i’ve written elsewhere about principles that undergird straightforward recipes; now the onus is on me to bang out instructions that my cooking rookie cousin can follow to make her take on my take on shakshuka. my process resides mostly within my head, but also partially on a spartan phone note…

on adaption, attribution, and halloween baking — as an act of resistance against the seasonless void that is san francisco, california, i’ve tried to fill my life with spooky-cozy things that make it feel like october. (yep, fall is still on my mind.) my culinary endeavors are no exception. i couldn’t not crack open a can of…

autumnal angst and appreciation — san francisco folks like to boast of a “perpetual fall,” but i’ve come to believe that this phrase belies a fundamental misunderstanding of the season. a quick wikipedia search for “mediterranean climate” — a fact-driven bay area laudation — divvies up our weather into two seasons: “dry summers” and “mild…

i moved into a one-bedroom apartment because i wanted to have a kitchen all to myself. i craved a space in which i could dilly-dally during my cheffy endeavors without guilt gnawing at the margins of my mind. i was proud of how much i’d upleveled my food game during…

ah, summer in san francisco, sun-starved and stultifying. the chill returned last night after a day-long respite that didn’t quite warm my bones. though born and bred in the midwest, home of the Actual Cold, i’ve been bucked off my high horse by the biting ocean winds and am no…

in one lifetime i’ve marked the passage of time in three markedly different ways: tunnel-visioned to the cadence of the academic year; suspended in a trance by the bay area’s monthly sameness; and, now, rousing to the cyclical weather patterns of the city i inhabit. it took one (1) whole…

i recently wrote about realizing that my pando-fueled efficiency kick isn’t as rosy as i’d reckoned. my best efforts to streamline everything cropped up in my cooking: i’ve shied away from serendipity and sought out simplicity and the same old. i off-roaded my livelihood straight into a lackluster rut. so…

some takes on pandemic takeout — the pandemic changed how i dine out. forgive me for such a trite opener: it’s concise and true. …

on food, memory, and ghost stories (kind of) — i’ve been feeling quite fond of my cache of nut butters lately, both pantry-placed and memory-moored. i’m not usually one to remember dreams, but a few weeks ago i woke up with a simple fall breakfast at the forefront of my mind. my boyfriend and i were about to embark…