My temperature-related angst is fueled, in part, by the fact that it’s currently too hot to host anyone on my terrace between the hours of 7 a.m. and 10 p.m. Ever since my first – and tragically only – summer foray into hosting, I’ve had the itch to throw another party.

The last apericena I hosted was a hit. I can say this with some certainty because a friend recently confessed that she’s been dreaming about the lemon-anchovy suppli I made for it.

So, while I wait for Rome to cool down enough to invite people over again, I thought I’d revisit the menu: what I made, what I assembled, what I prepped ahead of time, and the almost-sinful dessert that I had been plotting in my head for months.

I obviously made about twice as much food as I needed to feed eight people. Maybe I’ll learn this lesson one day, or maybe I’ll simply accept that hosting a dinner party means eating its leftovers for the next five days.

I tried to do as much as possible in advance because I wanted to actually mingle at my own party, rather than repeatedly disappearing into the kitchen to prepare the next round of food – a habit which I’ve been guilty of in the past. To be honest, I was mostly successful. I was set back slightly, but only because my stovetop refused to accommodate the two pots of boiling water I decided I needed at the same time (again this was more of a – my kitchen is built for one person, not eight - issue).

First, the things requiring no cooking but a fair amount of strategic assembly: piles of cured meat and several types of cheeses – some funky and creamy, others nutty and structured, because it’s all about the variety. There were salty snacks in the form of crispy potato chips, paprika-spiced peanuts, rosemary taralli. And, for good measure, juicy, ice-cold, green grapes.

Every summer party needs some form of a tomato (I don’t make the rules), so I made a cherry tomato salad marinated with basil, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, sea salt, and thinly sliced shallot. The key here is to prepare it a few hours before serving. As the tomatoes sit, they release their juices and mingle with the olive oil and balsamic, creating something almost sweet before you’re hit with the sharpness of the shallot and the freshness of the basil. It’s best served with a piece of grilled sourdough doused in olive oil – especially once the bread begins soaking up everything left at the bottom of the bowl.

I also figured that no Italian spread was complete without some form of pasta. Last summer, I’d made a fresh pasta dish with homemade pesto genovese, potatoes and green beans – in my opinion, the perfect summer plate – so I decided to bring it back for this party. The potatoes add some heft, the green beans add a little snap, and the entire thing arguably tastes better cold than it does warm. This is very important when attempting to feed eight people from a very small Roman kitchen.

The savory star of the apericena, however, was that lemon-anchovy suppli I mentioned earlier. I had made some form of fried rice ball during a cooking class, but that was really the extent of my suppli making expertise. So, I mostly went on instinct – and pleasantly surprised myself.

I made the lemon-anchovy risotto the night before the party so that it would be properly chilled and ready to shape the following day, layering in lemon zest and juice throughout the cooking process. The anchovies added a salty undercurrent of umami that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, while the lemon kept the fried supplì from feeling too heavy. I stuffed each one with a bit of mozzarella because I cannot resist a dramatic cheese pull.

And then there was dessert: Dubai chocolate tiramisu.

This was an idea I’d been sitting on for months but couldn’t quite bring myself to make just for myself – partly because I absolutely would have made myself sick tackling that thing by myself and partly because something this excessive deserved an audience. I drew inspiration from a couple of recipes I found online, combining them into something uniquely my own: layers of ladyfingers dipped in an espresso-nocino mixture, whipped mascarpone cream, toasted kataifi coated in pure pistachio butter (not cream!), and bittersweet chocolate ganache.

It was rich, crunchy, creamy, slightly boozy, and exactly as over-the-top as I had hoped. In other words, it was not a dessert designed for restraint. Fortunately, neither was the rest of the evening.

Suppli and Tiramisu recipes can be found below….

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The last time we ever spent this amount of one-on-one time together was over a decade ago in New York City – her, a recent college grad living in Brooklyn, and me, a wide-eyed teenager eager to soak up some of that cool-older sister mojo.

Now, me and my sister are similar in many of the ways you’d expect siblings to be (according to literally everyone, we even share the same voice – something that really tripped out our parents when we’d call over the phone). Our culinary attune, however, is unrivaled – practically psychic. If this tells you anything – years ago me and my sister each stayed with a good friend of hers in Paris (not at the same time). She took us both to the same, truly spectacular fish restaurant in the 11th and we ordered the exact same dishes. So, when we were doing our restaurant due diligence in preparation for this trip, a lot of our Google pins overlapped.

I’m sure, that like any city, there are truly bad restaurants in Copenhagen (I mean there has to be, right?). But luckily for us, we didn’t find anywhere we wouldn’t go back to. Were there some we loved more than others? Obviously. But it’s really just the difference from something good to something very very good. As my sister said, “everything is just so much better than it needs to be.” I mean for gods-sakes even the sidewalks are clean and pretty, which I think says a lot about the ethos of the city’s culture.

Now this bit probably deserves its own entry, but the other quick thing I gotta say before we jump into the CPH food scene – the shopping. So many great stores for cool clothes (and thrifting) plus lots of fun spots for quirky home decor, ceramics, and books (couldn’t read anything because DANISH but the overall aesthetic of some of these shops was phenomenal; plus, the bookshops all had some very great swag – peep the tote bag my sis got from Thiemers Magasin which reads “Laes is more”).

Anyways, anyways, the attention to detail and the care for quality extended beyond just public spaces and storefronts, but to every single plate of food we ordered (and not just the expensive places, I mean everywhere). There are still so many places untouched on my Google Maps, but this is where we managed to go in the 4 nights and 5 days that we had….

THE FOOD & DRINKS ROUNDUP:

Hija de Sanchez

Our first bite in CPH. A contemporary spot serving up some excellent tacos and iced drinks. We sat outside which was cold but lively – CPH weather has not gotten the memo that it’s supposed to be summer – and devoured a combo taco platter (because variety is the spice of life). Also ordered hibiscus iced tea and tepache to share. Corn tortillas were fresh, toppings were spicy, and the drinks were refreshing. Tepache is a fermented pineapple drink with spices and I’d never tried it before, but would absolutely order again. Like a better, more complex version of kombucha.

BRUS

We went for drinks, but stayed for dinner because we liked the vibe so much. Sat up at the counter and watched the prep-station dance. Tried a hazy ale which I unexpectedly loved (I’m usually more of a wine person), plus a whole slew of food. Everything was good, but the standouts were the broccolini with goma dressing and the labneh-mushroom bowl. The goma dressing was nutty and tangy all at once, and the mushrooms were almost caramelized and super flavorful. Oh, and the dessert?! We got an ice cold blood orange tart with salt pickled lemons and timut peber. Truly unlike anything I’ve ever had before. It was thick, creamy and made both of us make the lemon-baby face – in the best way.

Diamond Slice

WOWOW. Wow. We sat outside in the sun, people-watched, and ordered as much as we could fit in our bellies. Everything at this NYC-style pizza joint was delicious, but our favorite slice was the hot honey with ricotta, garlic, and black pepper cream piled high with a very anchovy-driven creamy radicchio salad. Also loved their vermouth tonics and ultra-cinnamony chocolate chip cookie (perhaps one of my favorite cookies, ever?!). Still regret not buying a t-shirt.

