Cute Mugs for Achieving Cozy Queer Aesthetic Goals

Tis the season to wrap both hands around a steaming mug of your hot beverage of choice, step outside into the dewy morning wearing an oversized sweater or duster, and breathe in the fresh fall air like a dramatic gay divorcee looking to begin her life anew at the start of an autumnal rom-com. Or, you know, just the season to curl up in a chair at home with a good gay book and a mug big enough to keep you sustained through multiple chapters. In my household, we have a “get a mug, give a mug” policy where if anyone brings a new mug into the house, we have to give away or otherwise recycle an old mug (some have become pencil cups in my office). Too many mugs is a good problem to have by my book, but in a small kitchen like ours, it can get out of control quickly…

SO NATURALLY, I am window shopping online for mugs I absolutely don’t need 🥰  because I DO need a fall refresh! Here are some cute findings.

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Floral Pumpkin Mug ($16)

I honestly like all three colors so much that I feel like you have to get all three if you’re committing to this mug! I like that they’re pumpkin-shaped but don’t just look like pumpkins. The muted colors and simple floral patterns lend a certain cozy elegance. These could also make cute mini planters for a desk.

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Nature Studies Mug ($10)

This mushroom mug is on sale! There are also two other variations on this mug: one with a pear and one with a butterfly. And you can get matching dessert plates and serve a slice of pie on them. Luxury!

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Evergreen Ceramic Mug ($28)

It simply must be said that Anthropologie snapped with its seasonal ceramic mugs this year. This one would be good for a toddy situation.

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Speckled Stoneware Tree Mug ($7)

For those of you who like to be cozy but in a minimalist way.

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Cream Speckled Sweater Mug ($35)

The craftsmanship on this one is quite lovely, and I think there’s only one available at the moment since it’s homemade by an Etsy seller, so grab it while you can!

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Skeleton Drinking Coffee ($16)

For my spooky gays!

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Knitted Mug ($45)

It’s a mug! That looks like a sweater!!!! Perhaps a good option for the folks who got the Sweater Dad result on my What’s Your Gay Fall Aesthetic quiz.

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Live Laugh Lesbian Mug ($22)

I mean, obviously.

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Blue Mushroom Mug ($41)

I’m realizing it is absurd I don’t yet own a mushroom mug when I have a whole ass mushroom tapestry in my kitchen.

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Cat Tea Mug with Infuser ($29)

As a proud new Cat Mom™, I think I NEED this one.

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Stoneware Speckled Mugs 4 Pack ($13)

A set of four! I’m a sucker for speckled dishware, and I’m therefore a devotee of East Fork Pottery, but it’s at a higher price point, so here is a more budget friendly option.

My New Sunday Tradition Is an At-Home Affogato

feature image by Bennian via Getty Images

Sundays are a time for rituals. Maybe that sentiment is leftover from my religious upbringing, but if that’s the case, then I don’t feel the need to repress it but rather transform it. Make it the thing it needs to be for me now. Not a replacement of Sunday service but a reimagining. Before I worked a more conventional Monday to Friday work week, Sunday rituals were important to me even when I had to fit them around work. They don’t always stay the same forever; it’s more like I go through Sunday tradition phases, small rituals coming and going and coming back into my life depending on my needs and whims at the time. Sometimes these rituals feel like deep, devotional practices pertaining to my creative work: reading a book in bed or writing for a fixed amount of time. Sometimes these rituals are more indulgent and superficial. My latest, which falls into the latter category, is to make myself an affogato.

Is anyone else’s feed inundated with videos of hot, creamy espresso pulled or poured into cold, creamy vanilla gelato? Is it actually a cafe trend right now or is my algorithm targeting me, specifically, and my caffeine fixation and predilection for treats? In any case, I’ve been seeing a lot of affogatos steam my screen, and it was only a matter of time before I started to crave my own.

A few Sundays, I planned to drive to one of my favorite delis in town — Deli Desires, a perfectly named establishment as I do indeed desire it, often — because I saw they had a new special on their drinks board: an affogato. In case the word “affogato” is triggering flashbacks to what the fuck is a negroni sbagliato, an affogato is simply a scoop of gelato (typically vanilla) drowned in a shot of espresso. You eat it with a spoon and then drink the last bits (or at least, that’s my personal order of operations). Sometimes cafes do their own riffs on this very simple combination, as is the case for Deli Desires, which serves its affogato with a scoop of soy butterscotch ice cream (courtesy of another local Orlando treasure, the Filipino ice cream shop Sampaguita). I know this lovely alchemy would have satisfied my Sunday craving, but unfortunately, I never made it there.

You see, it started downpouring. That’s a regular part of life here in Central Florida, especially during this wet time of year. As a transplant, I’m still getting used to the specific seasonal shifts (yes, there are seasons — rainy and not rainy) and chaotic weather whims of this place. I’ve learned from both my partner and our friend group here that there are some times when you just plow forward with your plans, regardless of what the sky might have in store. There are other times when you give up and let nature win, staying inside to avoid whatever surprises it has in store for you. This time, I chose to give up my affogato in favor of remaining indoors. I could always wait and see if things cleared up in a few hours and then decide to venture out.

But it was during that waiting time that it occurred to me, wait a second, I can just make my own affogato. Right here in the comfort of my own home. After all, I own approximately 75 different appliances for making coffee — at least two, specifically, for making espresso, including a fancy espresso machine that pulls double shots as well as a stovetop espresso maker bought impulsively on a hurricane prep grocery run because I realized I could use it to make coffee on my camp stove should we ever lose power during a storm.

The only problem was that I didn’t have any gelato. I like ice cream, but I wouldn’t consider myself an Ice Cream Person. You know who Ice Cream People are! Perhaps you are one! I have a deep love for Ice Cream People, especially because they tend to introduce me to the best ice cream in whatever city I’m in. I’m always down for ice cream, but my preference really is soft serve, and that’s not really something I can have at home, so it always feels like a production to acquire it. All this to say: I didn’t have any vanilla gelato nor any vanilla ice cream period in my freezer. This meant, I’d have to head out into the storm after all, but at this point, I was so thrilled by the idea of an at-home affogato that my situation had shifted into one where braving the elements was indeed necessary. Plus, my Publix is closer than the deli.

First, I wanted to arm myself with information. I did some quick research on the best vanilla ice cream to buy at a grocery store. My research methodology was two-pronged: I Googled it, and I also texted a select sample of friends. Google brought me to a Bon Appetit evaluation of the best store-bought vanilla ice creams. I briefly thought I’d have to pivot to Trader Joe’s as a result. But then one of my friends in the group chat I’d hastily texted about grocery store vanilla offerings — Autostraddle writer and podcaster Christina Grace Tucker, in fact — pointed out I should go all the way in on an affogato and get actual gelato. Talenti is one of the few grocery store gelatos available in most markets. Plus, she added, the Talenti jars are easy to repurpose. I was sold. I wanted something that skewed way more creamy than icy in texture, so gelato it was!

I’d never had Talenti before, so I wasn’t sure how it held up to gelato from an actual specialty shop. I was pleasantly surprised! The texture was exactly what I wanted, and the vanilla flavor was solid, too — not too artificial, too rummy (though I like a bit of a rummy taste to my vanilla), or too sweet. It melded well with the espresso, which I made with Illy Classico beans, my preferred grocery store espresso bean, especially for something like an affogato, because it tends to yield creamy espresso that isn’t bitter. The result was a perfect little cup of partially melted vanilla gelato and toasty espresso.

Ever since, I’ve had an affogato every Sunday. It’s a luxurious treat with a very simple process — my favorite combination. I text a quick photo of it to my group chat or my sister, announcing it’s affogato o’clock, which doesn’t happen at the same hour every Sunday, because my schedule is always unpredictable. Sometimes, in fact, it doesn’t happen until after dinner. I grew up with parents who ended their meals with coffee or cappuccinos, so I’m used to that ritual, too, and am thankfully unaffected by caffeine in the evening.

I recommend you try a Sunday affogato, today or in the future. Or if espresso and ice cream aren’t really your thing, tell me about a Sunday ritual you have or wish to have. ☕️🍨

Have a S’Mores, Have a Brownie, Have a S’mores Brownie

Welcome to the sapphic table, a series of (hopefully!) unfussy seasonal recipes for your farmers market, your CSA bounty — or your grocery store. Today we’re making s’mores brownies to celebrate the last week of summer.

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We were due for a failure.

I am not a professional food blogger. I’m — at best — someone who learned how to cook the same way that a lot of people in their 30s learned how to cook, by reading other food bloggers sharing their lives online. I miss that style of writing, to be honest, and as its faded away while morph into Internet 4.0 or whatever generation of being Very Online faces us these days. I love being in the kitchen, I love cooking, but to create, test, and photograph recipes for work? Who am I kidding?

I started off with the safest bet I could think of, a four-ingredient asparagus tart using pre-made puff pastry that takes about 15 minutes to throw together but took me a week to write and photograph. Then came the a little over one-hour strawberry chocolate “just because I can” cake (that took over a day to photograph alone!), and slowly I started to believe in myself. I thought maybe I could do this. Cobbler. An open-faced Mexican black bean sandwich. Maybe a decade of watching other people cook was going to pay off…. And then came the s’mores brownies.

The idea started simple enough, after all s’mores + brownies is enough of a sell that I don’t think I have to spend a long time describing them here for you to already be on board, right? Three perfect layers: a toasted graham cracker crust, a warm unbelievably chocolate-y brownie, and melted caramelized marshmallow just this edge of dripping down the sides. How else should you spend the last week of summer?

The graham cracker was my first mistake. I lost track of time and it came out just this side of too toasted (especially to withstand another two trips to the oven for the brownie and marshmallow layer each). The brownies simply… would not cook? And I’m talking about a brownie recipe that I have perfected for at least 12 years — the brownies I bake “casually” to impress third dates and new friends, my back pocket recipe — they would not solidify when it mattered most.

The marshmallows are when I almost gave up. They broiled perfectly, gold and melted at the edges, but slicing into them left everything — my fingers, my shirt, and once I took off my shirt my literal bra — covered in a sticky, sugary mess.

But then I ate one. And humming out-loud in my kitchen to no one, I ate one more. I staged this gooey mess of brownies for this article’s photoshoot, certain they were the worst photos I’d ever taken, and — whoops! — two of them fell over, so clearly I ate those as well.

Life is not what’s always expected. Sometimes you will flat out fail. And sometimes, if you’re just lucky enough, those failures will be a beautiful, sticky, chocolate three-layer perfection that you couldn’t possibly see coming.

These s’mores brownies are loosely based on a recipe from The Kitchen, with a few notable exceptions. I lowered the cooking time for the graham cracker layer, to account for it grand total of three trips into the oven. I’ve swapped the brownie recipe out completely for Smitten Kitchen’s favorite brownies (also, my favorite). And I recommend cutting the marshmallows open before broiling them, so they best adhere to the brownies for easiest cutting. Enjoy!

S’mores Brownies

Serves 9 to 16, depending on how you cut them

Ingredients for S’mores Brownies

Ingredients for Graham Cracker Crust

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs (see *note)
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
Special Tool: Parchment Paper

Ingredients for Toasted Marshmallow Brownies

3 ounces unsweetened chocolate, roughly chopped
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1 1/3 cups granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup flour
1 10-ounce bag large marshmallows

*Note: Graham Cracker Crumbs? The most old school solution for making your own graham cracker crumbs is still the best method, which is to pile a bunch of graham crackers into a ziplock bag (or reusable bag, if that’s your jam) and then roll over and whack the hell of it with a rolling pin or hammer, until crumbs form. Keebler also says boxed pre-made crumbs, and those work just as well.

