Italian Salad Sandwich | @thefauxmartha

When Kev decided he wanted to become a psychologist, before he took any classes or practiced therapy, he wanted to work in the prison system. This didn’t come as much of a surprise to me. He volunteered at a nearby prison throughout college. He told me he wanted to reduce recidivism. “Recidi-what?” I said. Recidivism is the relapse of criminal behavior after previously serving time. It’s the boomerang effect. Like poverty. Like a lot of touchy subjects that seem too messy to touch. Read more

Thin 'N Crispy Pizza + Wine To-Go | @thefauxmartha

Shattered flaky thin crust. Handheld pizza. Familiar. The crack of a perspiring can. Crisp white wine. Obligatory cheers. New. Wrinkled white tablecloth. Unpretentious picnic table. Collected flowers. Random vases. Unbreakable plates. Just rightRead more

A Scoop of Black (vegan chocolate ice cream) | @thefauxmartha

The sprinkler runs as we try to salvage our patchy lawn. First time homeowners. Seizing the opportunity, she puts on her swimsuit. I’m glad I skipped buying that $7.99 kiddie pool at Target. It would have been a better mold-grower and debris-collector anyways. She runs a miles worth up and down the driveway, dripping wet, under the canopy of droplets that touch the rays of sun before landing on her. Then the tears show up. I look for blood from the inevitable stubbed toe. Nothing. Read more

Sun-dried Tomato Pesto Picnic Sandwich | @thefauxmartha

With the rest of the world, I’ve always been a little smitten with Ina Garten. Mostly for her ability to pack up everything she’s just made into those perfect plastic containers before meeting Jeffrey at the beach. That’s where she cloaks the sand with a beautiful blanket and speckles it with the prepared food that’s somehow still warm. Is it the magic of TV or Ina? Ina does picnics like no one else.
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Fluffy Yogurt Pancakes | @thefauxmartha

He washes our clothes and shrinks my shirts. Not on purpose, of course. He works all week and teaches at night. He’s determined to payoff his grad school loans faster than he accrued them. His work socks leave dents in his legs which can only be seen as he mows the lawn after work. He’s the CEO (Chief Email Officer) of this site because I’m so debilitatingly right brained. In the words of Hallie, “He’s the best daddy.” Because he is. His fatherly intuition is stronger than mine. He wakes up first and goes to bed last. He forces me to talk when I’m mad. He knows the bitter conversations are the only way to get to the sweeter ones. So in honor of Father’s Day, we’ve worked just as hard to perfect our fluffy pancake recipe. For him. Because he’s been eating my thin whole wheat pancakes all these years without a complaint. Or without much of one. Read more

Chimichurri Aioli | @thefauxmartha

The best things in life are usually accidents first. Like the time I went out for arepas, and they gave me aioli instead of chimichurri for dunking my yucca fries. “No worries,” I said as they brought out the other. And because the aioli was still on my plate, I decided to take the fries in a dip of each. That’s when I landed on the best sauce of my life—Chimichurri Aioli. Herby, zesty, tangy, creamy. All the right things in one vessel instead of two. Read more

Lemon Chia Scones | @thefauxmartha

Last month, I went on a blogger retreat (Eat Sea Retreat) to sunny southern California where avocados and lemons grow on trees, where jasmine perfumes the sidewalks, and where the Pacific blows an air conditioned breeze along the coast. It’s as dreamy as it sounds, unless you live in California and then it’s your normal. The hue of my legs rivaled that of Edward Cullen, without the sparkles. My friend Amanda, also from Minnesota, and I sat at lunch in silence the first day, mostly speechless. Where were we? Definitely not in Minnesota. People sparkled here. I could have used those Cullen sparkles right about now. Later in the day I shrieked at the site of whales. Whales! Someone must have said it in the background. “She’s not from here.” Read more

Lentil Tahini Bowls | @thefauxmartha

I like to talk about food in the context of the dinner table. Because that’s where we eat it night after night. It’s so routine, it’s expected. It’s commonplace. So common that Hallie, my two year old, couldn’t fathom eating dinner in another context. In fact, she couldn’t even fathom real hunger outside of the occasional stomach bug. Honestly, neither can I. I think Katie, founder of Katie’s Krops, would say the same thing too. Yet somehow, after growing a 40 lb. cabbage in 3rd grade for a school project, it propelled her to become a major player in the fight against hunger. Read more