It started because I bought too many tomatoes again.The kind that sit on the counter and dare you to ignore them.Some were soft. One had …

Recipes Inspired by Martha Stewart, Cooked in Real Life
It started because I bought too many tomatoes again.The kind that sit on the counter and dare you to ignore them.Some were soft. One had …
The floor was cold. That kind of April cold that seeps up through the tile because you still haven’t sealed the back door. I wasn’t …
It started with eggplant.Not the one from the recipe. One in my fridge that had been in there long enough to feel… squishy at the …
The sugar bowl was already out.That’s how it started. I wasn’t planning to bake. I was looking for tea bags or maybe silence, I don’t …
It started with the zester. Bent just enough to catch on the skin of the lime and knick me, slightly—enough to swear. Enough to remember …
It was too hot to think.Not summer-hot. Emotional-hot. That weird heat that rises when you’re holding too much in — jaw, gut, fists. I opened …
The dog was barking at the wind again and I couldn’t find the lid to the sugar jar. That’s how it started. Not with a …
It started with the pink food coloring.I wasn’t even planning to bake. I’d opened the drawer for a tea towel—one of the good ones, the …
The kitchen smelled like oil before I even started.Not the clean kind. The kind that lingers in your clothes and hair and makes you wonder …
It started with the knife.The dull one. The one I should’ve sharpened weeks ago—the one with the crack in the handle that pinches your thumb …