All Recipes

I’ll tell you right now—this recipe is pure comfort with a green twist. And every time I make it, I think of my Aunt Lou, who used to cook like her oven had healing powers. One spring, after a rough week—my youngest had the flu, the fridge broke, and I spilled coffee in my purse (yes, inside my purse)—I opened my freezer and found a foil-covered surprise from Aunt Lou: her asparagus casserole. I cried into my dinner that night, not because I was sad, but because it tasted like someone had wrapped me in a blanket and said, “You’re …

It was one of those chilly Saturdays in late October. The kind where the trees are showing off, the dogs are curled up in every warm patch of sun, and all you want is something that makes the house smell like you’ve been cooking all day (even if you’ve barely been out of your slippers). I had a few sweet potatoes on the counter and some lonely Brussels sprouts in the fridge — and before I knew it, this casserole was born. And honey, let me just say — this one’s a keeper. It’s got everything: savory chicken, caramelized veggies, …

  When I think of cozy Friday nights in, binge-watching old sitcoms with my husband and the kids wandering in and out of the kitchen, there’s one thing I always crave: a big, warm bowl of melty, creamy queso blanco. Not just any cheese dip though—I’m talking about that creamy, tangy, slightly spicy magic you get with Chipotle’s queso blanco. And let me tell you, after way too many drive-thru stops (and a few spilled tubs of queso in the car), it was finally time to nail down an easy, homemade version. Spoiler: Now we barely even need an excuse …

A little salty, a little tangy, and a whole lot of “pass me the crackers.” Okay, so let me start by saying this: if you’ve never had old-school ham salad, this might sound a little strange at first. Ham… in a salad? With mayo? And eggs?? But trust me—this is one of those retro recipes that should’ve never gone out of style. My grandma used to make a version of this with leftover holiday ham, usually the kind that had a crispy brown sugar crust and still smelled like cloves three days later. She’d just toss the leftover chunks into …

There’s a reason we call this Friendship Spaghetti Pie. It’s not fancy. It’s not trendy. And it sure as heck won’t win any minimalist plating awards. But you know what? It shows up. For new babies, for hard weeks, for potlucks and porch dinners, and sometimes—just because someone needed to feel remembered. This pie is the kind of recipe you double by default, because you already know you’ll be bringing the second one to someone you love (or freezing it for Future You). It’s a little cheesy, a little nostalgic, and completely impossible to mess up. My friend Patty first …

Salty. Creamy. Scoopable. The kinda thing you set out and suddenly it’s gone and everyone’s asking who made it. Let me tell you the honest truth: I almost didn’t share this one. Not because it’s secret (please — secrets don’t live long in my kitchen), but because it’s so simple, I wasn’t sure it even counted as a recipe. I mean… four ingredients. No stove. No oven. No fancy folding or chilling or whisking. Just stir, chill, and scoop. But every time I make it — and I do mean every time — someone asks for the recipe. And I …

  You know those recipes that just sneak up on you and become, secretly, the most requested dish at every family barbecue, birthday, or summer block party? Well, Oreo Dirt Cake is one of those sneaky little stars in my family. I remember the first time my sister-in-law—who swore she “wasn’t really a dessert person”—took one tentative bite. Suddenly I look over and, oops, she’s eating her second bowl. It’s that good. Nostalgic, creamy, chocolatey deliciousness layered up in a pan and topped with messy crumbled cookies. If you grew up with this classic no bake dessert at potlucks or …

I’ll be honest with you — slumgullion isn’t the prettiest name for a dish. Sounds like something you’d feed pirates, doesn’t it? But oh honey, don’t let the name fool you. This one-pot wonder has fed generations, filled bellies on tight budgets, and warmed up more cold nights than I can count. I first had it when I was a kid, sitting at my Aunt Millie’s kitchen table — you know the kind with plastic over the cushions and a rotary phone hanging on the wall. She called it “goulash,” but it was really slumgullion — a tomato-y, beefy, cheesy …

Look, I wasn’t trying to make dinner that night. I was surviving. The dishwasher had overflowed (again), my phone was on 2%, and I’d just remembered the science project due tomorrow. So I did what I do on days like that—I threw some stuff in the slow cooker, crossed my fingers, and hoped it wouldn’t taste like regret. Three hours later, my kitchen smelled like a warm hug. Rich, cozy, coconutty. And when I took that first bite? Y’all. It was creamy, tender, a little spicy, a little sweet. My picky eater actually asked for seconds. I just sat there …