It's Not About Nutrition

Years ago, I brought a tray of these to a holiday party at my friend Susan’s house. You know the kind — twinkle lights everywhere, kids running wild, adults huddled near the snacks trying to pretend they weren’t going back for thirds. I set the warm tray down, turned around to hang up my coat… and when I came back? Gone. Not one left. Someone even asked if I had another batch in the car. That’s when I knew I had something special. There’s just something about that combination — smoky sausage, salty bacon, that caramelized brown sugar crust — …

I’ve got a confession: I used to groan when someone handed me a bag of zucchini from their garden. Don’t get me wrong—it’s a sweet gesture. But what was I supposed to do with five pounds of it? You can only make so much zucchini bread, and honestly, my freezer’s still holding hostage a few loaves from last year. Then came these Zucchini Drop Biscuits, and let me tell you—they changed my tune real quick. It started with a “use-what-you-have” dinner situation. We were out of bread. Out of crackers. I had cheese, green onions, and… yep, a lonely zucchini …

Let me tell y’all something. The first time I had this French Quarter Pecan Cream Cheese Spread, I was standing barefoot in my cousin Lila’s kitchen in Baton Rouge. It was one of those steamy June afternoons, the kind where the air feels like warm syrup. Lila had set out this little dish — just a block of cream cheese, dressed up in a rich, brown-sugar pecan sauce that shimmered like molasses. I’ll be honest: I didn’t expect much. But honey, one bite on a wheat cracker and I about lost my mind. It was creamy, savory, sweet, a little …

You ever bite into something that stops you mid-chew — not because it’s fancy, but because it tastes like someone’s hug? That’s exactly how I feel about Polish hamburgers. They’re not flashy. No crusty baguette, no brioche bun, not even a pickle in sight. But honey, when that fork slices into a juicy pork-and-beef patty smothered in creamy mushroom gravy… well, you just know you’re home. These were always on my grandma’s “fridge-cleaning” rotation. You know the type — she’d eyeball a half pack of saltines, a stubborn green bell pepper, a forgotten onion in the crisper, and somehow? Dinner. …

You ever make something once, kinda on a whim, and suddenly everyone thinks it’s your thing? That’s this dip. The first time I served it was at my sister-in-law’s baby shower. I was running late (what’s new), had no time to bake, and just needed something I could throw together and pray it looked like I tried. I remembered an old scribble of a recipe from a church potluck years ago, whipped it up, and — no joke — by the time I circled back to the food table, it was half gone and someone was scraping the edge with …

Alright, let me just say it — I used to hate wasting food. But crusts? Oh, they were my weakness. Every time I made sandwiches for the grandkids, those little trimmed edges would pile up on the counter like breadcrumbs from a fairy tale. I’d try to save them, maybe feed the birds or toss them into a meatloaf. But more often than not? Into the trash they went. Ugh, the guilt. One day I got tired of feeling bad about it and decided to experiment. I was already melting butter for garlic bread — and I thought, well shoot, …