Poulette / Pompette

Pompette is a fun, funky wine bar and sister spot of the Dua Lipa-approved fried-chicken sandwich shop, Poulette, which is conveniently right next door. The line at Poulette runs down the block, so the best move is to get a few glasses of whatever wine the folks over at Pompette recommend and drink it while you wait to order. While you’re there, don’t forget to make an excuse to check out the very funny sign in the bathroom. Now the chicken sandwich is well-seasoned and ultra crispy, with arguably some of the best fries out there, and, importantly, is takeaway only. Is it excellent? Yes. That said, the line was so long that it’s the sort of place that I am more than happy to do once, but don’t necessarily need to rush back to. I do want to say that the people working there are so kind – with that kind of rush and with that small a space, I half-expected a little bit of snippiness in the air, but they were chatty, patient and very accommodating (that alone is reason enough to return somewhere).

Slurp Ramen

Kate and I realized a hair too late that the restaurants closed in Denmark a bit earlier than we expected, which meant that instead of walking to Slurp Ramen like we intended, we had our first CPH bike ride on a Lime e-bike. Now, this is my transport mode of choice in Rome (I can’t be bothered to wait for a bus that never comes), but my sister hadn’t ridden a bike since she was a kid – a fact that momentarily worried both of us, but turned out to be just fine. We managed to snag the last table before closing and ordered a pickled vegetable plate, ‘nduja ramen and the tea pairing. The pickled veg cut through the richness of the broth, the broth was chuggable and nourishing, and the tea brought out to the nuttiness of the ramen noodles. Worth mentioning, that this was one of our favorite restaurant playlists because they had Lily Allen on repeat.

Kødbyens Fiskebar

An unreal fish restaurant in Copenhagen’s Meatpacking* District, ironically. It was our favorite meal, hands-down. The restaurant is hosted in a large, but somehow low-key space (it you don’t count the massive fish tank in the corner) and reads almost like an upscale diner with better music. We sat at the bar (my favorite seat at any restaurant) and ordered a cheeky glass of orange wine before commencing our feast. Oysters served on rocks (not ice, actual rocks); a hunk of bread with a glistening crust and green seaweed butter; fresh cuts of premium quality fish in cream baths filled dotted with herbs, and citrus and toasted nuts; fresh vegetables; tender fillets; bowls piled high with mussels shells and onions. For dessert, a sweet rhubarb ravioli and a rich chocolate ganache cake. This was definitely our most expensive meal of the trip, and it was worth every penny.

*Side note but the Danish word kødbyen literally translates to “meat town” and that makes me giggle.

Pornsak

By this point in our trip, both my sister and I were struggling with a horrendous cold and were just sneezing our way through Denmark. We figured the best move was to find the spiciest food we could closest to our hotel. We ended up with pad thai and a veg-heavy curry so spicy that it made our lips numb. After eating mostly pastries and butter that day, this was a great way to mix up our flavor palate.

Alle Tiders

This was my last stop in CPH before I had to head to the airport, so I knew it had to be a good one (and a filling/nourishing one because me and my low-blood sugar tend to struggle on airplanes). It was also right around the corner from our hotel, so we’d passed it multiple times a day and kept saying “wow, we should really check this out.” So, I did. Got a glass of orange wine, a hunk of bread with whipped butter (this combo really does seem to be 1/2 of the Danish diet) and a mix tray of 6 different well-prepared, seasoned veg-forward plates. I ate it in the back patio of the restaurant, under the blazing sun, and debated whether or not I should just miss my flight.

Louisiana Cafe

We mostly stayed inside of Copenhagen proper during our trip, but we did take one excursion about 45 minutes outside the city to the the Louisiana Museum. It’s part contemporary art museum, part architectural dream, and part seaside retreat – I know most museums can be busy and somewhat overwhelming, but I genuinely felt so relaxed strolling through the grounds and exhibits.

Now, let’s talk about the cafe. I am always a bit hesitant when it comes to museum dining establishments – most of them fall between “just fine” and “shockingly expensive for a sad sandwich of wilted lettuce”. The Louisiana Cafe was actually delightful – the space itself is beautiful, full of natural light, and the menu was full of things I’d happily order outside of a museum context. We ordered a savory tart and a very velvety coq au vin, but I got to say that I was tempted by the children’s plate despite the fact that I am nearly 29 years old.

COFFEE & PASTRIES/SWEETS/BREAKFAST REVIEW:

Prolog

They are the coffee suppliers of my sister’s neighborhood coffee shop in NYC (and my brother in law’s fave coffee), so obviously we had to make a trip here. Coffee really is exceptional, their cappuccinos are creamy, and they source all of their pastries from a GREAT bakery called Juno (so really, you can hit two birds with one stone).

Hart Bageri

These are all over the city, and I was honestly sort of skeptical that a chain could be so good…but it was so good. We tried the apricot tart, a soft and fluffy vanilla-cardamom bun, and a sausage roll laced with fennel. So many pastries, so little time.

Juno the Bakery

If it weren’t for the line out the door, you might miss this place because there is no signage (something I sort of love – like you gotta be in the know). The line moves quickly and they have huge windows inside so you can watch them make all the pastries. The lemon loaf was perfect in its simplicity; the cardamom bun – soft, sweet and sticky; and the rhubarb frangipane tart was an unexpected fave – the shortbread crust is buttery, and its sweet-sour element is well-balanced. Now, I didn’t try these, but they also sell cookie gift boxes which I just KNOW have to be so good.

Seks

Lovely brunch spot with a fun interior and relaxed vibe. I think it may be ever so slightly overhyped food-wise but I still liked it. Standout dish was actually the Alaskan hotcake. I thought – it’s a pancake, what could be so great about it? And yet, that was my favorite dish. The pancake was huge, but surprisingly light because it was just chockfull of apples. Very fluffy, sweet and had a sort of creamy, tangy drizzle on top.

Isoteket

Copenhagen really did not get that memo that it was May and should not require cashmere sweaters and leather jackets, but the weather didn’t deter us from trying this ice cream shop and walking along the river. Super creamy texture and unique flavors. Was great already, though I’m sure it would have tasted even better (somehow) in warmer weather.

Darcy’s Kaffe

Before I even talk about the food, I’m going to talk about the bathroom. Because tell me why it was so beautifully decorated, smelled like flowers, and even stocked with pads and tampons for their vagina-having customers? And if that’s not reason enough to go, they also had just incredible food. A classic BMO on a sesame seed bun, phenomenal coffee, and a granola bowl that I’m still dreaming about – super luscious yogurt, nutty granola, sea salt flakes, an olive oil drizzle and poached, tart rhubarb. That’s something I’m definitely gonna have to recreate in my own kitchen (anybody know where to get rhubarb in Italy?).

And now that I’ve given you the CPH review, I’ve honestly gotten quite hungry thinking about all the great dishes I consumed, which means that it’s time for me to sign off and make myself something to eat. I’m pretty determined to recreate some of the dishes I tried in Copenhagen, which really is one of the best signs of a trip you can have – that you came home wanting to just incorporate a bit more of that life into your everyday routine.