Directions for S’mores Brownies

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Line an 8×8-inch pan with parchment paper, set aside.

In a medium bowl, mix together the graham cracker crumbs, sugar, and salt. Pour in the melted butter and stir with a spoon until all the crumbs are evenly coated with butter. Pour the crumbs into the lined brownie pan, and use your hands or the back of a spoon to press firmly along the bottom into a tight, even layer.

Bake graham cracker layer for 15-20 minutes, until solid and golden brown (if it’s slightly toasty, no worries, it adds to the s’mores vibes). Remove from the oven, and set aside to slightly cool. Raise oven temperature to 350 for brownie layer.

While graham cracker layer cooks and cools, prepare brownie batter.

In a medium dry saucepan over low heat, melt chocolate and butter together until only a couple unmelted butter or chocolate bits remain. It’s key that the pan be bone-dry to start, otherwise you risk the chocolate seizing up as it melts — though with the butter serving as a buffer, that really shouldn’t be a concern. (You can also melt butter and chocolate together in the microwave, microwaving in 30-second bursts and stirring, though surprisingly for a microwave, I find that process to be more fussy!)

Take saucepan off heat, and continue to stir until remaining bits are melted together. Pour butter/chocolate mixture out of saucepan and into a medium bowl.

Whisk your sugar into the butter/chocolate mixture, then eggs, then vanilla and salt. Stir in flour with a spoon until it just disappears.

Pour brownie batter over cooked graham cracker layer, gently spreading it out until it makes an even second layer. Bake brownies for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a fork inserted into the center comes out batter-free (a few moist crumbs is expected with brownies, but you shouldn’t have wet batter clinging anywhere, you know what I mean!).

Remove from the oven, and set aside to slightly cool. Now it’s time to prep the marshmallow layer.

Using a sharp knife, cut marshmallows the long way down the middle. Arrange marshmallows, cut side down, in a close grid over the brownies, keep going until they make an even layer with little-to-no brownie showing underneath.

Turn the oven to broil. Place the marshmallow-covered brownie pan in the oven and broil for 1 to 2 minutes, until the marshmallows are melted and light brown on top. Don’t go anywhere! Watch this process carefully (if your oven light, like mine, is broken — you can even do this process with the oven door ajar if needed), those marshmallows will go from “nothing happening here” to “burned fire hazard” in a blink if you aren’t careful. It should take about 1 minute for golden marshmallows to up to 2 minutes if you prefer a more charred take. Once the marshmallows are your desired color, take the brownies out immediately.

Whew my friend, you have almost made it! You are nearly there! Most brownies you would let cool completely for an even cut, but in this case (ironically) the marshmallows cut easiest while still in a mostly hot and melted state. So here’s what happens next: first, you are going to let the brownies rest in the pan for about 5-10 minutes, you want the brownie still warm but solid enough that you can lift them by their parchment paper onto your counter or a cutting board without them falling apart. Lift carefully, and if they feel a little stuck, run a knife along the edge of the pan to loosen any stuck marshmallow.

Once you have the brownies on the cutting board, carefully peel away parchment paper from the sides. Using the biggest ass knife in your kitchen (you are right now thinking, no Carmen couldn’t have meant that knife, but I did. Use that knife!), slice your brownies to your chosen size. They will be gooey, so you’ll want carefully wipe your knife wit a wet paper towel between cuts.

Serve as a warm gooey mess, and I dare you not to smile.

This Easy Shrimp “Beach Ceviche” Is a Late Summer Flex

A couple summers ago, I started making beach ceviche — ceviche to eat on the beach. I’d always been intimidated by the idea of making ceviche, because the technical process of curing raw fish with citrus seemed like it might leave little room for error. But once I learned that using frozen fish to make ceviche is actually a safe and recommended option, I decided to take a stab at it. I’ve now made my shrimp ceviche a few dozen times for friends and family, and since I’m constantly asked for the recipe, I decided to finally formalize it here!

I like to call my ceviche “Beach Ceviche” because, you guessed it! It’s best eaten on the beach! There’s also a practical version for my tendency to prepare this dish specifically as a beach snack: The process of curing the shrimp with lime juice can vary timing-wise. Sometimes it can take over half an hour. So if I prep the ceviche in a sealable bowl and pop it into my cooler backpack, by the time I’m on the beach, it’s usually ready to go. There isn’t much of a concern with over-curing when it comes to this shrimp ceviche. When working with other fish like tuna or salmon, it’s def possible to let it sit in the citrus too long, yielding tough or chewy fish. I find frozen shrimp to be way more forgiving than other fish, and I’ve let my Beach Ceviche sit and cure in a cooler for over two hours before without compromising the taste or texture.

The ingredients and process for this Beach Ceviche are simple enough that you could definitely whip this up on a beach vacation (so long as you have access to a kitchen) and impress everyone around you with such an upgraded beach snack that blows sliced fruit and a bag of chips out of the water! Just pack a large Tupperware for vacation in case your Airbnb or rental doesn’t have one. But I’ll confess I’ve also “emergency” bought a new sealable bowl at a grocery store while on a beach vacation just to be able to make Beach Ceviche. I’m also lucky enough to live near the beach (and lived even closer the past two summers), so Beach Ceviche really has become a staple in my household, and it quite literally never disappoints! What’s better than eating fresh, citrusy shrimp by the ocean?!

As with a lot of the things I make — even the recipes I make a million times — there’s a lot of room for riffing and customization! If you have specific questions about substitutions you want to make or just questions about the process in general, hit me up in the comments!

Of course, the beach isn’t required for Beach Ceviche. This dish would also be great for a pool party, as an appetizer at a dinner party, in a backyard, etc. Its late-summer vibes are truly immaculate, so now’s a perfect time to give it a whirl!

Beach Ceviche

Serves four

Ingredients for Beach Ceviche

1/2 pound of raw frozen shrimp, thawed with tails removed and cut into 1/2 inch chunks
5-10 limes (see directions for more info)
1 pint cherry tomatoes, quartered
1 small red onion or two shallots, diced
2 scallions, diced
1-2 jalapeños, diced
1 avocado, cut into chunks
Cilantro, chopped
Tortilla chips for serving

Directions for Beach Ceviche

Start by placing your chopped raw shrimp pieces into a large, sealable plastic bowl or Tupperware. I use the third smallest bowl from my Target mixing bowl set, to give you an idea. Next, you’re going to juice your limes with whatever juicing apparatus you have. I somehow have four different tools for juicing citrus, which perhaps makes sense given that I live in Florida. My most effective tool is my KitchenAid attachment, especially when it comes to juicing large quantities.

You need enough lime juice to cover all of the shrimp. It doesn’t need to be swimming in lime juice, but it should all be covered. The number of limes this requires, I find, varies greatly, depending on the quality and size of limes and other factors. One trick for getting more juice out of your citrus is to firmly roll it with your hand against a hard surface before slicing it in half to juice.

This is important: DO NOT USE ANYTHING OTHER THAN FRESH LIME JUICE. Lime juice from the bottle is great for a lot of things in a pinch, but not for ceviche. I made the mistake of trying it once because I had a craving for beach ceviche but was out of limes, and while the shrimp did eventually cure, it took literally 2+ hours. Never again! Use the fresh stuff only!

I usually let the shrimp sit in the lime juice on its own while I do other getting ready for the beach tasks, like sunscreening and picking which of my 75 bathing suits and cover-up combinations I’m going to wear (again, Florida). After about 15 minutes, I return to the ceviche to add the tomatoes, onion, white parts of the scallion, and jalapeño. Give it a stir to mix it all up. You should start to see the shrimp changing color from its translucent raw shade to a more solid white (depending on the type of shrimp, the color can also become a dark pink). Don’t freak out if it’s still looking pretty raw. It’ll get there; I promise.

I do some more beach tasks like packing additional snacks and beverages and looking for my misplaced sunglasses. After about 10 minutes, add the green parts of the scallions, the avocado, and as much chopped cilantro as you desire (or none, if you’re one of the cilantro naysayers!), and give it another stir. Then pop that top on, pack the ceviche in a well insulated cooler, and head to the beach!

By the time you get all set up at the beach, your ceviche should be ready to enjoy with some tortilla chips. I’m partial to the Tostitos Scoops for maximum ceviche scooping capabilities. If you open your ceviche and the shrimp still looks gray-ish and raw, again, don’t panic. Give it another shake to let the lime juice do its thing, and try again in a little bit.

Some notes on modifications

• If you prefer a spicer ceviche, I like to use serrano peppers instead of jalapeños. If you like a more mild ceviche, remove the jalapeño seeds before chopping.
• Additional ingredients you can throw in include chopped mango, chopped watermelon, chopped cucumber.
• You can add pickled red onions if you want a more pickled flavor profile.
• Yes, you can make this vegan! Skip the shrimp and instead use sliced canned hearts of palm. This is the best vegan ceviche hack I’ve personally tried.
• You can really use any tomatoes for this, but I like the slight sweetness of cherry tomatoes, and sometimes I halve them instead of quartering them when I want a slightly chunkier ceviche (and then accordingly chopping everything else a little chunkier to match).
• It’s very rare that I write a recipe that doesn’t call for salt, but I don’t find this ceviche needs salt so long as it’s being enjoyed with an appropriately salty chip accompaniment. But if you feel otherwise, go for it! Tajín could also be fun to play with here!

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If you make Beach Ceviche and snap a pic on the beach, tag me! I want to see! It’ll probably make me immediately want to get my ass to the beach!

Uncommon Pairings: What Wine You Should Drink Based on Your Star Sign

feature image photo by Damien Frost via Getty Images

Welcome back to Uncommon Pairings, a series all about wine! Check out some previous articles if you’re curious about what wine labels mean, if “natural” wine is really natural, or what chips go best with a canned sparkling wine.

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Like many queer people, I love asking what someone’s big three are almost immediately after meeting them. In case there was any doubt, I’m a Sag/Libra/Aries (chaotic gay fancy adventures are very much up my alley!). I thought it might be fun to pick out a wine for each sign, based on what I know of the signs (not much) and what I know of the wines (definitely more than the signs).

Remember to check out your moon and rising if you’re not sold on your sun sign’s wine!

Aries

If you’re craving some big, fiery Aries energy, consider a Chilean Cab Sauv! Chile’s a powerhouse when it comes to wine production, and because one in three wines made in the country is a Cabernet Sauvignon, finding one shouldn’t be too hard. A Cab Sauv is an even match for an Aries’ temperament — juicy and bold at the outset, mellowing out soon after.

Taurus

I’m so jealous of Tauruses! I associate the sign with sensual, earthly pleasures: grass between the toes, sticky ice cream hands, being fed grapes at the beach… I guess this whole list is very summer-coded but that’s because summer is full of pleasure! A Muscadet is the perfect pairing for a Taurus. It’s high acid, green (we need some earth energy), and perfect with seafood in case you wanted to slurp an oyster or two.

Gemini

Geminis get so much hate, but I will depart from tradition here and not contribute to that narrative (this time). Geminis, at their best, are adaptable, playful, and great in group settings — like sparkling wines! Good for almost anything, great for gossip. Try a Sekt if you haven’t yet!

Cancer

I had a tough time picking a wine for Cancers, but ultimately landed on a Viognier. Cancers are emotional, for sure, but they also have these tough exteriors to protect their gentle crab bodies. Viogniers have these intense aromas but are creamy and lush in the mouth and I think that’s very crab!

