I’ve been toting around the tagline made from scratch for a couple years. But it didn’t feel right until now. Homemade marshmallows have been mastered. This wasn’t my first rodeo though. A couple summers ago I made them (different recipe) and forced them down my poor family’s throat. They were entirely ho-hum. As was my reputation and dream of roasting homemade marshmallows around the campfire.
Our first married Thanksgiving Kev sat down to the dinner table in disbelief.
I was oblivious. And proud. A brined turkey, homemade stuffing with cranberry walnut bread, cranberry orange sauce, sautéed snap peas, and a chocolate pound cake. Read more
I saw them at the store. As pretty as always. But I grew up hearing stories about them. The kind of stories said with a snicker. Read more
I never knew the simple magic of sparkling cranberries until a friend introduced them to me. Soaked in a sugar bath the night before, these require a little forethought, but that’s the only thing complicated about them. Drain and sprinkle with sugar for dazzling results. They’re sweet, but not too sweet, and still plenty start. Serve in a bowl or top a cake or add to a cheeseboard. Just make these sparkling cranberries. Read more
We made it to Maryland late last night after a 40 mile detour and 15 minutes of stopage time. Our GPS froze and a light went out on the back of our car. A nice cop let us know. Did I mention Starbucks closed 5 minutes before closing time. It was a long night. But at 2 am we pulled up to my grandmas house. She greeted us with curlers fresh out of her hair and a sandwich and cookies. I can only hope to be half the woman she is at 80. Read more
My mom’s in town for the week. We’ve been eating well. Very well. Drinking plenty of glasses of wine and sharing stories we’ve probably told a million times. They’re stories that make our family unique. Stories about my brother chasing my sister down the beach declaring, “sweet revenge,” with a plastic sword in his hand. Stories of sitting in ant piles and falling off my scooter. My dad picked every last pebble out of my knee. Stories of listening to my Big Bird tape player sing “I wanna go home” over and over again. Stories that no one else quite understands except my family. They’re ours. Read more
If you live in the U.S., you know what today is. The day those defaming political ads quit running on TV. Maybe today is a bit hopeful, but tomorrow—I’m counting on you. The recent days have been too dark.
In high school I painted. My schedule was filled with art classes. I liked it that way. We learned about complimentary colors—something I probably learned as a child but didn’t really understand. Complimentary colors are funny. They sit across from each other on the color wheel. Some may say they’re complete opposites. But when you put them next to each other, they are brighter and more beautiful. They’re complimentary. Read more
Where do you find your worth? Last night thoughts of high school flooded my memory. With them came a slight pang in my stomach. I pictured my 16 year old self, wandering around, hoping someone would notice me. Really—hoping a cute boy would notice me. Awkwardness. Uncertainty. Ample mascara. And a spray of Gap’s perfume Dream. Those were not the days.
