We made our first trek to NYC this weekend. It was glorious. But it started with an alarm at 5:45 am. A walk to the train in the pouring rain. And a two hour train ride. Wishful thinking—I thought we lived closer to the city. Read more
You probably don’t have my blog memorized like I do. And you probably don’t remember my post back from January talking about blackberry cobbler. And how we turn that into peach cobbler in the summer. Read more
We still have zucchini left after making these bundt cakes and a zucchini pizza last night. I told you we had a lot. And it’s only when you have a lot of zucchini that you begin making cakes out of it. Don’t worry, we’ve eaten plenty of it in its original nutrition-filled form. But eventually you have to make cakes. Mini bundt cakes. Read more
Simple is hard. And it happens to be a big part of my day job. As a designer, I try to pare information down to its most simple form. Communicate only what is most important. Read more
I have a knack for passing time. For keeping myself busy in my own little corner of the house. For spending all day in the kitchen. Creating unnecessary to-do lists. And missing out on opportunities I didn’t know I had. You learn this about yourself when you move. The last 3 weeks of life in Chicago were filled to the brim. Every last meal, every last moment, spent with friends. I lived more in those 3 weeks than I did in our 4 years there. Some people say live with no regrets. I say learn from your mistakes. Read more
Making margarita cupcakes turned into making more margarita cupcakes.
Which turned into an excess of limes and eggs lying around the kitchen. Read more
I should be packing. And organizing. And throwing out things I haven’t touched in the past four years since moving to Chicago. I shouldn’t be blogging and baking and coming up with new recipes. I shouldn’t be running to Trader Joe’s to pick up bags of ingredients. Or setting up my white boards in front of the window to wait for the light to turn just right. Read more
I’m fighting against the seasonal clock to make as many rhubarb infested treats as possible. The window is short. Too short. I nearly broke out in sweat on a cool 70° morning at the farmer’s market this week. Was I late? Where’s all the rhubarb? Oh, it was there alright. At the very last stand. Read more
