Mae was home.She walked in while I was halfway through slicing onions, said, “Smells like you’re trying.”I was. Not for perfection. Not for guests. Just …

Recipes Inspired by Martha Stewart, Cooked in Real Life
Mae was home.She walked in while I was halfway through slicing onions, said, “Smells like you’re trying.”I was. Not for perfection. Not for guests. Just …
The fridge light caught it first.That glass dish we never use—wedged behind the oat milk and the jar of peach jam from 2002.Still red. Still …
I wasn’t trying to be festive. There was no birthday, no holiday, no reason to pull out cookie cutters shaped like mittens and moons. I …
It wasn’t warm enough for strawberries. Not really. Not the kind you’d eat barefoot in the yard with juice dripping down your wrist. But they …
I hadn’t meant to bake. I really hadn’t. But the apples on the counter were going soft in that way that starts to feel personal.It …
It was one of those evenings when the house just… echoed.No music, no questions, no forks left in the sink. Mae was out. The wind …
The house was quiet, but not the peaceful kind—more like the kind that creeps in after a hard week and makes you stare too long …
It started with a craving.Not for eggs, exactly—but for something tidy. Precise. A little retro and a little smug. Like I could make order out …
The kitchen was already warm when I started—sunlight on the counter, that kind of hush that happens when you wake up before your thoughts do. …
It was too early for a decision and too late to go back to bed.The dog had already pawed the bedroom door open. The kettle …