It's Not About Nutrition

Okay, full honesty—when I first saw that Snoop Dogg had a cookbook, I thought it was just a fun novelty thing. You know, like, “Oh look, the rapper made a cookbook.” But then I actually made something from it, and… yeah. I was wrong. So wrong. These brownies? They’re not just good. They’re next-level chocolatey, like fudge and cake had a baby and that baby had zero chill. And the best part? You don’t need anything fancy. I made these in my old scratched-up saucepan with a wooden spoon that’s seen better days, and they still turned out like something …

You know those days when you just need a cookie that means it? Not some flat little crisp with a few chocolate chips scattered like afterthoughts. No, ma’am. I’m talking about the kind of cookie you break open with both hands — warm, molten in the center, pockets of melted chocolate oozing out like a dessert lava flow. Well, one rainy afternoon (the kind where your slippers stay on ‘til 3pm), I found myself craving that exact cookie. I wanted thick, I wanted chewy, and I wanted to bite into something that felt like a hug. After a few test …

I had strawberries that were starting to slump a little in the back of the fridge — you know that kind, soft in the middle but still too good to toss — and I’d already made jam the week before. So I just started throwing things in a bowl. I didn’t even get the mixer out. I was barefoot. It was a Sunday. The dog was snoring by the door. You get the picture. And somewhere between folding the strawberries in and brushing cream on top, I thought: Huh. These might actually turn out alright. They didn’t turn out alright.They …

A few weeks ago, I had one of those half-full bags of Hawaiian rolls on the counter. You know the kind — slightly squished, a few lonely ones clinging to the edge of the plastic tray. I was this close to tossing them (guilt included), but something in me whispered, “Don’t do it. Turn them into something good.” Well, sweet Lord, did I ever. What came out of that oven was like bread pudding and cinnamon rolls had a baby, and that baby was golden, soft in the middle, and had just the right crisp along the edges. My husband …

Let me just say this right off the bat: if you bring this dip to a gathering, bring the recipe too, because folks will be asking. No joke — I’ve scribbled this one on napkins, church bulletins, even the back of a receipt once at a baby shower. It’s just that good. I first made this Jarlsberg Cheese Dip on a whim before a Sunday potluck. You know how it is — you don’t want to show up empty-handed, but you’re also not trying to turn on the oven in August. I had a block of Jarlsberg, some mayo, and …

Comfort food that looks strange going in the oven but makes perfect sense coming out. Okay, so here’s the deal. I wasn’t planning to like this recipe. I saw it on TikTok (probably the same video you did—the one where they’re just pouring layers of things into a dish without stirring) and thought, No way that turns out right. I mean, melted butter in the bottom of the pan, then raw biscuit mix poured over frozen veggies? It goes against everything my momma taught me about layering casseroles. But… curiosity won. And I made it. And well—now my family asks …

A humble little treat with a whole lot of soul. Let me tell you—these Sailor Jacks are the kind of bake that smell like your grandma’s kitchen and the corner bakery had a baby. They’re dark, spiced, sticky in the best way, and honestly? They make your whole house smell like a holiday even when it’s the middle of May. Now, I don’t know where the name “Sailor Jacks” came from, exactly. I’ve heard a few stories. One said they were popular with sailors because they kept well on long voyages. Another said it was because of the molasses and …

Creamy, smoky, sweet, and just a little spicy—kind of like Mom herself. There are a few things that show up at every single gathering in my family. Someone brings a “salad” that’s 80% marshmallows, someone brings rolls and forgets the butter, and my mom brings this dip. Always this dip. And by the end of the night, the pan is scraped clean—usually by someone (me) standing by the kitchen sink with a cracker, shamelessly going in for “one last bite.” She calls it “Razzle Dazzle Dip.” I have no idea where the name came from—probably just something she made up …

So, last week I had this tub of Greek yogurt staring at me every time I opened the fridge. You know the one—you bought it with good intentions (smoothies? breakfast parfaits?) but then life got busy, and suddenly it’s three days from its “eh, maybe toss it” date. Anyway, I remembered this simple little yogurt cake I’d made ages ago from a French cookbook that’s permanently crusted with flour and butter fingerprints. It’s not showy. It’s not iced with twelve layers or topped with candied orange peel or anything like that. But it’s good. Like, sneak-a-slice-before-coffee-is-done good. And it’s the …

Old-school comfort that practically cooks itself. Okay, so—this casserole. Goodness. It’s one of those dishes that just happens in my kitchen anytime the weather even hints at turning chilly, or when I’m just plain tired and don’t feel like being clever with dinner. You know what I mean? This recipe came from my grandma—well, kind of. She never wrote things down, but this is the closest I could get after watching her toss ingredients into that dented white Pyrex dish and somehow end up with something that had everyone scooping seconds before she even sat down. It’s creamy, buttery, simple, …