While I love Mediterranean cuisine, every once in awhile the craving for anything else calls my name. And I’m inclined to answer. Don’t get me wrong - I can polish off numerous bowls of carbonara, heaps of cicoria, and more slices of pizza than I can count….but, as they say, variety is the spice of life.

Rome has lots to offer, but when it comes to non-Italian food - you have to dig a little deeper (it’s not that there’s nothing, but it’s not like when I lived in New York could find the best Sri Lankan, Dominican and Thai restaurants all within walking distance of my apartment). So, whenever I get a chance to travel or I find a not so-common ingredient, I jump at the chance.

Now, I couldn’t find all the ingredients that I was looking for in the sleepy town of Santanyi (well, sleepy in February at least) and these recipes are by no means authentic, but I could not for the life of me curb the cravings. So I went full-in…and, in typical Mary fashion, turned what should have been a chill dinner for 2 into a family-sized meal that could’ve fed at least 4 (no reason to complain though, chicken tinga only gets better with time).

On the menu:

• fresh guacamole (I like mine made a little chunky with lots of lime and red onions)

• shrimp aguachile-ish (now, I had defrosted some frozen shrimp, so I opted to give it a quick sear in the pan, but realistically you could (and should) just use high-quality raw shrimp)

• queso fundido con chorizo (it’s melty, gooey cheese and chorizo - what’s not to love?)

• chicken tinga tacos (shredded chicken, seasoned and simmered in a spiced tomato-pepper sauce, served with tortillas, pickled red onions, and lime crema)

As it was just the two of us, we made everything as we ate, but if I was serving this at a proper dinner party and wanted to actually socialize with my guests, I’d prep the pickled red onions, crema and chicken tinga earlier in the day. Not only will all of the spices mingle and create more flavorful dishes, but you will also be way less stressed out during the evening.

To keep everything fresh, I’d make the guacamole and shrimp aguachile right before you wanted to serve it. The queso fundido con chorizo MUST be served hot and bubbling from the pan, so I’d also wait until the last minute to put this together.

When I made this, we drank Americanos (I am a Campari fiend), but there are a few different wine options that I think would’ve been even better with this line up (see my recs at the end).

Now, on to the recipes…

Guacamole

Ingredients

• 2 avocados, mashed

• 1/2 red onion, finely diced

• 1/4 bunch of fresh cilantro, finely chopped

• 2 cloves of garlic, grated

• 1 tsp chili powder

• Juice of 1 lime

• Salt and pepper, to taste

Directions

1. Combine all ingredients. Season well and adjust to taste.

Shrimp Aguachile-Ish

Ingredients

• 10 fresh shrimps, peeled and deveined (or thawed frozen shrimp)

• 1/4 cup of olive oil, divided in two

• Juice of 2 limes

• 1 serrano pepper or jalapeno, seeded and finely diced

• 1/4 cup of cilantro, finely chopped

• 1/2 cucumber, finely diced

• Coarse sea salt, to taste

Directions

1. Heat 2 TB of olive oil in a medium pan. Add your fresh shrimp to the pan and fry until just cooked through. Season with salt. Let cool and chop into small pieces. If using fresh, high-quality shrimp - skip this step and just roughly chop the raw shrimp into small pieces.

2. In a small bowl, combine the remaining ingredients and toss with chopped shrimp. Season to taste.

3. Serve with fresh tortilla chips and guacamole.

Queso Fundido con Chorizo

Ingredients

• 1 cup of chorizo, diced

• 1/2 red onion, diced

• 1 jalapeno, diced

• 2 cloves of garlic, minced

• 3 cups of high-moisture cheese (preferably something like Oaxacan or Chihuaha, but you can also use something like provolone, muenster or Monterey Jack) - I used a mix of provolone, sheeps-milk cheese, and goat’s milk cheese and formaggini (which is essentially just cream cheese).

• Cilantro and lime, to serve

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(Yes, as much as I love food and wine, sometimes I feel this way, too. The culprit is usually anxiety and results in my stomach getting twisted into a knot. But if I don’t eat, I get more anxious. A fun cycle, indeed.)

Enter Green Olive and Lemon Baked Dorade with Roasted Vegetables. The concept is simple. The prep is minimal. The result - a calmed nervous system and tantalized taste buds.

The meal truly hinges on having a good piece of fish. I used fresh-caught dorade (or gilt-head bream, as some people call it) - it’s a type of white fish found in the Mediterranean and Atlantic that’s mild, ever so slightly sweet, fork-able and flaky. If you can’t find dorade, use whatever fresh white fish you can get your hands on (branzino, tilapia, sea-bass, etc). If you’re worried about bones, ask your fish monger to fillet it for you.

Preheat your oven to 350’F.

Coat a baking tray with a generous amount of olive oil to prevent sticking. Arrange (ie. dump) an assortment of your favorite vegetables onto the tray. The foundational vegetables are potatoes (diced), green olives (pitted), garlic cloves (in the jacket), and yellow onion (thinly sliced). But add whatever else you have knocking around your vegetable drawer.

Lay your fish fillets across the vegetables and top with thinly sliced rounds of lemon. Finish with a hefty drizzle of olive oil, squeeze of lemon juice, salt and pepper, and a dash of paprika.

Cook for 30-45 minutes, until the fish is cooked through and the potatoes are golden. Serve with a bit of fresh lemon zest for brightness.

Personally, I love eating the roasted lemon - it’s arguably my favorite part of the dish.

For this specific meal, I tossed a bunch of diced zucchini, runner beans and halved cherry tomatoes with olive oil in a separate roasting dish (because my dinner-mate was feeling anti-zucchini), but it absolutely could’ve lived on the baking sheet.

Would highly recommend drinking this with a bright white wine like Assyrtiko (a Greek white wine known for its high acidity) or a citrusy, floral Vermentino, but it’d be equally delicious with a sparkling wine (say a Cava?) or even a crisp Provence rose.

At the end of last year, someone asked if I was feeding myself properly - you’re not just living off girl dinner, right?

If you’re unfamiliar, “girl dinner” was coined in 2023 when Olivia Maher posted a video of what was essentially a charcuterie board: a low-effort, no-cook meal assembled entirely for herself. No meal prep, no elaborate cooking for a partner, no hovering over a stove because the only person to impress was you. It was eating without performing a proper meal.

But like most internet language, the meaning flattened as it spread. What began as permission slowly became shorthand for a sort of curated neglect: a handful of shredded cheese, a pickle, a runaway grape, back-of-the-pantry snacks eaten standing up and reframed as liberation.

It felt familiar in a way I couldn’t immediately name. Women have long been praised for wanting less - less food, less space, less maintenance. Appetite has rarely been part of the feminine ideal; effortlessness has. So when minimal eating gets packaged as empowerment, it sits uncomfortably close to a much older script.

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To be honest, I’m not sure why I didn’t think of this before? I mean I know it’s a thing people have done before (it’s not like I invented this), but seriously - it should be getting a bit more love. Whatever…here’s my petition to start a mini fan club for curried risotto. It’s comforting and cozy (i.e. perfect for the constant downpours in Rome this past week), plus it’s another one of those meals that comes together in 30 minutes - because as much as I love cooking, I’m a hu(a)ngry girl… sometimes I just can’t muster through an hour of prep work after gluing myself to my laptop for 6 hours straight. Oh, and I make this all in one pan by the way - because I hate doing dishes.