Leo

Leos are divas, but they’re also so fucking fun. I think it’s only fitting to give them Beaujolais Nouveau! It’s a light, easy-to-drink red wine that is released yearly on Beaujolais Nouveau Day (the third Thursday in November), and accompanied by a huge celebration. A playful spotlight wine feels very Leo!

Virgo

Virgos are a practical bunch, and I think the most practical option in the wine world is actually a non-alcoholic wine. You get all the fun palate pieces of wine, but none of the hangover. Because Virgos have high standards, I wanted to pick a good nonalcoholic wine here. I’m thinking the Eins Zwei Zero (also comes in cans, and they have a rosé too!).

Libra

Libras have excellent taste, and are great at finding harmony. A Provence rosé, without a doubt. The platonic ideal of rosé IMO — a pale pink in the glass, dry and mineral driven. They’re crowd-pleasers, and very up the Libra alley.

Scorpio

Scorpios are so sexy and mysterious! I get very witchy vibes from them, and for some reason also think of the stars? Aglianico is my preferred pairing here: full-bodied, leathery, sultry. Would go great with lingerie and a candlelit tarot reading, and can definitely follow you into the bedroom.

Sagittarius

Given the Sagittarius desire for change and exploring new frontiers, I think it’s only fair to give this sign either a co-ferment or a wine-beer hybrid. The former is a pre-fermentation blend, an old-school technique seeing a resurgence, while the latter could be a wine made with hops or a beer made with grapes!

Capricorn

The world would be far worse without Capricorns! Without them, we’d never get anywhere on time, nor would we update our devices. Never shying away from the hard conversations, Capricorns feel like Nebbiolos to me: high acid and big tannins to put us in our place.

Aquarius

When I think of Aquarius, I think of community, which immediately takes me to wine cooperatives. There are some great wines that come out of wine cooperatives, and I think Aquariuses would love them!

Pisces

Pisces are creative and dreamy, and feel very ethereal! I wanted a wine that felt plucked from the faerie realm and ultimately was torn between two: Sauvignon Blanc and Verdejo. TBH, I refuse to believe that there was no magic involved in Sauv Blanc’s creation.

Hangover Molletes

Welcome to the sapphic table, a series of (hopefully!) unfussy seasonal recipes for your farmers market, your CSA bounty — or your grocery store. Today we’re making molletes, a Mexican open-faced bean and cheese sandwich that’s perfect for summer mornings, summer evenings, or just for when you’re missing your friends.

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The thing about these molletes — a Mexican open-faced bean and cheese sandwich with fresh vegetable salsa and sliced avocado — is that they are not about hangovers at all.

Now, I realize that I named this post “hangover molletes.” For my 30^th birthday, my closest friends and drove to the vineyards on Long Island for a weekend of sharing as many rosé and white wine tastings as possible, playing dirty scrabble by a fireplace, chilly east coast sunset beaches, and somehow randoming upon a local strawberry festival (how??). In the mornings, our group of five would pile into the kitchen to nurse our hangovers. And that was when I was introduced to molletes. Crusty bread lightly buttered at its golden brown edges, saucy black beans seasoned in such a way you will dream about them long after they are gone, cheese to the brim, fresh vegetable salsa, and rich wedges of avocado delicately piled on top. These sandwiches are not about hangovers, they are about friendship.

I couldn’t tell you the last time I needed a hangover cure, to be honest. But lately, I have been missing those friends. We live spread apart now, which happens when you get older and life isn’t defined by late nights pounding through New York City streets and laughter now gets shared in hasty text messages between work meetings instead of last call at the club. My birthday is in June, somehow it is already August, but summer has always been our season. And so we return to molletes, cutely named because I thought “I Miss My Friends Wahhhh!” wouldn’t get as many clicks on a post.

In the years since they were first made for me, I’ve discovered that there is really never a bad time for crisp bread that will make a delicious crackle once you bite in, velvety savory beans, and sweet tomatoes, corn, or bell peppers. Molletes are a deserving brunch food for any occasion (in fact they are often served with a fried egg on top, if that’s your thing), but they also make a filling vegetarian dinner for any summer night that you intend to spend watching TV on your couch or reading a book on your porch. It can be easily scaled up for a crowd or down to a single serving. I do recommend playing your music loud while you’re cooking it — or maybe FaceTime a friend and think of me.

We are doing things slightly differently this week. Traditionally for Sapphic Table installments, there’s a core recipe (or recipes) that I’ve adapted; set recipes are how I’ve best learned how to cook. However, I was taught molletes on my feet and then learned some tricks from the internet later. In place of canned refried beans, I use How Sweet Eats’s Saucy Black Beans which are cooked on a stovetop with onion and green pepper until the beans break down and become ridiculously lush. Molletes are traditionally made on Mexican bolillo rolls, but I’ve never lived someplace where bolillos are common, so I’ve adjusted to ciabatta or whatever crusty bread I can find at the store. As I mentioned earlier, they can be topped with eggs if that is your breakfast sandwich mood. Corn is untraditional and not a necessity, but c’mon — have you ever had fresh corn off the cob in August?? Exactly.

“Hangover” Molletes

Serves two

Ingredients for Molletes

Ingredients for Black Beans

1 can black beans (14 ounce can), drained and rinsed
1/2 cup diced red onion
1/2 cup diced green pepper
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon cumin
Salt
Black pepper
Red pepper flakes
1/2 cup chicken stock (vegetable stock also works if you’re keeping vegetarian)
1/2 tablespoon lime juice

Ingredients for Salsa

1/2 cup diced green pepper
1/2 cup diced red onion
3/4 cup diced cherry tomatoes
2 teaspoons chopped cilantro

Ingredients for Sandwich Assembly 

Crusty bread for two sandwiches (bolillo rolls are traditional, I often use ciabatta)
1-2 tablespoons butter, melted
1 cup Monterey Jack cheese, shredded
1 ear of corn, shucked and kernels removed (or roughly 3/4 cup corn kernels, if you’re not working with fresh)
1 avocado, sliced

*Note: Never shucked and cut off your own corn kernels? My favorite website for learning basic How To’s will always be The Kitchn, and here they are on how to shuck corn and the best ways to cut kernels off the cob.

Directions for Molletes

In a saucepan over medium heat, add the black beans, onion, green pepper, garlic, chili powder, paprika, cumin, salt and red pepper flakes to taste, and a few generous grinds of black pepper. Add stock and lime juice, stir everything all together. Simmer the bean mixture, uncovered, for 10 to 15 minutes. It should slightly bubble, but not reach a boil.

Stir occasionally and notice as the mixture begins to reduce and thicken. You can also speed this process up at the end, as the beans soften, by mashing them slightly with a fork while they cook. After the allotted time, the beans should reach desired texture (I prefer mine chunkier with whole beans remaining, you can also mash them until completely smooth). Set aside to cool.

As the beans cook, cut up your vegetables for salsa if you haven’t yet. Toss them all together in a bowl, set aside.

Brush butter on the cut sides of your bread — if you don’t have a brush, drizzling also works just fine — and place bread, buttered side up, on a baking sheet. Broil until bread is slightly toasted, about one minute. The goal here is firm up the bread so that it can hold up to the bean mixture, so don’t worry about it being overly browned just yet. It’s going back into the oven after we’re done.

Remove from broiler. Lower oven temperature to 350 degrees. Spread bean mixture evenly to the edges of the bread, followed by cheese, and then corn kernels.  Put back into oven until the cheese is fully melted to your liking and the bread has finished toasting, for me that’s usually another 10 minutes. Slice your avocado.

Top each mollete with salsa and avocado slices. Serve with fried eggs or hot sauce if that’s your thing. Devour.

Slime Lovers, It’s Our Time: Okra Season Is Here

In the produce world, every seat at the Cool Kids Table belongs to summer produce. I’ve written at length about how much I love tomato season, but honestly? I love almost all summer veggies, and could even be convinced to give pattypan squash another chance if I really had to. I think this is the best time of year to go to the farmer’s market — I block out my Google Calendar every Saturday morning to make sure I make it on time! After all, the good produce sells out early and we only have so many summer Saturdays. Because I’m going every week, I’ve been able to keep a pulse on when a veggie is officially in season in this newly “humid subtropical” climate — and this past week, I finally saw okra at the market!

Okra is an oft-overlooked star in the summer produce pile. I know it’s supposedly a divisive food, but the only valid opinion here is that okra is delicious. If you have a hard time with slimy foods, I’m willing to concede that okra requires a bit more care, but I don’t think you should write it off entirely! There are ways to make okra less slimy. And, if you’re into slimy (I learned recently the technical term here is “mucilaginous”) things like oysters or cacti, okra is the perfect match for you. Also, sometimes the okra slime is exactly what a dish needs, like in the case of gumbo!

What To Look For

If you’re in a veggie rut, try picking up some okra the next time you’re at the market. Okra’s a summer veggie, sometimes called lady’s fingers (gay), and can be green or burgundy. The color doesn’t really matter if you’re cooking the okra, because burgundy okra turns green with exposure to heat, but if you’re eating it raw or just have a penchant for funky colored veggies, burgundy is cool. If you’ve never purchased okra before, look for smaller pods with firm ends. My grandma’s trick is to see if the tips break off easily when bent, but I got in trouble the last time I did that so I have not done it since!

Anyway, now that we’re in okra season, here are some of my favorite ways to eat okra!

Sauteed, Western Indian Style

Okra is one of my comfort foods, especially when it’s made the way my mom makes it. She didn’t make a lot of Indian food when I was growing up, but okra was one constant that I could count on. Other subcontinental versions of this dish sometimes add in onions and/or tomatoes, but I like mine dry! I don’t have an exact recipe (no one in my family uses measurements) but this is a close approximation and will get you there, and as a bonus, takes less than ten minutes to cook!

After you’ve washed and dried your okra, cut it into bite-size pieces. Toast ground cumin and ground coriander (1/2 tsp each) in olive oil, then toss the okra in and coat it. Sprinkle some turmeric on top (1/4-ish tsp) and some chili powder (to taste), then stir to combine and let that cook for five to seven minutes, tops. Turn the heat off, sprinkle some salt on top to taste, and that’s literally it! Whenever I make this for my partner and I, there are no leftovers!

Quick-Pickled

If you’re anti-slime, try pickling your okra whole. The more cuts you make into okra, the more slimy it’ll get – so zero cuts means less slime. Plus, you get a cool Bloody Mary topping out of it! If you have a quick pickle recipe for cucumbers that you like, you can just use that on your okra as you would any other vegetable. If you need some inspiration, check out this recipe, and then make a pickle plate with some farmer’s cheese and some crackers to round it out. And, if you’re feeling fancy, maybe some dried apricots to balance out the salty and sour with a little sweet!

Stewed

You might have heard the phrase “if it grows together, it goes together”. I don’t know if that holds water in every possible scenario, but it definitely rings true when it comes to okra and tomatoes. You could follow this recipe, which calls for salting and vinegaring the whole okra pods before they’re cooked, or go this route and add in some bacon instead.

Fried

I’m not talking about breaded deep-fried okra here, though as someone dating a Southerner, I do have to admit that breaded okra is delicious! I’m talking about thinly sliced fried okra with a little sprinkle of lemon and salt on top — or maybe some chaat masala if you’re like me. I will admit that slicing okra lengthwise is hard, but I promise it’s worth it. After the thin okra strips are fried, you’re left with these potato chip-esque salty crunchy bites. If you’re looking for a recipe, check out this one (though I’ve never had fried okra with sage) or try this one — it turns the fried okra strips into a salad!

