Crispy Roasted Potatoes & Brussels Sprouts With Cilantro Sauce, Goat Cheese & Olives

I know that the holidays are in full effect, and that I should probably be posting how to make sugar cookies shaped like reindeer, covered in candy canes and peppermint bark and dipped into eggnog. That would be festive. Also, gross. Note to self: don’t dip overly-candied cookies into eggnog. Or, do. I feel confused. Is there a Christmas professional around who can tell me if this is a good or a bad idea? Also, how many gingerbread cookies crumbled up into a bowl make a good breakfast cereal? I have a lot of questions. But, I digress. Treats. I’ll probably be shoving treats in your face soon, so not to worry. However, this is the kind of food I’ve been crushing on currently. Hard. Like, I’m a twelve year old girl in 1995, and this pan of roasted veggies is on the cover of Tiger Beat right next to JTT. Big-swoony-write its name on my binder kind of crushin’. Practice kissing on your hand before bed kind of crushin’. It’s serious.  […]

Veggie Lover’s Easy Asian Slaw With Sesame Dressing

Growing up is weird, right?

The more grown I get, the more uncertain I am if the term “grown up” is even a real thing. I think, like most young people, I had this false hope that one morning in my late twenties I would awaken with a strong grip on how to do taxes, and the willingness to save money for a new sensible vacuum cleaner. I would be tidier. I’d have cosmically started a retirement account. I would feel a certain maturity. The depth of my wisdom would increase alongside the axis of how strong my prescription glasses needed to be. I would definitely not curse in front of my husband’s boss. And, I probably wouldn’t sign business e-mails with emojis. But, this doesn’t happen. It’s not concrete. I still have the crappy vacuum cleaner I purchased when I was nineteen. I’m wiser, but not above asking Web MD if I am dying when I have a headache. I’m aware that grown up mail is usually just a slew of bills, credit card offers, and an L.L Bean catalog from that time I purchased my husband a fleece. I’m aware that sometimes the child who is working the checkout of a Trader Joes will call me Ma’am and not card me when I purchase wine. And, I’m certainly aware that being a grown up means eating a lot of veggies. […]

Grain-Free Apple Crumble Pumpkin Pie

I’m going to level with you. I had a fever when I created this pie.

Not in the dramatic “I have an insatiable fever and the only cure is pie” kind of way, and not in the overtly-sexy “you give me fever” jazz-standard kind of way. But, rather the “I’m cold sweating, and this thermometer tells me I’m NOT actually cold on the inside” kind of way. Things aren’t generally awesome when you’re sporting a fever. Shivering happens. Clammy-face happens. Your husband might come home from work to find you laying on the couch, wearing nothing but a long sleeve shirt with an ice pack stuffed into your bra. Who needs pants when you’ve got long sleeves? Using fever logic, the answer to that question is NO ONE. Or, maybe it’s seven. I’m not sure. Basically, things don’t make sense. […]

Spiced Ginger Kabocha Pie with Maple Coconut Cream {Gluten-Free, Grain-Free, Paleo}

In an effort to make fall arrive here in California, I’ve been consuming pie as if it were some sort of fork to face rain-dance.

Really, it’s just something I’m trying out for the greater good. I will eat pie for breakfast in the name of chunky sweaters, and tall boots, and the California drought. I’ll happily open my pie hole for dessert, in the hopes of bringing a changing of the leaves, crisp fall air, hot toddies, and the right to stop sweating. Please, someone… anyone… turn off my armpit glands. I know this isn’t “healthy” to do, but since it’s divine intervention I’m asking for, I figure you can find a way to divinely redesign this girl’s pits so they’re no longer weeping under the weight of pie baking in summer temperatures. Speaking of my armpits– did you all catch episode seven of The So…Let’s Hang Out Podcast? It’s a doozy. […]

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