” Not because I serve it in a house (though I do), but because it’s the one I keep coming back to, over and over, like an old pair of sandals or my favorite porch chair. It started with leftover strawberries and a lemon I forgot I had. Toss in a couple tea bags and some ice, and next thing …

You know how some recipes just feel like home? Like the kind of dessert your aunt brings to every family BBQ—the one that mysteriously disappears before dinner’s even served? Well, that’s this cake. This ooey-gooey, chocolate-meets-coconut miracle of a dessert that tastes like a big ol’ Mounds bar melted straight into your baking dish. Except it’s even better, because it’s soft, moist (yeah, I said it), and chilled to perfection. I first made this Mounds Poke Cake during one of those “I need chocolate and I need it fast” moods. I had a box of cake mix, a can of …

I’ll be honest — I didn’t grow up eating haystacks. We were more of a boxed brownie mix kind of household. But one day, years ago, I was standing in the kitchen, craving something sweet with a little crunch and zero patience. I wasn’t about to preheat the oven or pull out a stand mixer. It was one of those days. That’s when I remembered something I saw in an old church cookbook — peanut butter haystacks.Only I didn’t have the exact ingredients. So I played around. Tossed in some chow mein noodles, stirred in peanuts, added a swirl of …

A humble potato, just a little dressed up… Can I tell you a secret? Some nights, I don’t want to “make dinner.” I want to toss something simple in the oven, pour a glass of red, and pretend the world isn’t spinning quite so fast. That’s where these Sheet Pan Scored Potatoes come in. They’re warm, crispy, golden on top and soft inside — kind of like a hug in food form. And honestly? They look way fancier than they are. My husband swore I’d bought them from some “gourmet market.” (I let him believe that for a minute.) But …

There’s something about the smell of lemon and butter mingling in the air that instantly brings me back to Grandma’s kitchen on a chilly Sunday afternoon. She wasn’t the type to fuss over food. Everything had a rhythm. The potatoes were always peeled before church, the bread was warming in the oven by four, and the fish? Well, the fish practically cooked itself—tucked into the slow cooker while she caught up on her stories and hollered at Grandpa to set the table. That’s the kind of cooking I grew up with—easygoing, full of flavor, and built on the backbone of …