It's Not About Nutrition

I’m gonna be honest with you—this salad isn’t fancy. It won’t win any Michelin stars. Heck, it barely qualifies as a “salad” if you ask the lettuce purists. But you know what? It’s the first thing gone at every cookout. I first tasted this little bowl of joy at a Fourth of July potluck years ago. My friend Karen brought it in a big ol’ Tupperware and said, “Try this, you’ll thank me later.” I did. I did thank her. Then I asked for the recipe, made it the next weekend, and now it’s in my regular summer rotation like …

These were born out of pure laziness. I wanted cookies—but not the scooping, spacing, multiple baking sheets, cooling racks, “don’t overbake the edges” kind of cookies. Just something warm, chewy, chocolatey… and easy. Like really easy. One bowl. One pan. No fancy anything. And you know what? These turned out to be dangerously good. Like, “standing over the stove with a butter knife and eating the corner straight from the pan” good. I’ve made them for everything now—school bake sales, Friday night “oops, we didn’t eat dinner” moments, and even once when my neighbor locked herself out and came over …

Okay, hear me out: this “salsa” isn’t your Tex-Mex kind of salsa—it’s something different. Brighter. Crisper. A little salty, a little tangy, with just the right amount of herby goodness. And every single time I bring it to a cookout or set it out with a bowl of pita chips, someone leans in with that “what is this magic?” face. The funny thing is, it started as a fridge cleanout. I had leftover cucumbers from a tzatziki night, tomatoes that were going soft, and a wedge of feta I couldn’t let go to waste. Next thing you know, I tossed …

I wasn’t planning to bake that day. It was one of those sticky afternoons where everything just feels… tired. I’d already had two cups of coffee (and reheated the second one twice), the laundry was halfway folded on the couch, and honestly? I just needed a win. Something warm. Something that made the house smell like someone had it together. I peeked in the fridge—half a block of cream cheese left. Opened the pantry—one lonely can of peaches, a little dented, like it had been waiting patiently for its moment. And that’s when I remembered this loaf. Let me tell …

You ever get into one of those lunch ruts where you’re staring at your fridge like it’s gonna hand you a sandwich? Yeah. That was me, not too long ago. I’d spent the morning writing up recipes and testing cookies, but when it came time to feed myself? Nada. So I pulled together a few odds and ends—some leftover quinoa, a half-used bag of coleslaw mix, and those cute little mandarins my grandkids always steal out of the fruit bowl. Fifteen minutes later, I had something that felt like sunshine in a bowl. And let me tell you—I’ve made this …

I don’t remember the first time I made this soup. I just remember it being there — in a big pot on the stove, bubbling away while the wind rattled the windows and the kids ran through the house in sock feet and muddy jeans. It’s the kind of meal that shows up when life’s a little chaotic and dinner needs to be hot, hearty, and easy. No fluff, no tiny portions. Just real food, good cheese, and enough flavor to make you forget about whatever mess is waiting in the laundry room. We call it Cowboy Soup, but honestly, …

You know how some recipes feel like they’ve been handed down not just through families, but through time itself? Well, Mamie Eisenhower’s fudge is one of those. I first made it because of the name — “Million Dollar Fudge” just sounds like something you need in your life, right? But after that first batch, I wasn’t just hooked. I was loyal. I’ve since made it for cookie exchanges, holiday trays, church bake sales, and once for a neighbor who was having a very bad Tuesday. This fudge doesn’t just satisfy a sweet tooth — it comforts. It’s familiar. It tastes …

You know those days when the idea of making a whole pizza sounds good, but the reality is: your kitchen’s already clean, you’re in your comfy pants, and the last thing you want is to flour up the counter? Yeah, I’ve had more than a few of those. That’s how these Pepperoni Pizza Crackers were born. One part laziness, one part genius, and a whole lotta cheese. I first whipped these up during a Sunday football game—we had unexpected guests (the kind who show up “just to say hi” and somehow stay for kickoff and dinner). I rummaged around the …

Let me tell you, the first time I made this Layered Dublin Salad, it wasn’t even for a holiday—it was a random Tuesday, I think. I’d stumbled on an old Irish cookbook at a flea market (you know the kind, soft pages, no pictures, just honest food), and tucked in the corner was a scribbled version of this beauty. Now, I’m not saying it changed my life… but it sure made that week’s leftovers a lot more exciting. It’s crisp, colorful, and hearty, but not fussy. It’s got those old-fashioned Midwestern vibes—like the layered salads my Aunt Peggy used to …

Let me tell you something—if you’ve never had an onion fritter, the kind that crackles when it hits the hot oil and smells like Saturday night at Grandma’s house—well, you’re in for a treat. These aren’t your average onion rings or anything you’d find in a drive-thru. No ma’am. These are rustic, golden, Amish-style onion fritters, made with love, pantry staples, and a good cast-iron skillet. I first stumbled across this little gem of a recipe while flipping through an old church cookbook I found at a yard sale. You know the ones—plastic spiral binding, faded photos, lots of Jell-O …