Sara of Cake Over Steak organized an epic #virtualpumpkinparty today with over 70 bloggers. That means 70 new pumpkin recipes just hit the WWW. Kim K., this is how you break the internet. I’ve used that joke before, haven’t I? I’m nothing if not consistent. So consistent my friend Adam, husband of The Vanilla Bean Blog, said I might as well call myself The Donutmartha. He’s right. I’ve posted my fair share of baked donut recipes. I was actually surprised to realize that I’d never worked on a baked pumpkin donut before. In another life, I’d like to have a baked donut truck. Read more
Growing up in Texas, we learned about fall, winter, and spring from textbooks and encyclopedias. A feed full of changing leaves on Instagram wasn’t a thing then, and connecting to the internet was about like dialing the man on the moon. I always thought the spelling of seasons was a mistake. It’s season. My pen pals from other countries thought we traveled by horse. Come to find out, we lived in the same country and it wasn’t called Texas. I now joke that Texans have a hard time believing in climate change because the climate never changes. I’m kidding. Kinda. Read more
A couple weeks ago when it was still warm enough to make you sweat, we stopped by a lemonade stand on the corner of the street. We chatted with and met new neighbors. I was juggling a cup of lemonade and a nap-ready, wiggly baby while trying to keep four new names straight. (I’m abnormally good with faces but adversely awful with names.) A homeless woman walked up, put her change down on the table without hesitation, and walked away with a cup of lemonade in hand and a smile on her face. My mind was a thousand different places, but present enough to absorb that brief moment.
In his hurriedness to get off to work, I noticed Kev took the time to throw away my used coffee filter hanging off the side of the Chemex. Meanwhile, I sat at the dining room table, drinking the cup of coffee that filter had produced. It was a rare glimpse. I’m usually the one in the kitchen or on the floor corralling the babe. Thank you, I said. He said you’re welcome like it was no big deal, like he does it all the time. I often throw it away, he said. I paused, took another sip, and tried to remember the last time I threw it away. Thank you, I said again. Read more
My soon-to-be-neighbor Lucy asked how I come up with recipes. I told her I wish I could attribute it to my brilliantly creative mind. But alas, my mind is neither brilliant or creative when it comes to recipes. And let’s be honest, I’m kind of a Plain Jane when it comes to food. One really good (and simple) recipe far outweighs 10 interesting recipes in my book. Boring, Plain Jane, classic. Call me what you’d like. Read more
Crisp temperatures. Cozy couches. Comfort food. Lazy weekends. Sideways sun. Mug filled hands. Red tipped noses. Chunky knit socks. Blue faded jeans. Apple cider donuts. Wood crackling bonfires. She’s back in full force. Hi, Autumn.
Let me start out by saying—put down your dukes. Have you read the news? This is a heated subject—Pumpkin Spice Lattes. Put out your hand. Mine’s out too. Let’s shake. We’re all still friends here no matter how we take, or don’t take, the PSL. Agreed? Agreed. I’ve been using my mom voice a lot lately. It’s weirding me out too.
When my grandparents came to visit as a kid, they’d always sleep in my room. I wouldn’t let my mom take the sheets off after they left. Their smell. I wanted it to last, and the sheets seemed to hold it the longest. I’d cry when it no longer smelled like them but rather me. Read more