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If you’re not into any of the above, try stuffing your okra, making it into gumbo (I guess this is technically a stew), or even grilling it! Okra is versatile, and the perfect addition to your summer grocery list IMO.

Messy Kitchen: Could You Set the Croissant Alarm?

Welcome to Messy Kitchen, a Sunday smorgasbord of micro essays about my favorite things I ate this week.

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Chocolate Croissant with Bacon

These lines from the Time Zones Week essay “We Call It Time Travel” by Vanessa Pamela Friedman echo in my head, often: “I think about this all the time. How a relationship is its own time zone.”

I especially think of them when I ask Kristen: Could you set the croissant alarm?

This is part of our relationship language, our relationship time zone. The croissant alarm refers to an 11 p.m. alarm set on her phone meant to remind her to take two of the Trader Joe’s frozen chocolate croissants out of their box in the freezer and set them on a cookie sheet in the oven to proof over night. My favorite mornings are the ones when puffed up croissants sit waiting to bake in our oven but I wake up forgetting they’re there, the mornings I go downstairs to a special surprise.

I didn’t know what “proof” in baking meant until we met, until she showed me The Great British Baking Show during the long stretch of months we were stuck in Las Vegas. I’d never tasted these croissants before we met either, but she wasn’t the one who introduced me to them. We tasted them for the first time together, at my parents’ house, my siblings and parents all shocked we hadn’t tried one of Trader Joe’s greatest creations.

The picture isn’t doing it justice, but to be fair, that’s partially because Kristen and I always skip the egg wash step, much to the chagrin of my family who insists it’s necessary. I don’t like using up an egg! In this economy?! So even though the croissant above looks a little mottled, I promise it’s delicious. Trader Joe’s has cracked some sort of code with these bad boys. They taste about as close to a bakery’s offerings as you can get at home without, you know, actually making them from scratch. I like mine with a side of bacon, a classic sweet and salty combination.

My parents always have at least one box in their freezer at all times, and so do we. Kristen proposed to me on Christmas morning in the downstairs bedroom of my parents’ townhouse, and after we told them, we ate chocolate croissants and drank champagne. My three-year-old niece sucked all the chocolate out of hers and then wanted more.

Could you set the croissant alarm? I ask on some days when we’re back home in Orlando. There’s something about the time between the craving and the sweet treat that I enjoy. It’s a planned little joy, something you have to wait for. When I ask her to set the alarm, I’m not saying I want a chocolate croissant now but that I know I’ll want one tomorrow. I like to look forward.

Grilled Fish and Lemon with Pickled Veggies, Baba in St. Pete

If anyone cared that I started just picking the flesh off this fish with my hands and eschewing my fork to eat it, they didn’t say anything. We were at the Greek restaurant Baba in St. Petersburg the day after Kristen and I had a joint book event at Book + Bottle, a wine shop and bookstore in downtown St. Pete. We made new friends, all of us queers living in Florida, which does come with a certain special bond. Our book event, in fact, was called the Big Gay Book Party, and it attracted all the right people. We drank funky, effervescent wines in deep oranges and pinks and talked about books, Florida, the summer heat, the things we like in a place others think should be impossible to like.

And the next day, Kristen and I split this fish. It was delicious, especially its crispy salty skin, but there were a million little bones, and I finally said fuck it and started eating it with my hands because it was easier. I knew Kristen wouldn’t mind. She loves when I go a little feral with food. I go full cartoon cat mode with a whole fish in front of me. The server kept telling us to take our time, no rush, have a nice long dinner, he didn’t need to turn the table over quickly. So we did. We ate slow, and I almost wish we’d gone even slower. I could have stayed there all night.

Anchovy Snack Plate and Gazpacho

I whipped up this dinner when we got back from our St. Pete weekend because I was mostly just trying to use stuff up from the fridge and have a nice laid-back summer night where I didn’t have to turn the oven on. Before our trip, I’d thrown half a baguette and a box of tomatoes in the fridge (normally, I’d never store tomatoes in the fridge because it kills their flavor, but I didn’t want anything to go bad while we were away). So I took out the bread, sliced it into rounds, drizzled it with olive oil and baked them into crostini. I threw the tomatoes in a bowl with onion, citrus vinegar, olive oil, and the heel of the baguette, and blended it with my immersion blender, seasoning with garlic salt and cayenne pepper.

I am obsessed with Fruits de Mer’s white anchovies, which have a much softer flavor and texture than regular tinned anchovies as they’re packed in vinegar and oil and are not cured. Even if you think you don’t like anchovies, I think you should try out white ones. I threw the last remnants of a bag of arugula on my snack tray and sprinkled goat cheese crumbles on top. And I’m a firm believer that all snack plates should have at least one variety of chip. This time, I opted for a classic Lay’s salt & vinegar. We spread goat cheese on the crostini and then topped with some arugula and several silvery anchovies, and it felt like fancy foraging. Chips dipped into gazpacho is also top tier, because let’s be real, isn’t gazpacho basically salsa soup?

P.S. IS this a Girl Dinner? I think I’d prefer to call it a Dyke Dinner.

A Peach Blueberry Cobbler for the Peak of Summer

Welcome to the sapphic table, a series of (hopefully!) unfussy seasonal recipes for your farmers market, your CSA bounty — or your grocery store. Today we’re making a peach blueberry cobbler that’s so good, I ate it cold from it’s pan at 3am.

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I have tried to write — and deleted! — the intro to this post at least three times now. I thought about calling this cobbler “insomnia cobbler” because I found myself eating it at 3a.m. cold from the pan while watching poorly edited reruns of Sex and the City. I considered “magic cobbler,” as it is often called across the internet for the magical way that the fruit sinks into the cobbler topping during baking, switching places as one rises and the other falls. But the best thing I can say is to cut right to the chase: this cobbler is the perfect cross-section of messy, juicy, summer fruit nestled in a cloud-like topping that’s somewhere between a buttery pancake and a just sweet enough biscuit. You want it.

A thing about me is that I love cobblers in the summer, which feel like all the best parts of pie (butter, sweet comforting smells of cinnamon, and fruit) without the pain of spending multiple hours fiddling with pastry dough that has to remain cold to create flakes, but warm enough to remain pliable, in a 90 degree kitchen that is too fucking hot for either. Cobblers are inviting, they encourage lopsided smiles and that “hhhmmmmm” sound people make when the food is just too good, pointing at the plate while they eat. And if you pair a still a touch too warm cobbler with vanilla ice cream, allowing the ice cream to melt into all the nooks and crannies of fruit and topping until it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins — well, in that case, you have a friend in me for life.

Now this cobbler is indeed magic. Not just because of the cool science experiment where the fruit — starting its journey sitting on top of the cobbler batter – melts and sinks while it cooks, creating a rich syrup that envelopes the bottom and sides like velvet.

And it’s not just magic because it is as delicious fresh and hot from the oven, when the pancake-biscuit topping is impossible light and soft, but also crisp at the edges, as it is ice cold directly from the fridge, when the butter of the topping becomes dense and rich, nearly the texture of a fudge cake.

No, this cobbler is magic because no matter which summer fruit I have paired it with (thus far strawberries, then cherries, now peaches and blueberries) – it is uniquely delicious every time. As you can probably tell from my opening love letter soliloquy, I’m someone who tries out a new cobbler recipe nearly every summer, so I know of which I speak, and this baby is running up on GOAT status. But I gotta say, peaches and blueberries remain my fav.

I was first introduced to this recipe from The New York Times Cooking, which quizzically calls it a “Pudding Cake” but to each their own. Most notably, I swapped out their suggested strawberries for my favorite couple. I recommend lime juice for lemon, and I also replaced their lemon zest for cinnamon — because I believe if you’re going to turn on your oven when the temperature outside is boiling, your house should get to smell damn good.

Peach Blueberry Cobbler for Peak Summer

Serves four

Ingredients for Peach Blueberry Cobbler

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 ounces blueberries (for me this came to a little over 1/2 cup)
9 ounces peaches, cut into chunks (I used three very small, early season Peaches that haven’t hit their full size just yet. I’d expect this would be roughly 1 1/2 medium-to-large peaches, look at photos for an idea of blueberries-to-peaches fruit ratio)
1/2 teaspoon lime or lemon juice
3/4 cup granulated sugar
Salt
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1-2 teaspoons cinnamon (dealer’s choice)
1/3 cup milk
1 1/4 cups boiling water
Powdered sugar, for serving

Directions for Peach Blueberry Cobbler

Pre-heat your oven to 425 degrees. Place your butter in the bottom of a 8-to10-inch oven safe pan of your choice (cake pan, deep dish pie plate, a small roasting pan would even work — as long as whoever you use is at least 2 inches deep). Put pan in oven while its warming, melting your butter. This is a two birds-one stone approach to cooking.

Once the butter has melted, swirl it along bottom and sides of pan to coat, then pour the butter into a cup or anything large enough to eventually mix with milk, which we’ll get to in one second.

In a medium bowl, add your fruit, 1/2 teaspoon of lime/lemon juice (whichever is your preference), 1/4 cup granulated sugar, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Toss it all together until the sugar has coated the fruit. Set aside so that the sugar gathers up the fruit juices and becomes syrupy. This will happen naturally while you do other things.

In a separate medium bowl, mix together the flower, baking powder, cinnamon, the remaining 1/2 cup sugar, and 1/2 teaspoon of salt.

Return to your butter. Mix milk into the melted butter. Slowly pour the butter mixture into the dry ingredients. Stir with a spoon until everything’s combined — the batter will be thick, but spreadable, like soft cookie dough.

Transfer your batter into your buttered oven safe pan and spread into an even layer (I sometimes have to push everything down a bit with my spoon and force it out to the sides, but it works out easily). Arrange fruit over batter, making sure peaches are cut side down. Press them slightly into the batter for safe keeping. Pour any remaining syrup over the top.

Here comes the part that will make you feel like a mad scientist! Boil your water. Once boiling, pour water over the top of your cobbler, the fruit will float and there will be steam everywhere and it is a lot of fun.

OK! Now put your masterpiece into the oven. Bake until the cake is golden brown on top and the sauce has thickened and bubbles along the sides, about 25 to 27 minutes.

Dust with powder sugar, serve it warm (but obviously not so hot that you’re burning your mouth with boiling fruit!).

Four Three-Ingredient Dips to Whip Up While Gay Gossiping

I am incapable of having friends over without feeding them in some way. Even if it’s a last minute hang or my friend has somewhere they need to be and can only swing by for a moment, I have to serve something. It’s just who I am. I love to catch up and talk shit with my friends over a little bite. And while sometimes I like to cook elaborately for my pals, other times, I just want to focus on the gossip and keep it simple in the kitchen.

This summer, I’ve been getting into simple chip and dip situations for casual hangs. You can’t go wrong with chips and dip! The following four only require three ingredients a piece and can be whipped up while you’re already delving into whatever hot gay goss you’re dying to talk about. It’s Leo season; lean into chaos.

Here are four easy, breezy summer dips that’ll take your porch/yard/stoop/patio hang to the next level!

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Buffalo Bean Dip

1 can of cannellini beans
1/4 cup of buffalo sauce
2 tablespoons of bleu cheese crumbles, plus more for topping

Add beans, sauce, and cheese to a blender and blend until smooth. Add more cheese on top and serve with corn chips (I’m currently obsessed with the Trader Joe’s ones). If you like a thicker dip, strain the liquid from your can of beans before blending. But I like leaving the liquid in, because while it yields a thinner dip, the texture is really smooth, almost fluffy.

