If you’ve ever seen the movie Love Actually, you’ll recall the famous first few lines—the ones that Hugh Grant’s character speaks in voiceover while you’re watching a scene unfold at Heathrow Airport. He says that whenever he feels gloomy about the state of world, he pictures the arrival gate at Heathrow, and points out that rather than scenes of hate, there is love everywhere—people hugging, kissing, running into each other’s arms and laughing.
Read moreSOURDOUGH RYE BROWNIES
I’m walking down 82nd Street past the police precinct. It’s almost 6 PM; I’ve spent the past hour in Central Park, doing the wide loop around the reservoir as is my evening routine. I’m cold and so eager for a hot shower and pajamas and dinner that I can barely let myself think of the comfort ahead. I walk briskly, picturing each block ahead, only vaguely noticing the surroundings, aware of them only in my peripheral vision: parked police cars, a father holding open the glass door to a restaurant and helping his toddler step carefully down the stoop, a nice-looking yet wearied man walking his golden retriever.
Read moreCOCONUT WHITE CHOCOLATE BLONDIES
Every time I write the word “blondies”, I think about the old cartoon with Blondie and Dagwood. When I was young, there was little more thrilling on a Sunday morning than sitting at our scratched white kitchen table, feet tucked up to avoid kicking at the cold linoleum tile floor, and waiting eagerly for our dad to unfold the newspaper (the Baltimore Sun), riffling through the flimsy pages until he came to the colorful section of cartoons in the back. He’d carefully extract the double pages of funnies, as we called them, and spread them out on the table, pushing aside our half-drunk glasses of orange juice and plates covered in the detritus of breakfast: crusts of whole wheat toast, a smear of fried egg from our one-eyed giants (or, toad in a hole, as most people call them), a bit of strawberry jam clinging to the tines of a fork. juice and plates covered in the detritus of breakfast: crusts of whole wheat toast, a smear of fried egg from our one-eyed giants (or, toad in a hole, as most people call them), a bit of strawberry jam clinging to the tines of a fork.
Read moreSHRIMP AND GRITS, UPDATED
I’ll say this about happiness: it doesn’t always come from the places you expect. In fact, sometimes it comes from entirely unexpected places, or places that you firmly believed could not—and would not—lead to anything but upheaval. That’s one of the best kinds of happiness—the kind that bubbles up and surprises you, effervescent and sparkly and impossible to not succumb to, like that second when you pop a bottle of Champagne and the liquid streams out like gold confetti.
Read moreDAD'S SUNDAE-INSPIRED CHOCOLATE CAKE
Well hello there, it’s been a minute hasn’t it? You’ll forgive me for not writing for a bit. I’ve been all over the place—from a quick jaunt to Italy (okay, just kidding it was nearly a week but I just wanted to try out saying “quick jaunt to Italy”, similar to how I’d like to say “had dinner al fresco at George’s villa”) to a couple days celebrating my 10th college reunion (YOU DO THE MATH OKAY).
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