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 …

Recipes Inspired by Martha Stewart, Cooked in Real Life

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 …

It was the kind of cold that settles in your joints before you even open the door. Not dramatic snowstorm cold—just the gray, unforgiving chill …

The kitchen smelled like broth and wet rope.Not bad—just strange.November was late this year, and I was late with it. The fridge had grapes rolling …

The radiator was clicking again. That uneven clack it makes when the air’s too dry and I’ve forgotten to bleed the pipes. I wasn’t planning …