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Marinara Goat Cheese Dip

24 oz of marinara
8 oz goat cheese log, sliced into circles
4 basil leaves, cut into strips

You’ll need to turn on your oven for this one, but I promise it’s still very simple. Preheat your oven to 350 the second your pals walk through the door, start gossiping, and then before you know it, your oven will be ready to cook up this cheesy dip that’ll make your kitchen smell amazing. You can use store-bought jarred marinara for this bad boy or any leftover homemade marinara you might have in your freezer or fridge. I somehow always have leftover marinara in my freezer/fridge — can anyone relate? That leftover sauce is great for pasta, lasagna, or eggplant parmesan, but it’s also great for a last minute dip. Pour it into an oven-safe dish (I like to use a mini cast iron for this), throw the goat cheese discs in, and bake for just ten to fifteen minutes. If you want to pop the broiler on for a minute to get some toasty browned bits on your cheese, go for it! You can also sub fresh mozzarella for the goat cheese if that’s more your jam (in which case, I definitely recommend finishing off under the broiler). Add the basil strips after you take it out of the oven and serve with a sliced baguette or a thick cracker like the garlic naan ones from Trader Joe’s. It’s like deconstructed pizza, really.

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Trout Dip

1 can of Fishwife rainbow trout
1 cup of sour cream
1 tablespoon of fresh dill, chopped or torn

Where my tinned fish heads at! As a reminder, A+ members get 15% off all Fishwife products, a discount I intend to use ASAP for their new sardine release. But my favorite Fishwife offering of the moment is the smoked rainbow trout, which I like to use for this ultra simple fish dip. Just combine the sour cream and trout (plus its oil) in a bowl and then top with dill, and that’s it! It’s definitely the easiest to whip up of all these dips, and I like to serve it with at least two kinds of potato chips. Here, we’ve got a classic Lay’s salt and vinegar (the best salt and vinegar chip if you ask me; fancy brands can’t compare!) and the Trader Joe’s ghost pepper chips that I like for their little kick but also latticed structural integrity! Also, I promise this post is not sponsored by Trader Joe’s; they just have top-notch snacks!

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Clam Dip

1 can of minced clams
1 cup of sour cream
1 tablespoon of chopped parsley

This is basically a clam version of the trout dip, but I know fancy tinned fish products can be cost prohibitive, and you can find cans of clams at your regular grocery store for a decent price. While I like chopped clams for clam pasta, minced works best for a dip. For this one, you’re going to want to strain the clams first, because while clam juice is tasty, it’ll make your dip too watery. I like to reserve the juice to use in a pasta sauce or as a secret ingredient in my bloody mary mix. Combine the clams and sour cream in a bowl and then top with parsley (or another soft herb of your choosing). This one also works with a variety of potato chips.

Messy Kitchen: I’ve Been Making Clam Pasta for Nearly a Decade, and It’s Different Every Time

Welcome to Messy Kitchen, a Sunday smorgasbord of micro essays about my favorite things I ate this week. This week, it’s short. One thing that’s always the same, and one thing that’s a constant but different every time. You can pick your own metaphor adventure, I think.

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Fried Mozzarella, Olive Garden

I wish I could say the reason the Olive Garden fried mozzarella didn’t make my ranking of mozzarella sticks in 2019 was due to a matter of taxonomy. They are not technically mozzarella sticks — in shape or in name. They are more like fried mozzarella pillows, and I would indeed like to rest my head upon one.

The love of my life loves Olive Garden, and she has sown a love of Olive Garden into me. It is everything I want it to be, every time, as constant as my love for her, and I know that’s cheesy to say, but we’re little talking about cheese — the food and the general vibe of Olive Garden, which is all cheese literally and figuratively. Even the cheese comes with cheese, as you can see from the photo above. There’s no such thing as subtle at Olive Garden. There’s no such thing as holding back.

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Clam Pasta

I realized recently I’ve been making clam pasta for almost a decade. The origins of the recipe I first used are unexpected. I heard Chelsea Peretti talking on her podcast nine years ago about a family recipe for super simple clam pasta — was it her mother’s or her grandmother’s? I can no longer recall — using canned clams, a whole onion, white wine, lemon. I jotted the recipe in my Notes app and made it for a boy. This was before I made my own recipes up in my head, when I was still learning by absorbing from others. Copying others in more ways than one. I can’t remember actually eating the First Clam Pasta though. Even now, it took me a second to remember when and where my clam pasta ritual started. Then I remembered the podcast; I remembered the boy. I remembered the shitty can opener that could barely break through the seal of the clam tins, how I cut my finger. But I can’t remember how that first bowl tasted, if I used Kraft parmesan or splurged for something nicer. If I had to guess, I bet I used Kraft. Sometimes you just gotta go with what you’ve got.

In all my nine years of making clam pasta, it’s never exactly the same as the bowl that came before. I’ve done it with fresh clams, round littlenecks choked with sand that must be purged before cooking, their little bodies opening in steam. I prefer canned though. Sometimes I use minced, sometimes chopped. Sometimes I splash a dry white wine in to deglaze the onions and garlic in their buttery tack, but sometimes lemon juice is all I’ve got, and it does the trick. Sometimes, most times, I have a heavy hand with the red pepper flakes the onions and garlic simmer in for an extra kick. Sometimes I top it with arugula, because a fistfull of arugula is an underrated pasta topping. I have no loyalty to a pasta shape; I hear most like linguine with their clams, but I think any noodle has its individual merits.

Clam pasta is my comfort food, even though I never make it the same exact way twice. Clam pasta has become, I think, one of my fiancé’s comfort foods, too. She hasn’t said those words exactly, but it’s so often her answer when I ask her what she’d like for dinner, especially after a long day, a hard week. In fact, it’s one of the only things she ever requests, usually deferring to me when it comes to deciding what we’ll eat. She likes to defer to me, and I like it, too. But I also like when she asks for something specific, especially when it’s clam pasta. It’s so easy, and at this point, I can make it without thinking much at all, not a memorized recipe but a memorized set of overarching requirements, all slightly mutable. But the shifts come as naturally as if I were working from the same precise recipe every time.

This time, I made it with campanelle, and I used minced garlic from a jar rather than fresh, because my hands were tired that night. In a pan, I melted butter, toasted panko, added the golden bits to a small bowl with chopped parsley and sea salt and lemon zest. We spooned the crunchy, bitey topping onto our bowls and sprinkled shaved parmesan along with it. I almost accidentally overcooked the pasta; I always almost accidentally overcook the pasta.

Comfort food, I suppose, implies consistency. Comfort, I suppose, implies consistency. But there’s a difference between comfort and pleasure. There’s a difference between comfort and happiness. Comfort can sometimes lull us into a sameness, make us overly dependent on things that feel good for a moment but don’t actually move us forward. Maybe clam pasta isn’t our comfort food; it’s our happy food. And yes I know I’m being cheesy again — the happy as a clam of it all. But it’s true that my clam pasta keeps changing with me, has become something new to be shared with someone new.

She likes extra lemon, extra parmesan. I like to watch her eat it all up.

Every single time, always something that tastes approximately the same but looks a little different, has something about it that’s different, in color or in shape. There’s pleasure in it now, which is so much more than comfort.

Uncommon Pairings: Natural Wine, Explained

feature image by Alexander Spatari via Getty Images

Welcome back to Uncommon Pairings, a series all about wine! In the past few months, we’ve covered identifying tasting notes, making sense of wine labels, and (important) deciding if your wine is still good to drink. Today, we’re going to explore natural wine: what it is, what it isn’t, and why it’s seemingly flying off the shelves now.

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It’s getting easier to find natural wine. These days, it seems like every small plates wine bar I enter has at least one natural wine on its list, if not a dedicated section of just natural wines. There are entire stores that solely stock natural wine for customers who are thirsty for something different and unconventional. It might seem like this natural wine renaissance began within the past decade, but it actually traces its roots to France in the mid-20th century. And if we’re talking about natural wine, and not the movement around it? Well, that’s been around forever. Natural wine is how wine used to be made millennia ago, before our ancestors started tinkering with the wine process.

Let’s back up and define natural wine, or at least, try our best to. Unlike “organic” or “vegan”, natural wine isn’t an official designation. Instead, it’s more of a set of guidelines around low-intervention farming and production, with winemakers trying to get as close to pure fermented grape juice as possible. RAW WINE, a community of low-intervention winemakers (who also happen to organize these giant wine fairs globally), describe the wine they celebrate as wine made “without the use of synthetic fertilisers, pesticides, herbicides, or fungicides”. Natural wine is low-intervention wine, so some of the more modern winemaking techniques like using egg whites to filter wine or adding sulfites for preservation aren’t really a thing in the natural wine world.

Despite its name, natural wine isn’t necessarily better for you. It’s still a beverage that has alcohol in it, a beverage that can still give you a hangover. It sometimes has a lower ABV than more traditional wines, but that’s not a guarantee. I think the appeal of natural wine is that it’s more playful than traditional wine, and certainly allows more room for experimentation than wines that have to follow strict rules (like the ones we covered in the piece on wine labels). Also, natural wine labels are cute(r)!

You can find natural wine online, or you can buy directly from a single producer’s online shop if you know what you’re looking for (check out the producers who attend ABV if you need some inspo!). IRL wine shops across the country sell natural wine, too. Some to consider: Crocodile Wine in Asheville, NC, Grapefruit Wines in Hudson, NY, Palm City in San Francisco, CA (also sells hoagies!), Paradis Books + Bread in Miami, FL — honestly, there are so many! Your local wine shop might also carry at least a few, even if it’s not a dedicated natural wine shop, and if they don’t, they can point you in the direction of a wine shop that does. Also, Trader Joe’s definitely sells at least one natural wine (a pet-nat).

It’s true that sometimes natural wines are decidedly Not Good. I am of the opinion that sometimes the line between “funky” and “bad” gets blurred in the natural wine world. But most of the time, the natural wines I’ve had — and I drink almost exclusively natural wine these days — have been exceptional, and in some cases, mind-blowing. There are producers who are cofermenting grapes with other fruit, others who are turning to historically overlooked grapes and seeing what magic can come from them. The natural wine movement is still very much in its infancy, and I’m excited to see where it goes.

Messy Kitchen: I Should Probably Finally Learn How To Shuck Oysters

Hi, and welcome to Messy Kitchen, a new Sunday series I’m doing where I’ll highlight three to four things I ate that week, paired with mini essays, recipes, and other fun things like playlists and reading recommendations. I can pair just about anything with food.

These dishes will sometimes be things I made, sometimes prepackaged snacks from the grocery store, sometimes things made for me, sometimes things eaten out. Much like the way I run my kitchen at home, there are very few rules. I will try to occasionally take photos that are beautiful, aspirational. But I am far from a food content creator, though I admire them and follow many. If this series is meant to be an honest look at the way I make and eat food, then it can’t be too artfully done — at least not all the time. Every once in a while, I know a thing or two about plating and about staging/framing the mise en scène of my table.

Think of this like those What I Eat in a Day/Week TikToks/Reels — but instead of a video, written word, and instead of carefully curated and stylish, chaotically curated and inelegant. Yes, I have an aesthetic, and the aesthetic is mess. It’s sloppy angles and spilled sauce and oil-stained tablecloth. Dig in.

