Ultimate Peanut Butter Cake
There’s something I want you to know about me. I’ve wrestled for quite awhile about how to say this, but I’ve never wrestled with whether or not it needs to be said. If you don’t know this, you don’t know me. And if this space isn’t a space to share myself and learn about you, it’s nothing to me.
Lemon Cheesecake Biscuit Bombs
Whenever I’m sad I start spending more and more time wandering around in the wilderness. I’ll walk up mountains and around lakes for hours. I exercise more. I avoid going home, but I also avoid going anywhere with people. I stop responding to messages and texts. I make excuses and cancel plans.
I hide. I eat less. My clothes get louder as I get silent.
I start writing more poetry. My instagram fills with sunsets and song lyrics or goes silent all together. There are fewer new recipes or, when the new recipes are still coming, the posts are short and storyless. My voice feels like it’s trapped in a bubble.
In the wake of the Anthony Bourdain’s death, someone on Twitter asked: How do we know if you need help? And what kinds of things help you? Let’s ask each other that now, while we can.
Coconut Cheesecake Biscuit Bombs
San Diego has these places I affectionately call Liquor Delis and they’re the weirdest thing. As the name implies, they’re liquor stores that are . . . also delis. Maybe you grew up with this and it’s totally normal for you, but to me this is about as weird as the gas station in North Carolina that sells fried chicken (the best fried chicken ever, incidentally). And even weirder than these places existing is the fact that they’re my new favorite thing.