All Recipes

ok so listen.i’m not here to sell you on cauliflower. if you’re already like “ehh i don’t know…” — same. i’ve felt that way. cauliflower’s kind of the beige sweatpants of vegetables. it shows up everywhere, tries to be everything (rice? wings? crust?) and honestly… it’s kinda exhausted. but then one day, i just dropped a whole one in the slow cooker. no chopping. no roasting. no making it into something it’s not. just her. in all her weird brain-shaped glory.and. it. slapped. i didn’t expect it. i wasn’t even trying to be creative. i was tired. i had laundry …

There’s something about Midwestern kitchens — the kind with slightly outdated wallpaper, the hum of an old slow cooker on the counter, and the smell of something amazing that’s been simmering all day — that just feels right. This 5-ingredient salsa chicken? It’s straight from that world. I first made it on one of those days where you’re staring blankly into the fridge at 3 p.m. wondering what you’re doing with your life. I was tired. We had chicken. I had zero motivation to cook. But I also didn’t want to hear anyone say “what’s for dinner?” one more time. …

I wasn’t even planning to make bread. Honestly, I was just hungry and tired and not in the mood to make a real dinner. You know those evenings where your fridge is mostly condiments and a questionable lemon? That was me. Then I spotted a lone beer in the fridge and a half-bag of self-rising flour shoved behind a box of cereal, and something clicked. Bread. I’d seen people talk about “beer bread” before, but it always sounded like one of those Pinterest things that ends in disappointment. But I figured — worst case, I waste a beer I wasn’t …

Let me tell you a little secret. In my family, the turkey is not the star of Thanksgiving. I know, I know — that’s basically illegal in some households. But in ours? It’s always been the honey garlic pork loin bubbling away in the slow cooker that people come back for. We even gave it a nickname: Mom’s Thanksgiving Magic. Kinda dramatic, but trust me, it earned it. I remember one year — snow flurries tapping the kitchen window, my uncle trying (and failing) to carve a pumpkin pie with a steak knife — and in the corner, Mom’s old …

The recipe that made me fall in love with cabbage. Again. Alright, can I just say something? I was never planning to write a love letter to cabbage. And yet—here we are. Cabbage, to me, was always that one vegetable that kinda just existed. It showed up in soups, occasionally made a sad slaw appearance, and mostly hung around in the fridge until I forgot about it. But this recipe? This slow cooker garlic parmesan whole cabbage with lemon butter? This changed things. It’s the kind of meal that feels like it’s been passed down, even if you just made …

Let’s just be honest here. Some nights, I feel like I deserve a standing ovation just for putting actual food on the table. Not gourmet, not trendy, not even particularly photogenic—just real food, made by a real person who is tired but still wants to feed people they love. This is one of those recipes. It’s not flashy. There’s no glaze or garnish. But every time I make it—every time—someone at the table leans back, exhales with a little smile, and says, “Mmm. This is really good.” And in that tiny moment, it feels like everything’s okay. Garlic Parmesan Chicken.Slow …

Or: That time I accidentally made something so good it became a tradition. Okay, here’s the thing.I wasn’t trying to impress anyone when I made this. I wasn’t hosting a dinner party, and I definitely wasn’t wearing makeup. It was one of those days — the kind where you wake up tired, the coffee tastes weird, and the laundry has been in the dryer so long it’s just part of the furniture now. But I had a few sweet potatoes sitting on the counter, and I thought: What if I just sliced these up real thin, poured something sweet and …

The Soup That’s Always There When I Need It You ever have one of those days where the only thing you want is something warm in a bowl? Not fancy. Not complicated. Just something that makes you feel okay again—something that tastes like home, like safety, like being taken care of even when no one’s around? Yeah. That’s this soup for me. I didn’t grow up eating anything like it, weirdly enough. But it feels nostalgic. Like the food you remember from childhood, even if no one in your family ever actually made it. It’s chicken soup, but better. Softer, …

Alright, I’ll be honest with you. Some nights I’m all about that “from-scratch, everything roasted, herbs from the garden” energy. But most nights? Most nights I want food that’s warm, filling, and basically makes itself while I try to remember where I left my phone charger. Or sanity. Enter: Amish Buttered Noodles. I don’t even remember where I first heard about these—probably some Facebook group full of Midwest aunties sharing casserole tips. But what I do remember is how skeptical I was. Like, three ingredients? No boiling? No cream-of-anything soup? Too easy, right? But then I made it. And now …

So… the first time I made this stew, I was having one of those days. You know the kind — the house was a disaster, we were running low on groceries, and I swear every single one of my group chats needed something from me. I hadn’t planned dinner (shocker), and I was this close to doing the old “let’s just do cereal” routine. No shame — we’ve all been there. But then I remembered this thing I’d seen online — something about beef stew with just four ingredients. No chopping, no browning, no fancy steps. Just toss it all …