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Summer Sunset Salad (Beet, Stone Fruit, Tomato, and Greek Yogurt)

Of course, after all that preamble, I’m now presenting what is easily the most gorgeous thing I’ve made in months. It was actually one of the first things I made in my own kitchen in months period. I took an extended break from cooking — my longest in a while — when my brain was too staticky to be trusted around things that can burn. When I started again, I kept things simple, not so much cooking as arranging, a task that felt easily accomplished. Low risk, high reward. This was a perfect summer salad and so quick to make! It could easily dazzle a date or a dinner party despite being extremely simple. Here is my recipe for what I’m calling the Summer Sunset Salad:

1 package Trader Joe’s steamed and peeled beets, sliced into half moons
1 individual portion plain Greek yogurt
2 plumcots, sliced into half moons
8 oz cherry tomatoes, quartered
2-3 sprigs of fresh dill, chopped or torn (I prefer to tear my herbs)
Everything Bagel seasoning

Spread the yogurt on a plate and then arrange the beets, plumcots, and tomatoes however you like! I went for a sunset-inspired design, but you can really do it however you want. Then top with fresh dill and seasoning. Serve with a large spoon.

I got all of these ingredients at Trader Joe’s, which ended up being very cost effective. Their steamed and peeled ready-to-go beets are divine! I love beets, but working with them from raw is a lot of messy work, and while yes I do like mess in my kitchen, I also like convenience from time to time. Most pre-packaged beets you encounter at the grocery store are pickled, which isn’t quite the right flavor profile for this particular summer salad (though I am happy to recommend a pickled beet salad in a future installment of this series). I hear Costco also sells pre-cooked, peeled beets. You can substitute the plumcots for any stone fruit, and I recommend using fruit that isn’t overripe so that it maintains a firm texture similar to the beets. You could get even more colorful with this by using a mix of different color cherry tomatoes. And you could easily swap out the Everything seasoning for your favorite seasoning of choice. This would also be good with some chopped walnuts, but I made it last-minute with things I already had on hand and unfortunately didn’t have any nuts other than almonds, which I don’t think would have the same effect.

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Mozzarella Sticks and Marinara, Neptune Diner

These mozzarella sticks were good, but I wish they’d been better.

I’ve written about them before — sort of. I once ranked all the mozzarella sticks I’ve eaten, a project that began as a pitchy piece of humor writing but turned into something else. A eulogy of sorts, for a relationship and for the mozzarella sticks I was moving away from. My beloved mozzarella sticks belonged to Neptune Diner II in Brooklyn, and my sister and I used to always say we had to go to the original Neptune Diner in Astoria but never did. Finally, this summer, I went to Neptune Diner THE FIRST with my best friend, who lives nearby. At eight in the morning, I ordered these mozzarella sticks as an accompaniment to my traditional diner breakfast. It was a day of many firsts: my first trip to Neptune Diner I, my first Morning Mozzarella Sticks, my first glass of sherry — had many hours later at El Pingüino in Greenpoint, which I highly recommend, especially for happy hour.

The mozzarella sticks were good, but they weren’t the ones I remembered. This could be attributed, perhaps, to a difference in ingredients between Neptune Diner II and its older sister. But more likely it’s because the setting I usually enjoyed these mozzarella sticks was not over breakfast before work but rather minutes after hopping out of a car on the way home from being out at the bar with friends, my ride home perfectly timed to the delivery guy ringing my buzzer. I once ate these mozzarella sticks so fast I burned my entire mouth. So when I sent my sister a photo of these breakfast mozz sticks, she promptly texted: did you burn your mouth?

I kind of wish I had.

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Oysters with Salmon Roe and Crème Fraîche

When my friend James makes food for my Orlando friend group, it feels like we’re in a Nora Ephron novel or a Nancy Meyers movie. He and his fiancé Alicia are some of the most generous people I’ve ever met when it comes to wining and dining their friends. Nights at their house are a flurry of charcuterie, grilled meats, fresh seafood, sauces that took all day. Sometimes, we’re celebrating something specific, sometimes we’re just gathering for no real reason. Every time, it’s a lavish affair with many courses, many homemade condiments, and many drinks, often mixed up with love and fire by our friend Kristopher. I expect these dinner parties will show up a lot in this series; they are a perfect contained snow globe of everything I love about food: community, connection, personal stories and histories, good smells and good tastes, sure, but good company above all else.

At the most recent gathering, there was the usual massive spread of intricate dishes. This one was the most simple but the one that lingered on my tongue long after. Raw oysters, shucked with impressive effort by James, and topped with juicy pearls of salmon roe, a dollop of crème fraîche, and a squeeze of lemon. This is like candy to me. Salty, creamy, decadent. I could have eaten three dozen. I should probably finally learn how to shuck oysters. My fiancé Kristen bought me a fancy oyster knife for Christmas. But it’s also nice to watch someone else shuck. It’s violent, taxing work for such a delicate bounty.

Mac and Cheese To Eat Out of a Pot in Your Underwear

Welcome to the sapphic table, a series of (hopefully!) unfussy seasonal recipes for your farmers market, your CSA bounty — or your grocery store. Today we’re making a single serving stovetop mac-and-cheese perfect for eating out of its pot in your underwear. Technically it’s not seasonal, but hey you could always pair it with a salad.

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I know that Mac and Cheese seems more like a fall recipe, but hear me out. You know those muggy nights that seem to only be capable of happening in the summer; the kind of nights when sheets of rain pour against your windows, and all you want to do is strip down to your underwear and empty out everything from our head??

Ok great, then you know the only thing that can be reliably called upon, the only way to achieve that immortal bliss, is to immediately pour a glass of white wine, take off all of your clothes and stand in the middle of your kitchen while eating a pot of creamy, delicious — if ever so slightly salty — melted cheese, luxuriously dressed over pasta in exactly 15 minutes or less from when you first had the idea.

If it’s just me and you have never not once in your life had such an urge, don’t tell me.

For the rest of us, this is a Mac and Cheese recipe built for impulsiveness, cravings, and comfort.

It’s not the decadent, bronze, smooth, perfectly baked Mac and Cheese that takes over an hour to make and is 100% best served once the leaves have changed and you need a blanket to stay warm. No, this is rushed and unpolished (though I find elegance in its messiness) — a beautiful meeting of those nostalgic blue Kraft boxes from after school specials and the trendy adult cacio e pepes that have overtaken the menus of fancy Italian restaurants everywhere. It’s for when you need cheesy pasta RIGHT NOW and nothing else will do.

When I started this column, I imagined sticking to “seasonal” recipes that used up my love of farmer’s markets, vegetables, and fruit. And yes, technically speaking, stovetop Mac and Cheese is not that. However, I can tell you, from personal experience, that if you pair this Mac and Cheese with some freshly sliced sweet summer tomatoes on the side and a nice chunk of crusty bread, your eyes will roll back in your head and you will reconsider everything you once knew in life. Just a little tip from me to you.

Like all things that come with being perpetually single but loving to cook, it’s actually difficult to find an appropriately pared down Mac and Cheese recipe for just one person. Deb Perelman’s comes the closest to my needs, though I’ve taken a few liberties. I’ve swapped out her parmesan for a sharp cheddar because I don’t see any reason to mess with a Mac and Cheese classic (though I keep Deb’s heavy hand for pepper, to give it that aforementioned cacio e pepe edge). I use slightly more butter, because who are really we fooling here? And finally, I sub some of the flour for cornstarch. Years of trial and error have taught me that a little cornstarch will keep your cheese sauce extra creamy, even as it cools.

Mac and Cheese To Eat Out of a Pot in Your Underwear

Serves one

Ingredients for Single Serving Mac and Cheese

4 ounces short, chunky, and twisty pasta of your choice (I used bowtie/farfalle, and have you ever noticed how hard it is to measure out dry pasta when you don’t have a scale? I find this visual guide from The Kitchn to be really helpful!)
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 teaspoon cornstarch (see *note for alternative)
1 1/2 teaspoons all-purpose flour
1/2 cup milk
Many grinds of black pepper
Salt
1/2 cup (1 ounce or 30 grams) shredded sharp cheddar cheese

*Note: Don’t have cornstarch hanging around?  You can substitute the 1/2 teaspoon cornstarch for an additional 1/2 teaspoon of flour, bringing the total amount of flour to two teaspoons total.

Directions for Single Serving Mac and Cheese

Bring a small/medium pot of water to a boil. Add your pasta and cook according to package instructions for al dente, then drain.

Return the pot (now warmed) to your stove. Melt butter in the bottom of the pot over medium heat. Using a fork or whisk, add flour and cornstarch. Mix until they disappear and no remaining dry parts remain.

Add milk, going a solid — but careful! — splash at a time, stirring constantly with fork or whisk so that no lumps form. Don’t forget to scrap down the corners of the pot while you’re at it! Once everything is smooth, season with a good pinch of salt and many grinds of black pepper. Bring sauce to a simmer.

Cook at a simmer, stirring, for one minute. Remove from heat. Stir in grated cheese until melted and combined. (If you find the cheese won’t seamlessly melt into the sauce, put the pot back on low heat while stirring until the cheese melts and everything combines, then take it back off heat.)

Is your drained pasta still warm? Great! Then add it to the pot, and stir evenly to coat. (If your pasta got cold while you made sauce, pause here! The sauce will seize up if you try to mix in cold noodles. Re-warm it by quickly rinsing it throughly with hot water and drain it again. Once completely drained, add rewarmed pasta to pot, stir to evenly coat.)

Your Mac and Cheese is ready! Give another grind of black pepper on top, for aesthetics.

Grab a fork. Use your phone to put on a podcast. Dig in.

Let’s Make This the Summer of the Creamsicle

I have an unofficial tradition of declaring a “Sweet Treat of the Summer” around this time every year. I feel like there’s always a designated Drink of the Summer. Once upon a time, it was the Aperol Spritz, then the Dirty Shirley. I’m secretly waiting for a summer Cosmo comeback — not because it’s a drink I especially love but just because early- to mid-2000s core does feel right these days. In any case, much like a Drink of the Summer, a Sweet Treat of the Summer is meant to be more than a trend. It’s a motif, a theme, a lifestyle. Last summer, I was in my crème brûlée era (and even perfected a small-batch crème brûlée recipe with individual portions for two, which perhaps I’ll share one day!). This year, I’m going retro and simple, celebrating one of my favorite flavors from childhood summers. My Sweet Treat of the Summer for 2023 is the humble Creamsicle.

Creamy vanilla blended with bright citrus, the Creamsicle cannot be topped in terms of a perfect flavor mashup! It was my go-to order from the ice cream truck growing up, always scrounging dirty quarters out of the cupholder in my mom’s minivan the second I heard the truck’s jaunty jingle so I could get a taste of pure sticky summer. And now I’m reaching for their nostalgic taste once more. This is also likely informed by the fact that I live in central Florida now, where orange flavors are prevalent and popular.

While researching this piece, I learned there’s actually a difference between Creamsicles and Dreamsicles, though I’ve typically used both terms interchangeably. The lore appears a little complicated or a little simple depending on how you look at it. “Dreamsicle” and “Orange Dreamsicle” as trademarks have passed around a bunch, used to refer to everything from hair color to energy drinks to sweet treats. Meanwhile, the Unilever Group of Companies owns the trademark for Creamsicle (and Popsicle actually!!!!!!). There seems to be a general belief that “creamsicle” constitutes an ice cream center (makes sense, in the name) and “dreamsicle” constitutes an “ice milk center” (sure). I’m not sure why I deep-dived this or if I even arrived at any interesting conclusions, but here we are!

