Comfort Food Classics

I was staring at a half-empty fridge on a Tuesday night, and the potluck was in twelve hours. I had volunteered to bring something—because I … Read more

I was standing in line at the DMV—honestly, the worst possible place to be on a Tuesday afternoon—when the woman behind me started talking about … Read more

I was supposed to be making cornbread. That was the plan, anyway. It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving a few years back, and I had … Read more

It was 11:47 PM on a chilly Tuesday in November, and I was hit with an undeniable craving for green bean casserole. Not the kind … Read more

My sister asked why I couldn’t just boil the sweet potatoes instead of roasting them. It was the week before Thanksgiving, and she was standing … Read more

The church potluck was in three hours and I’d completely forgotten. Everyone else would be bringing those elaborate casseroles their grandmothers had passed down, the … Read more

It was 11:47 PM on a rainy Wednesday, and I had a very specific craving for something crispy and salty. I didn’t have the energy … Read more

I had claimed to hate leftover turkey for years. Decades, honestly. The dry, sad slices, the way it somehow tasted like the inside of a … Read more

The power flickered. I was halfway through browning ground beef for what was supposed to be a classic meatloaf—you know, the kind my mom used … Read more

Introduction My friend Jen asked why I couldn’t just stir everything together in the same bowl I’d mixed the cornbread batter in. I started to … Read more

The church potluck was in four hours and I’d completely forgotten. Everyone else would be bringing those elaborate dishes you see in magazines—the ones with … Read more

It was 11:47 PM on a random Wednesday in late October, and I was wide awake with a very specific, almost aggressive craving for something … Read more

It was 11:47 PM on a random Thursday in March, and I had a very specific craving for that chewy, salty-sweet jerky you can only … Read more

The neighborhood potluck was in four hours and I’d completely forgotten. Everyone else would be bringing their signature dishes—Maria’s famous baked ziti that she’d been … Read more

The neighborhood Christmas brunch was in twelve hours and I’d completely forgotten. Everyone else would be bringing those elaborate, multi-day preparations—the kind of thing you … Read more

There used to be a tiny diner off Route 9 in Connecticut called The Bluebird that made the most ridiculous chicken and dumplings I have … Read more

I was standing in the middle of a chilly Saturday afternoon, staring into my refrigerator like it held the secrets to the universe. The truth … Read more

There used to be a little diner off Route 9 called The Dutch Oven that made the most incredible chicken pot pie. When they closed … Read more

There used to be a tiny, slightly-worn-down soul food spot on the corner of Martin and 7th in my old neighborhood that made the best … Read more

Three winters ago, my neighbor Carol watched me haul a grocery bag full of processed cheese blocks and canned tomatoes out of my car. She … Read more