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Uncooked egg whites give me the heebie-jeebies. A runny yolk adds an almost unreplicable richness to any dish. Burnt scrambled eggs make me want to vomit. But my dad’s herb-and-cream-cheese scrambled eggs? I crave them every time I visit my parents.

Make it make sense.

One egg dish that always turns out right, though? Shakshuka.

Traditionally a dish of North African origin, likely Tunisia, shakshuka is built on a base of peppers, tomatoes, and onions, with eggs cooked directly in the simmering stew. As it spread through the Mediterranean and the Middle East, the recipe evolved, picking up new spices, variations, and personalities along the way.

Today’s version takes a slight detour: green shakshuka.

Instead of tomatoes, we’re leaning into green peppers, zucchini, onions, and leafy greens, all cooked down in one pan before nestling the eggs right into the mix. It’s finished with cheese, cilantro, lime, avocado, and hot red chiles — and yes, the toppings are non-negotiable.

It’s great on its own, but I served mine with crispy tortillas and oven-fried smashed potatoes. The recipe is forgiving, so swap in whatever vegetables you have on hand. Just don’t skimp on the cheese. Ever.

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Last summer, my parents moved from Saint Louis, MO, the town where I grew up, to Whidbey Island, a little reprieve just a ferry ride away from Seattle. With both of my older siblings properly coupled up, and with each one of us living farther and farther apart from one another, I’d grown used to watching the holidays wax and wane by numbers. This Christmas Eve, it was just me and my parents.

Traditions had always been important in our family, a sort of anchor, if you will, into the rhythm of each season. Christmas meant crepe and bratwurst breakfasts, a flourless chocolate cake and a beef tenderloin for dinner, a very elaborate ornamentation scheme for the tree in our living room, a viewing of It’s A Wonderful Life, and a reading of Twas the Night Before Christmas (with a near-mandatory argument about whether or not “roof” rhymes with “hoof”) - just to name a few.

Now, we of course, did some of those things this Christmas (we’d be loathe to throw away all traditions), but with a new home comes a new rhythm, and I wanted to honor that in our own way. Enter - Christmas Eve Greek Meatballs and Spanakopita.

If you couldn’t tell by my blonde hair and blue eyes, I’m not Greek, nor is anyone in my family, but for various reasons (or, rather, people), Greek cuisine has been a relatively big part of my upbringing. My godmother, or nouna, was a childhood friend of my mother’s and her mother taught my own mother some classic Greek dishes that carried into my childhood. At some point it became a sort of nostalgic, comfort food, and even more so after I spent a semester abroad in Athens where gemista, fasolakia, keftedes, moussaka, spanakopita and loukoumades became staples of my daily diet. It seemed only fitting then, that something that felt so meaningful and baked in tradition for both me and my mom, became the center piece for our Christmas Eve dinner.

The meatballs, or keftedes, are juicy, flavorful and ever so slightly charred in a hot skillet (if you’re feeling more ambitious or living in a warmer climate, you absolutely can grill these outside). The spanakopita is balanced with salt and acid, herbaceous, and the filo layers are crisp and buttery. We served them up with homemade garlicky tzatziki, mint jelly, and a simple Greek salad (tomatoes, cucumbers, red onion, feta, olive oil and red wine vinegar). If you can find a Greek wine, like Agiorgitiko or Xinomavro, drink those – they’re rich, punchy and stand up to the gaminess of the lamb. If you can’t find those wines, reach for something like a Chianti or a young Rioja, both of which have more moderate tannins and well-balanced acidity.

Greek Meatballs

Ingredients

• 2 lbs ground lamb (can sub turkey, or equal parts beef and pork)

• 1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt, plus more for serving

• 1/4 cup fresh cilantro, finely chopped

• 1/4 cup fresh mint leaves, finely chopped

• 2 TB fresh thyme leaves, finely chopped

• 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

• 4-5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

• 1 egg, lightly beaten

• 1 lemon, zested

• 1 Fresno chile pepper, seeded and finely chopped

• 1 large shallot, minced

• Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

• Olive oil

• Tzatziki and/or mint jelly, for serving

Directions

In a large bowl, combine lamb, Greek yogurt, fresh herbs, cinnamon, garlic, egg, the zest of one whole lemon, chile pepper, shallot, and salt and pepper (to taste). Blend thoroughly. Form small balls of the lamb mixture in your palm and ever-so-slightly flatten the tops.

Heat a large skillet or cast-iron pan on the stove over medium-high heat with a drizzle of olive oil. Once the pan is hot, add lamb meatballs to the pan, ensuring that you’re not overcrowding them. Cook on each side until a nice crust forms all over. Remove meatballs with a slotted spoon and let rest in a paper-towel lined plate until ready to serve. Repeat in batches until no meatballs remain.

Serve meatballs as is, or with your favorite tzatziki and mint jelly.

Spanakopita

Adapted from Cooks Illustrated

Ingredients

Filling

• 3 bags of chopped spinach (about 18-24 ounces) (you can use fresh spinach, but I find it more economical to just defrost the frozen spinach in the microwave and squeeze out the water with a cheesecloth)

• 12 oz feta cheese, crumbled

• 3/4 cup sour cream

• 3 scallions, thinly sliced

• 2 large eggs, beaten

• 1/4 cup fresh mint, minced

• 2 TB fresh dill, minced

• 6 garlic cloves, minced

• 1 tsp lemon zest + 1 TB lemon juice

• 1 tsp ground nutmeg

• 1/2 tsp black pepper

• 1/4 tsp salt

• 1/8 tsp cayenne pepper

Filo Layers

• 2 TB salted butter, melted

• 1/2 lb filo dough, thawed on the counter top (you can usually find this in the frozen section and it takes 3-4 hours to de-frost)

• 1 1/2 oz Pecorino Romano cheese (about 3/4 cup)

Directions

Combine the spinach, feta cheese, sour cream, garlic, lemon zest and juice, nutmeg, black pepper, salt and cayenne in a large bowl. Mix until fully combined. Set aside (you can prep this up to a day in advance and keep it in the refrigerator).

Preheat your oven to 425’F. Line a rimmed baking dish or small cookie sheet with parchment paper. Lay down a sheet of filo dough and brush with melted butter. Repeat with 9 more sheets of filo.

Spoon the spinach mixture in a thick layer over the filo dough, leaving 1/4 inch border on all sides. Cover the spinach mixture with a sheet of filo dough, brush with butter and a sprinkle of Pecorino Romano. Repeat 6 times. Lay 2 more layers of filo dough on top and brush with butter.

Press the layers of the filo dough and spinach mixture together, ensuring that there are no air pockets and scrunch the border of the spanakopita together to make sure that the mixture stays inside. Score the top of the pie in equal serving pieces with a sharp knife - this not only ensures that the steam releases in the oven, but also creates an easier serving solution once the spanakopita is fully baked and crispy.

