The neighborhood chili cook-off was in four hours and I had completely forgotten. Everyone else would be bringing their secret-ingredient, slow-simmered-for-two-days masterpieces. I had a … Read more
I was standing in the produce aisle last Tuesday, staring at a pile of butternut squash like it held the answers to the universe. The … Read more
Sarah wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I’d stopped by her place on a drizzly Tuesday afternoon to pick up a book I’d loaned her months … Read more
I had sworn off taco soup for about six years. Let me tell you, it wasn’t a dramatic declaration or anything—just a quiet, firm stance … Read more
I was standing in the frozen food aisle of the grocery store last Tuesday, staring at a bag of frozen hash browns like they held … Read more
There used to be a tiny Italian place tucked behind a laundromat on the corner of Maple and Third that made a lasagna soup that … Read more
My accountant, Mr. Henderson, is a quiet man who wears cardigans and smells faintly of old books. For three years, our conversations never went beyond … Read more
I was standing in the grocery store parking lot last Tuesday, gripping a plastic bag that had just started to leak, when the smell hit … Read more
I’d been claiming to hate pork chops for about fifteen years. Fifteen years of politely pushing them around my plate at family dinners, of saying … Read more
It was 11:47 PM on a particularly dreary Tuesday, and I was hit with a craving so specific it almost hurt. I wanted meatloaf. Not … Read more