Anyway, yes, I will be purchasing boxes of Creamsicles® this year, but I’m also planning on channeling the Creamsicle vibe through other avenues, and you can, too! Here’s what I have in mind:

Creamsicle Milkshakes

All you need for this bad boy is vanilla ice cream and orange sherbert! Blend them together for a super simple, no frills Creamsicle-inspired milkshake. Add a splash of orange soda if you want to jazz it up, and definitely top with whipped cream.

Creamsicle Cocktails

You could definitely go simple here. I found plenty of recipes online, like this one that uses half and half, whipped cream-flavored vodka (or you could use vanilla-flavored, which I think usually tastes better), and orange juice. Try out using fresh orange juice!

But I also think this could be an opportunity to flex your mixology skills a little more and take a stab at a Creamsicle-inspired clarified milk punch. Revisit my brief beginner’s guide to making a milk punch, which includes the bones of my Creamsicle-inspired one. I also found a tutorial on YouTube.

Creamsicle Pie

There are so! Many! Recipes! For Creamsicle pies!!!! And I simply need to try all of them. Here are the frontrunners for what I’ll try whipping up this month:

• Orange Creamsicle Pie Recipe by Spicy Southern Kitchen
• No-Bake Orange Creamsicle Pie by Today’s Creative Ideas
• No Bake Creamsicle Pie by Imperial Sugar (this one features JELLO?)

“No bake” are some of my favorite words to read in dessert recipes.

Creamsicle Floats

Literally just a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of orange soda! For when you need a truly no-mess, no-prep sweet treat this summer.

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What’s gonna be your Sweet Treat of Summer 2023?

Uncommon Pairings: So Your Wine Tastes Bad

feature image photo by Cook Shoots Food via Getty Images

Welcome back to Uncommon Pairings, a series all about wine! In the past few installments, we’ve talked about how to taste wine (more senses are involved than you’d think!), what to look for on a label, and which sparkling wines go best with chips (tbh one of my favorite pieces I’ve written for AS). Today, we’ll talk about what to do when you find yourself in the unfortunate situation of having a glass of wine taste off.

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It happens to many of us. In fact, it just happened to me! I found an open bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in my fridge that had been there for weeks, laying on its side hidden behind a loaf of bread and several takeout containers. It had been weeks, so I wasn’t surprised to find that the wine had oxidized and was well past its prime. Thankfully, it was mostly empty, so I didn’t feel too terrible pouring the remaining glass and a half down the drain. Other times, we open a bottle and it’s terrible from the get-go. Maybe it was stored improperly or it was exposed to too much sunlight or heat before you got a chance to have a sip. In both cases, there are some things to look for when deciding if your wine has gone bad.

If The Bottle Is Already Open

As a rule of thumb, wine can last anywhere from three to five days, but this period can both shorten and increase based on the type of wine it is as well as how it’s stored. The only way to know for sure if your wine is still good to drink is to consider possible changes in smell, appearance, and taste. If the fragrant bouquet you originally picked up from the wine’s nose now smells like a crisp nothing, the wine may be past its prime. Similarly, if the wine smells much sweeter than before, I’d probably pass.

If your wine has changed color since you last had a glass of it, that’s a pretty solid indicator that you shouldn’t drink it. The same is true if your wine suddenly has bubbles where there were none before. Sparkling wines are great when you buy them as sparkling wines, less so when you accidentally induce fermentation.

If your wine still looks and smells the same as before, the only way you’ll really know is through taste — but use your taste buds at your own risk. If your wine tastes vinegary or more sweet than you remember, it’s probably best to toss it. If it’s only slightly off, you might be able to cook with it, but no promises.

Why This Happens

If you’ve ever heard someone say a wine needs to “open up” before it can be enjoyed, it means the wine needs a little exposure to air before it can reach its full potential. Short-term exposure to air can unlock otherwise missing notes in a wine’s overall profile, but over time, this oxidation will render the wine undrinkable. There’s no real way to get around this after you uncork a bottle. Even if you’re extremely quick to uncork, pour, and re-seal before popping the bottle into the fridge, the wine begins to oxidize the moment it gets that first hit of air.

You can delay the process by using a vacuum stopper, which extracts the air from an open bottle before it’s sealed, or by using a wine preservation system like Coravin which is very cool and sciencey (you never need to uncork the bottle, but thanks to the magic of argon gas, you’re still able to enjoy a glass) but upwards of a hundred dollars. I personally do not have a Coravin, but I am very jealous of people who do! I use a champagne stopper for almost everything, including bubble-free bottles, and it works well.

If Your Bottle Is New

If the bottle in question is a brand-spankin’-new bottle and it still tastes or smells off, it could be faulty. Some common tells of faulty wines are mostly smell-based — rotten eggs, mildew, garlic — and if you do wind up with a faulty wine, I’m sorry! That’s some bad luck. Wine’s a delicate little thing, and it can be affected by all sorts of things: sulfur that’s added to the wine, the cork that was used, improper storage… honestly, it’s a miracle we wind up with any good wine at all! If you think your wine is faulty, you might be able to take it back to the store and exchange it for something else.

On the other hand, the wine might taste like that on purpose! Some natural / low-intervention wines embrace unconventional notes that would be considered indicative of faults in wines made in a more traditional method. If the wine you’re drinking is low-intervention, and it tastes weird from the first sip, I’d recommend looking up the wine and any associated tasting notes to see if what you’re tasting matches what’s meant to be in the bottle.

The last option — if it’s not a natural wine and it doesn’t have any of the common wine faults —- is that you might just not like the wine. And that’s totally okay. Finding out what you don’t like is just as important as finding what you do like. And I hope you do find something you like!

Pop into the comments if you want a personalized wine rec <3

Chocolate Strawberry “Just Because I Can” Cake

Welcome to the sapphic table, a series of (hopefully!) unfussy seasonal recipes for your farmers market, your CSA bounty — or your grocery store. Today we’re making a chocolate cake with fresh strawberry frosting, just because we can. 

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This is a story about birthdays.

My mother is exactly 30 years and seven days older than me. I know the number to the date because, famously, I was supposed to be born on her 30^th birthday. But legend has it that when my mother was told by her doctor of my expected birth date, she had a conversation with me in utero, one-on-one. She was willing to share her body with me, she was willing to have everything she knew in life go upside down by becoming a mom, but she was not — and I repeat, not — prepared to share her birthday. You see, she knew that as soon as I was born, whatever day that was, it would become “the baby’s birthday.” She’d never have the day to herself again.

And so, knowing better than to ever upstage her, I dutifully waited until I was exactly one week overdue to be born.

The week between June 19^th (my mother’s birthday) and June 27^th (my own) is one of my favorite times of the year. Ok yes, anyone who’s ever even casually read my writing knows that we’re close as a mother/daughter duo, so there is that. But also? I’m in it for the cake. The third week of June comes with not one — but two birthday cakes — and I, for one, think that’s beautiful.

This cake, however, is actually not either of our birthday cakes this year! My mom had a double chocolate cake from Deb Perelman’s magical Smitten Kitchen Keepers that I made over the weekend. Mine’s from a local bakery because I’m tired (whoops!) (it will be vegan chocolate with a vegan cookie butter buttercream). But this cake? This is the kind of cake you can make for no other reason than you have a little over an hour to spare and a few handfuls of strawberries in the fridge.

That’s right, I said an hour. If you hustle, that’s the time that stands between you and a fudgey, chocolatey, cake that’s just this side of a brownie and a strawberry frosting that tastes like summer itself was bottled into a Barbie pink tube.

If you were baking online roughly eight years ago, this chocolate cake recipe will be instantly recognizable to you — it’s lifted from Smitten Kitchen’s viral one that I swear every person on the internet had a copycat of (it’s really that good, and who doesn’t want a birthday style cake that can be made in the time it takes to watch a repeat of Grey’s Anatomy?). The frosting is adapted from Baking Mischief’s Small Batch Strawberry Frosting (I doubled it), with a sprinkle of Martha Stewart’s Quick Strawberry Jam, because I’ve found if you cook the strawberries down a bit first you don’t lose any of their fresh flavor and also you keep your frosting from spitting apart on day two or three, which otherwise can happen with fresh fruit.

Of course, that’s assuming the cake lasts that long.

Chocolate Strawberry “Just Because I Can” Cake

Serves 6-9 (depending on how large you cut your slices)

Ingredients for Fresh Strawberry Frosting

1 cup of strawberries, cut into medium chunks
2 teaspoons granulated sugar
Lemon or lime juice, you’ll only need a light squeeze
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature (fun fact! you can speed this up by putting cut up butter in microwave for 5-15 seconds, stoping to turn butter pieces around every 5 seconds, until you can leave a thumbprint easily but butter has not yet melted)
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Instructions for Fresh Strawberry Frosting

In a large skillet stir your strawberries, sugar and a squeeze of lemon or lime juice. Stirring frequently, cook over medium-high, until strawberries break down until a jam like consistency (I speed this along by pushing down on the larger strawberries with my fork or spatula while cooking). Keep going until the mixture is thickened — if you make a streak with a spoon, it should remain unfilled with strawberry juice — and bubbles completely cover surface, roughly 5 minutes. (I’ve gotten a note in the comments that this might be more like 10 minutes! But you want it to look like jam and also to hold its shape when you swipe through with a spoon.)

Take strawberry jam off heat and transfer to a container, let cool to room temperature.

(While the strawberry jam is cooling, this is when I make the chocolate cake! Scroll down for details!)

Put room temperature strawberry jam, room temperature butter, powdered sugar, vanilla extract, and pinch of salt into a large bowl. Beat with an electric mixer until fluffy and looks like frosting. Taste for sweetness — you can add up to an additional 1/2 cup of powder sugar if needed, but I find the frosting to be appropriately sweet without it.

You’re all done! Frost your cake.

Ingredients for Dead Ass Simple Chocolate Cake

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature (once again! you can speed this up by putting cut up butter in microwave for 5-15 seconds)
3/4 cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 cup buttermilk (see *note for DIY buttermilk instructions)
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt

*Note: Who keeps buttermilk around in their fridge? Ok if you don’t have buttermilk and don’t want to buy it for such a small amount, you have some options! The classic DIY buttermilk is to “sour” regular milk with lemon juice or vinegar. Add one tablespoon of lemon juice or vinegar to one (slight, you can afford to be a little under here) cup of regular milk, stir and let sit for 5-10 minutes before using. Then you’re all set! For this recipe you’ll want 3/4 cup of that mixture, what you do with the final 1/4 is your own business. Alternatively, you can also replace the 3/4 cup buttermilk with either 3/4 cup sour cream or plain yogurt, in both cases thin out the sour cream/yogurt a bit with milk before using, so it’s loose but still thick, and take 3/4 cup of that mixture.

Instructions for Simple Chocolate Cake

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Coat an 8-inch square brownie pan with nonstick spray and line the bottom with parchment paper (you can trace an outline of your pan on the parchment paper and then cut to size, so it matches the bottom of the pan).

In a large bowl, beat the butter and sugars together with an electric mixer until fluffy (be careful of over-mixing, if you’re unsure, look for when the butter is creamy and you can see flecks of sugar throughout).

Add the egg, the yolk and the vanilla. Beat until just combined and scrape down the bowl. Add the buttermilk and beat it all again. Don’t worry if the batter looks a little uneven or curdled — we’re in the middle of a process here!