Bake until golden and crispy, about 20 minutes. Be sure to check the pie every so often and if it looks like it’s starting to brown, cover the baking dish with a layer of parchment paper or aluminum.

Cool slightly and serve.

An interesting start to 2026, indeed.

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m a Libra. And if you’re a Libra, too, or even remotely astrology-curious, you’ll know that we’ve been promised emotional and financial glow-ups at the beginning of the year. So tell me, Universe, is this some sort of sick joke?

At this point, all I can really do is convince myself that this is for the best. That I can’t see the bigger picture because I’m standing too close to it. That my unwavering trust in me, myself, and I isn’t delusion — but intuition.

For now, I’m calling in every personality I have hiding in the back of my head, just waiting their turn to puppeteer.

Buckle up, buttercup.

Anyways, things are about to get really interesting.

For me, obviously. And for you, if you care to follow along for the emotional spiraling (I mean, life updates).

But before we get too far ahead of ourselves, let’s talk about the good things. The grounding things. The things that made the last few weeks feel tethered to something warm and real.

Let’s talk about what I cooked when I was home with my parents…

Sweet Crab and Leek Pasta with Lemon Zest and Parsley, served with the Charlie Bird Salad

My parents moved to a tiny island in the PNW last year, a true oasis outside of Seattle that you have to take a ferry to get to. One of the best parts of their new home is the permit that they get to go crabbing.

Crabbing season had already ended by the time I arrived, but they’d tucked away some sweet, succulent crab meat that became the centerpiece of this dish.

We folded it into a buttery, lemony spaghetti with softened leeks, fresh parsley, and just enough richness to feel indulgent without tipping into heavy. Simple, bright, and exactly what you want when you’re cooking with something special and don’t want to overthink it.

Pan-fried Chicken with a Lemon-Caper-Shallot-Butter sauce, Roasted Potatoes, Creamy Celery-Fennel-Apple Slaw, Homemade Focaccia with Whipped Ricotta and Herb-Oil, and Lemon Olive Oil Cake with Whipped Cream and Huckleberry Liquor

My uncle and his wife live an hour or two away from my parents’ house, but were willing to make the drive on one condition: I would cook lunch.

The pan-fried chicken is something of a staple for me, but the lemon–caper–shallot butter sauce was a last-minute improvisation — the best kind. Everything goes into one pan and caramelizes into something rich but not heavy, lifted by lemon, with depth from the capers and shallots.

The slaw was creamy and crunchy, packed with celery, fennel, apple, almonds, and herbs — fresh and herbaceous, and the perfect foil to the richness of the chicken. The focaccia was a first attempt (I only wish it had been a touch fluffier), but it was still an excellent vehicle for whipped ricotta and herb oil — mine spiked with chili flakes, parmesan, and a splash of balsamic for sweetness.

For dessert, a lemon olive oil cake — because some things are staples for a reason —finished with whipped cream and a drizzle of huckleberry liquor, a local island favorite my parents introduced me to.

Greek Meatballs with Spanakopita and a Greek Salad

Major shout-out to my parents here, who did most of the prep while I dictated and assembled like a slightly unhinged conductor.

We made this on Christmas Eve — not traditional, but neither was this Christmas. With just the three of us, it felt right to cook something that carried a bit of history. These are the flavors I grew up with, and later learned more deeply when I studied abroad in Athens.

The meatballs — ground lamb, heavily seasoned — were pan-fried until deeply browned at the edges. We served them with homemade spanakopita (a labor of love, time-wise, but not technically difficult), a classic Greek salad, tzatziki, and mint jelly. Comforting, nostalgic, and deeply satisfying.

Crêpes Suzette and Country Ham Scrambled Eggs

Because this wasn’t a typical Christmas, we leaned into that.

Usually, Christmas morning means crêpes and bratwurst. We had no bratwurst, so we pivoted to my dad’s famous scrambled eggs — made exceptional by herbed cream cheese and the patience to cook them low and slow — topped with crispy country ham.

The crêpes Suzette used a classic base, drenched in an orange-zest, cognac-and-brandy sauce, then lit on fire. Dessert, booze, and fire felt like the most celebratory combination we could manage.

The season doesn’t make sense yet, but the food I make does. And that’s the thing I’m holding onto right now — especially in a moment where I don’t have a solid plan.

So I’m going to keep cooking, writing, and sharing what I can. Maybe, for now, that’s enough of a plan.

I’ll be posting some of the recipes from these meals over the next few weeks. Follow along for step-by-steps, and I’ll even tell you which wines I drank with them — and why.

The trick is dousing everything with gravy (of course) AND choosing wines with high acidity, low tannins, and fruit or aromatics that actually complement everything happening on the table.

These bottles aren’t just delicious. They each come with a bit of story, history, and personality — which, if we’re being honest, matches the holiday perfectly.

Start With Bubbles (Always)

Crémant d’Alsace or Crémant de Loire

From: Alsace or the Loire Valley, France

A little history: Alsace, that elegant borderland between France and Germany, has centuries of winemaking shaped by shifting cultural identities. Its sparkling wines (Crémant d’Alsace) are Champagne’s cooler, less expensive cousin, made with the same traditional method. The Loire, the valley of castles and medieval kings, produces Crémants famous for their brightness and mineral snap.

Tastes like: green apple, pear skin, almond, white blossoms

Why it works: It’s festive, fresh, and ideal with salty snacks and the “everyone has finally arrived” moment.

Lambrusco Rosé Secco

From: Emilia-Romagna, Italy

A little history: Lambrusco is ancient — literally mentioned by Roman writers. Emilia-Romagna, Italy’s food capital, built a wine culture around pairing bubbly reds with rich, savory dishes. Lambrusco rosé is the flirty, modern version.

Tastes like: strawberries, tart cherries, rose petals

Why it works: Dry but juicy. Pink but serious. The *perfect* aperitivo wine before a heavy meal. Plus, it just looks pretty.

The White Wines That Carry the Table

Dry or Off-Dry Riesling

From: Germany (Mosel, Rheingau), Alsace, Finger Lakes

A little history: Germany has cultivated Riesling for over 600 years. Monks hand-mapped the famous slate vineyards of the Mosel, while Alsace developed its richer, more structured style under Franco-German influence. In the U.S., the Finger Lakes revived cool-climate Riesling, becoming one of the most important New World regions for the grape.

Tastes like: lime zest, green apple, peach skin, jasmine, slate

Why it works: Its acidity and aromatics mirror everything Thanksgiving does best: citrus, herbs, apples, butter, roasted vegetables.

Sidebar: How Sweet Should My Riesling Be? (Prädikat Guide)

Germany labels Riesling by something called Prädikat, which refers to the ripeness of the grapes at harvest-time (the riper the the grape, the sweeter the wine). Here’s what that actually means:

• Kabinett — light, fresh, often dry or just off-dry

• Spätlese (“late harvest”) — riper, fuller, lightly sweet

• Auslese (“select harvest”) — honeyed, rich, dessert-friendly

• Beerenauslese / Trockenbeerenauslese — ultra-luxurious dessert wines

For Thanksgiving specifically:

• Kabinett or Spätlese = perfect with turkey + sides

• Auslese = ideal with pumpkin or pecan pie

• BA/TBA = only if you want full dessert-wine decadence

Lightly Oaked or Unoaked Chardonnay

From: Burgundy, Alto Adige, California

A little history: Chardonnay’s spiritual home is Burgundy, where monks in the Middle Ages first codified terroir. Alto Adige brings mountain freshness and minerality. In California, Chardonnay became legendary after the 1976 Judgment of Paris (a blind wine tasting where California wines unexpectedly won out against French wines) — and has since refined itself into bright, elegant expressions from coastal regions.

