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A little smoky, a little buttery, and a whole lot of comfort in a pot. So here’s the thing —These butter beans? They’re not glamorous. They’re not gonna end up on the cover of Bon Appétit. But they’ve shown up at more family reunions, Sunday dinners, and post-church potlucks than I can count. And every time I make them, my kitchen smells like someone loves me. That’s not a metaphor.That’s bacon, garlic, and butter doing their job. I remember standing on a chair next to my mama at the stove, watching her stir a pot of these beans like it …

Okay, so here’s the thing—I wasn’t planning on falling in love with a bowl of soup in Milan. But that’s exactly what happened. It was one of those gray, damp afternoons—you know the kind where your jeans cling to your ankles and your umbrella’s flapping around like it’s got a grudge? I ducked into this little corner café just to warm up, and there it was: a steaming bowl of minestrone that smelled like it had been simmering all day. Rich, cozy, just slightly creamy with bits of pancetta and rice, and a broth so good I nearly asked for …

You know that dish that always shows up at potlucks, family reunions, or funerals — and you can’t quite tell what’s in it, but you always go back for seconds? That’s this. These Kentucky Crockpot Potatoes are warm, creamy, cheesy, and just the right kind of salty. They’re the kind of potatoes that don’t try to be fancy. They’re not roasted with herbs or shaved into scalloped layers. They’re just honest-to-goodness comfort food — like the kind my Aunt Mary would bring in a big old Crockpot to every church function for 20 years straight. And you know what? Not …

Let me tell you a little something — I used to loathe Brussels sprouts. I mean, really loathe. Back in the ‘80s, they were the soggy, stinky little green things that showed up on your plate when your mama was trying to be “healthy.” And bless her heart, she’d boil them until the kitchen smelled like someone left a gym sock in the Crockpot. Fast forward a couple of decades (and more than a few kitchen experiments), and now? Oh honey, they’re one of my favorite veggies — if they’re roasted right. Golden and crispy, with those little charred bits …

You ever have one of those nights where you’re just staring into your pantry, hoping dinner walks out on its own? That was me last week. I had a loaf of sourdough that was going stale on the counter, a few sad onions rolling around in the bin, and a half-used box of lasagna noodles I’d been avoiding like laundry. And wouldn’t you know—sometimes necessity makes the best meals. I started playing around, and what came out of my oven was one of the coziest things I’ve made in a long time: French Onion Lasagna. Now, I’m not claiming this …

I’ll be honest with you — slumgullion isn’t the prettiest name for a dish. Sounds like something you’d feed pirates, doesn’t it? But oh honey, don’t let the name fool you. This one-pot wonder has fed generations, filled bellies on tight budgets, and warmed up more cold nights than I can count. I first had it when I was a kid, sitting at my Aunt Millie’s kitchen table — you know the kind with plastic over the cushions and a rotary phone hanging on the wall. She called it “goulash,” but it was really slumgullion — a tomato-y, beefy, cheesy …