It's Not About Nutrition

Let me tell you something — there are some days when you don’t want to reinvent the wheel. You just want something familiar. Something that fills up the kitchen with warm smells and makes everyone at the table stop talking mid-bite because oh my word, what is this? That, my friend, is Chicken Spaghetti Bake. This recipe has been passed around potlucks, written in church cookbooks, and whispered across back fences for generations. It’s not fancy, but it works. It’s cheesy, creamy, cozy, and loaded with enough flavor to make even the pickiest eaters wipe their plates clean and ask …

Now listen…There are desserts, and then there are moments disguised as desserts.These little fried pies? Oh, they’re the latter. They remind me of warm kitchens in late summer. A bowl of ripe peaches on the counter, a breeze coming through the screen door, and the faint clatter of my granny’s cast iron skillet heating up. She didn’t say much when she cooked — didn’t need to. You could feel the love in the way she pinched the dough edges shut, like sealing a tiny gift. And that smell — cinnamon, sugar, hot pastry, a whisper of butter — it could …

Now listen, I’ve got nothing but love for the classic fried green tomato. You know the one — tart, crisp, dusted in cornmeal, and fried to perfection in a skillet your mama probably handed down. But let me tell you something… Fried red tomatoes? Oh honey, they deserve their moment in the spotlight too. See, every summer without fail, our backyard vines start producing tomatoes faster than we can blink. First you’re watching the green ones ripen, then suddenly you’re knee-deep in sun-warmed, crimson beauties that practically beg to be eaten. And while I’m all for slicing them up for …

You know, some foods just have a way of tugging at your heartstrings. For me, it’s corn dogs. There’s something about that golden, crispy coating, the salty bite of hot dog, and the sweet smell of fried cornmeal that takes me right back to county fairs, long summer evenings, and my mama yelling at me not to run with a stick in my mouth. These cheesy corn dog bites? They take all that nostalgia and turn it into something bite-sized, easy to share, and even easier to love. And with cheddar cheese folded right into the batter? Oh, honey — …

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 …