Tastes like: lemon curd, pear, white flowers, hazelnut

Why it works: Creamy enough to complement mashed potatoes, fresh enough to cut through gravy.

The Reds That Won’t Fight the Turkey

Pinot Noir

From: Oregon, Burgundy, New Zealand

A little history: Pinot Noir is ancient, delicate, and famously dramatic (a bit like a romantic lead in a French film). Burgundy perfected it over centuries; Oregon’s Willamette Valley embraced it in the 1970s; and New Zealand’s cool climates — especially Central Otago — now produce some of the world’s brightest, prettiest expressions.

Tastes like: cranberry, pomegranate, forest floor, dried herbs

Why it works: Thanksgiving dinner is basically a Pinot Noir mood board.

Beaujolais (Gamay)

From: Beaujolais, France

A little history: Gamay was banished from Burgundy in 1395 for being “too vigorous,” so it made a home in Beaujolais — where it evolved into one of Earth’s most joyful red wines. The region also pioneered carbonic maceration, a fermentation technique where whole grapes ferment from the inside out, creating:

• bright, juicy fruit

• low tannin

• soft texture

• the signature playful, aromatic style

Tastes like: red cherry, raspberry, violets, baking spices

Why it works: It’s built for Thanksgiving: juicy, gentle, aromatic, herby-food friendly.

Valpolicella Classico (Young! Not Superiore or Ripasso)

From: Veneto, Italy

A little history: Valpolicella’s classic style is a fresh, bright, everyday red made from indigenous grapes (Corvina, Rondinella, Molinara). Over the years, the region became famous for heavier styles like Ripasso and Amarone — fabulous wines, just not Thanksgiving wines.

Tastes like: sour cherry, strawberry, herbs

Why it works:
It’s Italy’s answer to Pinot Noir: fresh, low tannin, totally table-friendly.

*Important*
Choose Valpolicella Classico.
Something like a Valpolicella Riserva or an Amarone is going to be a bit too heavy for throughout the meal (though I think you could make a good argument for it if you wanted to drink it with your pumpkin pie).

Dessert Wines (Three Perfect Pairings)

Brachetto d’Acqui

From Piedmont; made since Roman times; rumored to be Cleopatra’s favorite.

Tastes like: strawberry syrup, roses, raspberry, gentle bubbles

Pairs with: fruit pies, apple crumble, chocolate desserts

Late-Harvest Riesling

See Prädikat sidebar above.

Tastes like: honey, apricot, candied citrus

Pairs with: pumpkin pie, pecan pie, spiced desserts, miso caramel

Vin Santo

A medieval dessert wine from Tuscany made from grapes dried on straw mats, aged in tiny barrels in warm attics.

Tastes like: toffee, almond, dried fig, caramelized citrus

Pairs with: pumpkin cheesecake, biscotti, nutty desserts

Quick Wrap-Up

Thanksgiving is a feast of contrasts — sweet, salty, rich, herby, creamy, and bright — so your wines should be:

• high-acid

• low-tannin

• fruit-forward or aromatic

• flexible enough to play with the entire plate

And if you only remember five things, remember these:

• Dry or off-dry Riesling is unbeatable

• Beaujolais/Gamay is Thanksgiving’s soulmate

• Pinot Noir is a universal crowd-pleaser

• Crémant makes everything feel special

• Valpolicella Classico (young!) is the best Italian red choice

And for dessert: Brachetto, Late-Harvest Riesling, or Vin Santo will carry you home.

• Get more delicious recipes here.

• Follow along for more on Instagram.

• Check out Table of Contents for inspiration for your next dinner party.

• Catch the travel bug exploring my City Guides.

• Browse the Wine Dictionary for simplified explanations to complex wine terminology.

• Learn more about winemaking, labeling, ordering, and most importantly “drinking” here.

If you’ve ever nodded along like you knew what that meant, you’re not alone.

First of all, why we collectively decided to describe something inherently “wet” as dry is beyond me. Second of all, in this context, “dry” doesn’t actually refer to the sandpapery-dry-as-the-Sahara-mouthfeel – you’d think it would, right? Alas, sommeliers haven’t made much of an effort to make it less confusing. I have made that mistake as well and it took me going to wine school to learn otherwise.

That mouth-drying thing can actually be attributed to tannins – a group of gritty little compounds called ‘polyphenols’ (which frankly sounds more like a Marvel villain than something in your glass). They’re extracted from the skins, seeds, and stems during the fermentation process and are also found in coffee, tea, and even dark chocolate (if you like these things you’ll probably like tannic wines, too). Oddly enough they act as a defense mechanism for plants against pests, but clearly humans missed that memo.

Ok, so dry wine is NOT that. So what is it?

Dry wine actually has everything to do with sugar – or really, the lack of it.

During the fermentation process, yeast eats the natural grape sugar and converts it into alcohol. Depending on the wine, producers can a) choose to let the yeast eat all of the sugar (resulting in a dry wine), b) stop the fermentation process before all the sugar is converted (resulting in residual sugars), or c) add sugar (a process called chaptalization) which results in higher levels of alcohol. Essentially, the more sugar for the yeast to eat, the greater the ABV. Picture them as tiny, sugar-crazed party guests that turn sweet juice into something far more interesting.

*Mass-produced wines will often times add sugar after the fermentation process is completed to create wines that are more appealing in the consumer market, but these are typically considered to be lower-quality wines. Personally, they are not my favorite – but to each their own. I’m really just thrilled that you’re drinking wine in the first place.

Most dry wines have less than one and a half grams of sugar per glass – essentially nothing. The yeast ate it all and got drunk doing it. Then, you’ve got off-dry wines that have a teensy bit of sugar, semi-sweet wines (like Moscato) with even higher levels of sugar, and then sweet wines, which are basically just dessert in a bottle.

*A good rule of thumb: if a wine tastes fruity, it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s sweet. Fruitiness and sweetness are not the same thing, but it’s a common mix-up. You can have a bone-dry Riesling bursting with peach and lime notes, or a sweet red that tastes like jammy cherries and chocolate syrup. The trick is to pay attention to how your mouth feels when you swallow – sweetness lingers while dry wines tend to finish crisp and clean.

So, when somebody says that they like “dry” wines, what they really mean is that they don’t like sweet ones, not necessarily tannic ones.

Now that you know this, too, it will make you 50% more fun (or maybe more insufferable) at dinner parties.

And if you made it this far without rolling your eyes at the word “polyphenol,” you’re my kind of person.

• Get more delicious recipes here.

• Follow along for more on Instagram.

• Check out Table of Contents for inspiration for your next dinner party.

• Catch the travel bug exploring my City Guides.

