I’ve long believed that dessert doesn’t have to be grand to be memorable. Some of the sweetest moments in my kitchen have come in miniature—birthday candles tucked into cupcakes instead of a cake, one last cookie before the lunchboxes close,…
I first baked these blueberry lemon cookies on a humid July afternoon, when the air in my kitchen felt thick with heat and memory. My youngest had just come back from a blueberry-picking trip with sticky fingers and a basket…
The first time I made churros at home, I was trying to recreate a memory. It was a cool evening at a small street festival—we were visiting family in Santa Fe—and the smell of cinnamon and fried dough drifted over…
I first made a fruit pizza on a whim, during one of those sticky summer afternoons when my kids were still small enough to nap and I had just enough time to rummage through the fridge and bake something—anything—for the…
It was my grandmother who first taught me that strawberry shortcake isn’t just a dessert—it’s a ritual. Every May, as soon as the berries turned red in our backyard patch, she’d pull out her wide, shallow mixing bowl—the one with…
The first time I made strawberry tiramisu, it was by accident—or maybe desperation. It was late spring, and I’d promised dessert for a friend’s dinner party. I had everything out to make classic tiramisu, but realized too late that I…
The first time I made mango cheesecake, it was a bit of an accident. It was August, stiflingly hot, and I had a few overripe mangoes sitting on the counter that I couldn’t bear to waste. My original plan was…
There’s something about blackberries that just pulls me back to my childhood. I grew up near the edge of a wooded creek, where wild blackberry brambles grew thick and untamed. They weren’t easy to pick—you’d come out with more scratches…
There’s something about peanut butter that takes me right back to being a kid—sticky fingers, packed lunches, and sneaking spoonfuls straight from the jar when no one was looking. But this cheesecake? It’s not for sneaking. It’s meant to be…
It was a rainy Thursday when I first made chocolate mousse. Not a romantic drizzle or a dramatic storm—just the kind of persistent gray that makes you crave something indulgent. I was newly married, still finding my footing in the…