Put your flour, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a small/medium bowl. Shake this mixture all over the wet batter.

Stir it all together with your mixer on low (or by hand) until the flour just disappears. Scrape down bowl one final time, because baby you made it!

Scoop batter into prepared pan and smooth flat. Bake for 20 to 30 minutes, until a toothpick or fork inserted into the center comes out clean.

Let cool for about 5 minutes in its pan, then run a thin knife around the edges to ensure it’s loose, and get ready for what I call the “two plate maneuver” — first, carefully flip your brownie pan upside down onto a plate, so the cake slides out. The cake will now be upside down on this plate, with the bottom of the cake facing up. Cover the now exposed bottom with the cooling rack and immediately, but still gently, flip it back — so the cake is now right-side up again (this can also be done just using a second plate instead of a rack, I have never “owned” a cooling rack in all my years of baking).

I know that sounds awkward written out, but I promise its instinctive once you’re in it. Basically you just want to get the cake out of the pan, and have it ultimately be right-side up. Do whatever works best for you.

Let cake cool completely before frosting. Following Deb Perelman’s advice, I always speed this up by putting it in my freezer for about 15 minutes.

(While the cake is cooling in the freezer, this is when I finish my strawberry frosting! Scroll back up for details!)

Once your cake is completely cool to the touch, frost it. Cut into pieces and serve.

Countdown to Pride: Mocktails in Every Color of the Rainbow

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Uncommon Pairings: Labels Can Be Good, Actually

feature image photo by VICUSCHKA via Getty Images

We’re back, babes! It’s another edition of Uncommon Pairings, a series all about wine. Peruse the archives here for some more drippy, boozy content.

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Labels are tough, both the ones we’re given and the ones we give ourselves! But that’s because we’re complex beings, and labels can’t even begin to describe who we really are. In the wine world, labels are easier. Wine labels give you some insight into what the stuff inside the bottle might taste like and whether you’ll even like it at all. If you’ve ever been stuck trying to figure out what “AOC” means on a wine bottle — not that AOC, sorry — or whether Sancerre is really worth the price tag, I’ve got you.

I’m currently working my way through a bottle of sparkling! Here are the front and back for reference:

Vintage

Sometimes, wine will have a year on it! The year is the vintage, or the year in which the grapes that make up the wine were harvested. The whole wine production cycle can span several years, but grape growing seasons are less than a year, so it’s easier to just refer to when the grapes were harvested. This comes particularly in handy because grapes reflect the climate they were grown in. Remember 2020? There were a bunch of wildfires in California, and several wineries were impacted. The ones that did have grapes survive were worried the wines made with that year’s harvest would taste smoky (smoke taint is the official term).

Vintages are useful, but unless you have the encyclopedic knowledge of every region’s climate per year, or the patience to Google, you’re probably fine to ignore the vintage, especially with larger producers. If your local wine store stocks the wine, chances are enough people believed in the wine to get it on the shelves. If you have the extra patience, you can also check out vintage charts! They’ll tell you which years in a particular region exhibited exceptional growing conditions and yielded Good Grapes.

Also, sometimes wine doesn’t have a vintage! The bottle I’m drinking right now doesn’t! Sometimes this’ll be clearly marked on a bottle with “NV” (Non-Vintage) but other times, it’ll just be omitted entirely. Lack of vintage isn’t a bad thing; it just means that wines from different harvests were blended together.

ABV

Wine ABV can vary, anywhere from 5-6% all the way to 20% or more. Fortified wines like Madeira or Port are on the heavier end of the spectrum. Most clock in around 11-14%, and you’ll be able to see this clearly marked on the bottle. On the back of the label of what I’m drinking, it says “11% vol,” so it’s on the lower end of average. I usually prefer lower-ABV wines during daytime hours or anytime I want something that’s an easy sipper. IMO the higher-ABV stuff works well for candlelit dinners and nighttime flirting, but that’s just me!!

The Producer

The producer is who makes the wine! If a producer isn’t listed on the bottle, you can usually find out who’s behind the wine by Googling the name (like how André is an E&J Gallo Winery creation).

I’m drinking something made by F. Pato — and on the side of the back label, it says “Filipa Pato.” She’s a former chemical engineer turned winemaker who makes wines from indigenous grapes with her husband. I picked this up because the last name sounded familiar to me, and after some light nternet sleuthing, I think I have figured it out. Maria Pato makes the (very good) Duckman wines with her father, a father who interestingly has the same name as Filipa Pato’s father, which would make the two… sisters, I think, if my math is right! Wine! A family business!

Where It’s From

Have you ever picked up a bottle of wine and noticed that the label says something like “Denominazione di origine controllata” or “Appellation d’origine controlée”? It just means that the wine is from a protected or controlled region and that its production followed very specific rules (including how much of each grape variety can be in it, the alcohol content, and more). The rules vary based on the country and type of wine, but they’re strict.

You might’ve heard that Sancerre is, like, the ideal white wine. Sancerre is just 100% Sauvignon Blanc with good marketing (and because of AOP rules, really specific production standards). But if you know you like Sancerre, and you don’t love the price tag associated with Sancerre, just pick up a Sauv Blanc from elsewhere in France! Or New Zealand! It might not taste exactly like Sancerre, but it’ll be close.

Other times, wine won’t be from a protected or controlled region. And that’s totally fine! I feel like a lot of protected and controlled regions are in the “Old World” (Europe), and because of the strict rules, there isn’t as much invention and play. If you’re looking for something funkier or different or made with local grape varieties or minimal intervention, you might want to look outside of the “famous” wine regions. It’ll still be just as good!

What (Grapes) It’s Made Of

If the wine isn’t from a controlled region, the label will (usually) list out the grapes that are in the bottle. I’m drinking a blend of Bical, Cercial, and Maria Gomes — three grapes I had no idea existed until I opened this bottle! If the grapes listed are new to you, I do recommend looking them up to figure out what flavors are typically present in the wines they comprise.

And honestly, that’s it! I suppose a sixth thing to consider is how cute the label is (always get the cute bottle!!) but ultimately that has no bearing on the wine itself — sad but true. Anyway, let me know what you’re drinking in the comments!! And if you want a custom wine pairing, let me know!!

11 Meal Ideas for When You Don’t Like To Cook but LOVE To Bake

So I have this thing with fruit. And meat. When other people give it to me, I mostly trust it. When I try to prepare/bake/cook it, I can’t eat it. I don’t trust myself. With fruit, it’s definitely a texture thing. It has to be the perfect amount of ripe and the perfect level of dry and clean. With meat, it’s really that I have this fear of getting sick, but my fear is at a slightly irrational level. These are clearly a deeper sign of some bio-psychological issue, but I’ve learned to work with it over the years.

I’m a big baker, not necessarily because it’s rule-based (not a big rules person), but because it feels safe and foolproof on a virus/bacteria/texture level. Over the years, I’ve learned to love baking and slowly become a more horrible and lazy cook. Upon realizing this, I discovered that if I disguise actual meals as things I can bake, I will actually eat it. So here is my list of things I “bake” that can actually be consumed for real, nutritious meals.

Whatever Quiche

My mom actually has an excellent French quiche recipe, but it’s a bit expensive to constantly make each week. It’s mostly because it calls for really beautiful, expensive, French cheese. I usually make the crust from scratch since it requires me to “bake” and then fill the quiche with literally anything I have. I typically use a mixture of heavy cream and milk together with the eggs, and then use a white cheddar blend of some sort. I recently found a Gruyere mix at Aldi and I highly recommend this if you can find it on sale. My go-to fillings are spinach and bacon bits.

Here’s a generic recipe.

Blueberry or Really Any Fruit (Breakfast) Pie

I really don’t love blueberries, mostly because of the texture, but they are SO GOOD for you. So a few weeks ago, I thought “why not make a blueberry pie!” Most recipes will call for pre-made blueberry filling or some sort of jam, but I quite literally bought blueberries, smashed them up, and followed recipes for “blueberry pie filling from fresh blueberries.” I watched the sugar a bit and instead of making a pie top or a brown sugar crumble, I mixed extra smashed blueberries with some flour and sugar. I ate it for breakfast every day, and I’m not ashamed. If that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes.

Something like this.

Basic Soup and Bread

Soup is easy because it’s typically foolproof and mostly vegetables, which feels safe. All you need is a vegetable or chicken broth base and whatever vegetables you want. My preference is using a blender to make the soup creamy. A go-to of mine is potato and leek (blended) or even a DIY version of Paneria’s broccoli cheddar because, you guessed it, I have to trick myself into eating broccoli. Then, making soup gives you the excuse to make any kind of dunking bread you want!!!

Try this recipe.

Focaccia For Anything

Is it just me or is focaccia gay? No, seriously, every queer person I’ve ever had any sort of relationship with always had a thing for focaccia. I’ve come to the conclusion that focaccia is for the queer that isn’t quite on the level of buying sourdough starter but still wants to have a homemaker moment. It’s one of the easier breads to make and you can basically do whatever you want with it. I prefer a classic tomato, basil, mozzarella, but I’m also a big fan of using the plain olive oil and salt bake as sandwich bread.

Here’s a recipe to start with.

Apple/Banana Pancakes

I typically make them from scratch because I always have stuff on hand, but you definitely can just use box mix. During the fall months, I’ll cut up apples into little chunks and throw them in a pan with a little agave, maple syrup, and cinnamon. Once they’re soft and fragrant, I simply just dump them on top of my plain pancakes. With bananas, you can bake them into the batter or just put them on top. I’ll sometimes caramelize them with agave in a pan.

Banana/Pumpkin/Zucchini Bread

Again, the bread format really comes in clutch if I need to get rid of some zucchini or just need more vegetables in my life. Banana and pumpkin bread feel more desserty but since you can control the sugar, you can decide what exactly you want it to taste like.

Here’s a recipe for zucchini bread.

Dumplings with Chicken

This can be any chicken ‘n’ dumplings recipe online. The difference is that I put the emphasis on the dumplings because that part feels like baking. I look for an oven-based recipe so that I’m assured the chicken is fully cooked.

Kinda like this.

Vegan (or not) Sausage Roll

So I’ve never actually made this myself, but I’ve really wanted to! I fell in love with vegan sausage rolls while living in England, and I haven’t been able to find the right meat substitution for the filling. They just have better plant-based meat over there. It’s a savory pastry, so obviously it’s a baked good.

Try the vegan version.

Fridge Party Pizza

Trader Joe’s frozen pizza dough works great for this, but you can also make the dough from scratch if you have a bit more time. As long as you have any sauce based (including just straight up olive oil) and any type of cheese, you can throw anything you want on there. I’ve learned that some combos are better than others for sure, but every time I make pizza it’s because I have many vegetables about to go bad, so I make it work with whatever I have in the fridge.

Chicken Pot Pie

This one is a little more risky and I’ve honestly never made it myself, but it seems like a good idea, right? I usually just default to the Costco chicken pot pie because it’s pre-made and just needs to be reheated in an oven. One of these days I’ll actually make one, but it’s almost summer and pot pie is definitely a winter dish.

Here’s a simple recipe that utilizes frozen veggies.

(Caucasian) Casseroles

As much as I hate to admit it, casseroles feel like a good default option because they almost guarantee well baked vegetables and meats and the texture is usually creamy and delicious. I don’t actually make a lot of casseroles. In fact, the only one I’ve ever made is a corn casserole for Thanksgiving. If I can get over the shame of making a casserole, this might be a game-changer for me.

If you have any good hacks PLEASE comment and share the recipes!