• Browse the Wine Dictionary for simplified explanations to complex wine terminology.

• Learn more about winemaking, labeling, ordering, and most importantly “drinking” here.

When I was little, this mattered less — maybe because there was less pressure, or less awareness. Birthdays felt fun. I knew I could count on a plate piled high with Krispy Kreme doughnuts lit with candles in the morning, or that I’d be whisked away on one of my mom’s infamous scavenger hunts around my hometown. Later, they became quieter — dinners with my sister, long talks, laughter that felt easy. Somewhere along the way, I had to learn how to celebrate myself.

There were a few awkward years of trying to make it feel “right” again — group dinners that never quite fit, and, honestly, probably stressed me out more than they excited me. Lately, I’ve found comfort in solo birthdays: a nice meal, a good glass of wine (or two), a quiet walk home. No one watching. No one waiting for me to perform joy or reassure them that I was, in fact, having a good time. (Can you tell I’m a recovering people pleaser?)

I think a huge part of why I love solo birthdays comes from wanting to simplify — to make as few decisions as possible with little consequence. It’s one of the best gifts I can give myself: the freedom to order something no one else likes, to spend money on myself without guilt, to pour my energy into what feels good without relying on someone else to “do it for me.” It’s a sort of peace in ownership.

This year, I took myself to dinner — a little osteria tucked away in my quiet corner of Monteverde. I ordered kataifi and grilled zucchini-wrapped shrimp for my antipasto, an ultra-garlicky spaghettone with colatura di alici for my main, and a crisp white wine I liked so much I ordered a second glass. Dessert was a generous pour of Abracadabra amaro (definitely not an introductory amaro) and airy apple fritters dusted with sugar. I finished with a small espresso — which, as any Italian will remind you, is to be enjoyed after dessert, never with it.

There’s something sacred about buying yourself a meal and savoring it without apology. I’m still learning how to accept love when it’s offered — to let it land without flinching or feeling like I owe something back. Spending a birthday alone has become a quiet way to practice that. To give love to myself first. Because if you have to earn love from yourself, how can you ever feel safe receiving it from someone else?

Lately, my birthdays feel less about celebration and more about recognition — a quiet toast to how far I’ve come in learning to sit with myself.

• Get more delicious recipes here.

• Follow along for more on Instagram.

• Check out Table of Contents for inspiration for your next dinner party.

• Catch the travel bug exploring my City Guides.

• Browse the Wine Dictionary for simplified explanations to complex wine terminology.

• Learn more about winemaking, labeling, ordering, and most importantly “drinking” here.

My community in Rome is small at the moment, which makes the times I do get to cook for friends all the more special. For better or worse, I’ve never managed to host a dinner party with an appropriate amount of food for the number of people attending (read: I make enough to feed a small army, not just three people).

I’m still figuring out why that is — maybe it’s a bit of scarcity mindset, a charming side effect of an old eating disorder that once made me afraid of having too much. Now, I find comfort in the opposite: the abundance. I love the look of an overflowing table and a fully stocked pantry. It feels like proof that I can nurture, feed, and give without running out.

Anyway, all that to say — when I do cook, I cook. The kind of meal that takes over the counter, the stove, the air. A little chaotic, but always full of heart. This one felt especially right for that in-between moment — half summer, half fall — with sweet corn and mascarpone giving way to smoky stews and enough cookies to undo any illusion of moderation.

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This butternut squash not only screams fall (I mean, it’s bright orange), but it’s also nourishing – emotionally and physically. If like me, you are always floundering about in visa-documentation hellscapes, or otherwise just need a hug in edible form, this recipe’s for you. Bonus points if you also serve it with a gooey grilled cheese on the side.

Curried Ginger Butternut Squash Soup

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons of olive oil

• 2 cups of chopped yellow onions

• 1 teaspoon of salt

• 1 tablespoon of peeled, freshly grated ginger

• 4-5 teaspoons of Thai red curry paste

• 2 1/2 pounds of peeled, seeded, and chopped butternut squash

• 3 cups of chicken broth (or water, or vegetable broth)

• 1 lime

• 1 cup of unsweetened coconut milk

• 2 cups of baby spinach

• A pinch of brown sugar

• 1/4 cup of chopped cilantro (optional)

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Toss the squash, onions, and garlic with olive oil and salt, then roast until tender (about 30 minutes).

2. In a stock pot over medium heat, add a drizzle of olive oil. Once warm, stir in fresh ginger and curry paste until fragrant. Remove from heat.

3. When the vegetables are done, add them to the pot. Pour in the broth, coconut milk, and juice of one lime. Blend with an immersion blender until smooth.

4. Stir in the brown sugar and baby spinach. Season to taste.

5. Serve piping hot, preferably with someone who appreciates soup-based acts of self-care.

Wine Pairing

If you’re using this soup to cure yourself of whatever cold the seasonal shift has brought on, maybe skip the wine. But if you’re craving something to elevate the moment– or hosting a dinner party for one (we’ve all been there) – here’s what to pour.

1. Off-dry Riesling (Germany or Alsace) – The classic for Thai-inspired curries. A touch of residual sugar cools the spice, while bright acidity keeps things fresh. Think lime zest, white peach, and a hint of petrol (yes, really — in a good way).

2. Gewurztraminer (Alto Adige or Alsace) – Floral, lychee, and ginger spice notes echo the aromatics in the soup. Go for dry or off-dry styles to avoid too much sweetness.

3. Gruner Veltliner (Austria) – Peppery and citrusy, with enough texture to stand up to creamy coconut milk.

4. Viognier (Condrieu or Languedoc) – If you went heavy on the curry paste, this richer, rounder white holds its own. Tropical fruit, florals, and a silky texture play beautifully with the soup’s body.

• Get more delicious recipes here.

• Follow along for more on Instagram.

• Check out Table of Contents for inspiration for your next dinner party.

• Catch the travel bug exploring my City Guides.

• Browse the Wine Dictionary for simplified explanations to complex wine terminology.

• Learn more about winemaking, labeling, ordering, and most importantly “drinking” here.

Luckily, I had a couch to crash on — offered up by a friend I’d met during my final year of undergrad, when she was studying abroad in New York. Now, I know some people think, “Why bother getting close to someone who’s just visiting?” First of all, as someone who’s lived abroad and often been seen as the “transient visitor” — ouch. No wonder it’s so hard to make friends. Second of all, international friends are the best kind to have. They make excellent excuses to travel — and more often than not, they’ll even offer you a place to stay.

The first time I went to Paris, I was barely seven. My parents took me and my siblings on a backpacking trip, and we stayed in a hotel with a view of the Eiffel Tower. I don’t remember much, but I do remember eating Nutella crêpes for every meal and joining a bike tour through the city. Whenever we passed a couple kissing, our guide made us ring our bells. The evening ended with a sunset cruise along the Seine, during which I proudly yanked out a loose baby tooth. I woke up the next morning to find a euro from the tooth fairy.

My next trip came years later, during college, after a month-long Workaway in the Loire Valley, staying at a bed and breakfast converted from an old water mill. (That’s a story for another day.) Like this most recent visit, I stayed with a friend of my sister’s who’d moved there for work and spent my days museum-hopping and wandering through Montmartre’s winding streets.

The Paris of my most recent trip looked a little different. In my earlier days, I’d done the museums, I’d done the sightseeing (though there’s always more to see). This time, I wanted to just be — to power down my cranked-out brain, reconnect with myself (and my friends), and find joy in being somewhere new without setting impossibly high expectations. If anything, travel might be the best exposure therapy for recovering perfectionists — which is probably why I love it so much.

If you ever find yourself in Paris and want to see the city through the lens of good food, good wine, and gentle self-renewal — here’s where I think you should start.

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Enter: spinach-and-artichoke–dip–inspired salmon pasta

It’s everything I want in a quick dinner — creamy without being heavy, tangy from marinated artichokes and lemon, and packed with greens so I can pretend it’s basically a salad. It’s also adaptable: whatever you’ve got in the fridge (spinach, kale, zucchini, chard, peas) will happily join the party.

The secret is in the balance — richness from the cream cheese and parmesan, brightness from the lemon and artichokes, and a little heat from the garlicky breadcrumbs that finish it all off.

Ingredients (serves 1, generously)

For the pasta:

• Olive oil

• 1 small salmon fillet (about 120–150g)

• Salt, pepper, and your favorite dried herbs (I like basil, oregano, and chili flakes)

• 2 garlic cloves + ½ shallot, finely chopped

• ½ small zucchini, sliced into thin rounds

• A handful of spinach (or kale, chard, etc.)

• 1–2 marinated artichoke hearts, chopped

• ¼ cup frozen peas

• 2 tablespoons cream cheese (or Bel Paese)

• A small handful of grated parmesan

• Zest and juice of ½ small lemon

• Your favorite pasta (I used orecchiette)

• A spoonful of garlicky breadcrumbs (recipe below)

Garlicky Breadcrumbs

(Makes enough for several meals — trust me, you’ll want them.)

• ½ cup breadcrumbs (plain or panko)

• 2–3 tablespoons grated parmesan

• 2 tablespoons olive oil

• 1 garlic clove, minced

• Pinch of chili flakes

• ½ teaspoon each dried basil, oregano, and parsley

• Salt + pepper to taste

Heat olive oil in a small pan over medium-low heat. Add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds, until fragrant (don’t burn it!). Add the breadcrumbs, chili flakes, herbs, salt, and pepper. Stir until golden and crispy, then mix in the parmesan off the heat.

Let cool and store in a sealed jar — they’ll stay crunchy for about a week. Sprinkle them on pasta, salads, soups, or anything that needs a little extra swagger.

Directions

1. Cook the pasta. Salt your water well and cook until al dente. Reserve about ¼ cup of the pasta water before draining.

2. Sear the salmon. Season your fillet with salt, pepper, and herbs. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat and place the salmon skin-side down. Cook until the skin is crisp, then carefully flip and sear the other side until golden and just flaky. Remove and set aside.

3. Sauté the aromatics. In the same pan, add another drizzle of olive oil, then toss in the shallot and garlic. Cook until fragrant, about 1–2 minutes.

4. Add the veggies. Add the zucchini and cook until just tender, then toss in the spinach, peas, and artichokes.

5. Make it creamy. Stir in the cream cheese and parmesan, adding splashes of pasta water until it turns into a glossy sauce. Stir in the lemon juice.

6. Combine. Add the pasta to the pan and toss until coated.

7. Finish strong. Serve the pasta topped with the flaky salmon, lemon zest, extra parmesan, and a generous sprinkle of garlicky breadcrumbs.

8. Eat immediately — preferably with a glass of crisp white wine and absolutely no intention of sharing.

Wine Pairing

A Vermentino or Sauvignon Blanc works beautifully — something citrusy and clean to cut through the richness. If you’re feeling playful, a minerally rosé would also be perfect here.

As fig season draws to a close, I naturally had to give them one last hurrah — enter, this Fig and Almond Olive Oil Cake.

It’s moist (I know, your favorite word), nutty, and complex, letting the figs’ natural sweetness sing without ever becoming cloying. Equally good for breakfast as it is for dessert, I like it best with a few extra figs and a dollop of whipped honey–mascarpone cream.

Fig and Olive Oil Cake with Whipped Honey-Mascarpone

Ingredients:

For the cake

• cup almond flour

• 1 cup all-purpose flour

• 1 tsp baking powder

• ½ tsp baking soda

• ½ tsp salt

• 3 large eggs

• ¾ cup sugar (can mix white + brown)

• ½ cup good olive oil

• ½ cup whole milk or almond milk

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

• Zest of 1 lemon or orange

• 4–6 fresh figs, halved + more for serving

• 1 tbsp of sugar (preferably demerara)

For the whipped cream

• 8 oz mascarpone, chilled

• ½ cup heavy cream, chilled

• 2 Tbsp honey

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

  

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Using olive oil, grease a round, 9-inch cake pan and line with parchment paper. *I cut out a circle for the bottom and then use long, rectangular strips of parchment paper to line the sides of the cake pan.

In one bowl, whisk together the dry cake ingredients (flours, baking powder, baking soda, salt). In another bowl, whisk eggs, and sugar until pale. Slowly stream in olive oil, milk, vanilla and zest.

Fold dry ingredients into wet ingredients until combined. Pour batter into pan.

Arrange fig halves cut-side up on the surface of the batter. Sprinkle with sugar.

Bake for 35-40 minutes, until golden and a tester comes out clean. Let cool completely.

Now the cake is delicious on its own, but if you want to take it up a notch, serve it with whipped honey mascarpone cream.

To make the cream, whip mascarpone, heavy cream, honey and vanilla until soft peaks start to form.

If you plan on having leftovers (note this cake wields 6-8 servings), serve each slice with a dollop of the whipped mascarpone cream and a few freshly sliced figs.

If you plan on leaving no crumbs and want a true showstopper, spread the whipped cream generously over the cooled cake, top with fresh figs, a drizzle of honey, and a scatter of toasted nuts.

It’s one of those cakes that makes the room smell like you’ve got your life together — even if you’re eating it straight from the pan.

I spent the last two weeks in New York celebrating my sister’s wedding. In true sis and brother-in-law fashion, it was beautiful, intentional, delicious (as in the best wedding food I’d ever had), and yes, there were many, many happy tears (I burst before they even said their vows). In and around the festivities, I danced around New York reconnecting with dear friends and letting myself settle into the rhythm of the city once again.

Being surrounded by my community again made the return to Rome all the more bitter-sweet. I don’t know many people in Rome anymore. Most have left, and as grateful I am to have them just a phone call away, it still feels quite lonely sometimes. I don’t have an office that mandates Thursday-night aperitivo with my co-workers, the dating culture is frankly exhausting (if not bordering on psychological warfare), and groups are tight-knit. I’m working on it, but as big a city as Rome is, it feels a lot more like a village.

A lot of younger Italians have left to find better jobs, and the ones who have stayed have already grown up with a built in set of friends. As an American in Rome, I think I’m considered to be a bit transient. I had fallen out of touch with an Italian I’d met during my first week in Rome, and reached out to him earlier this year. It seemed incredulous to him that I was still here?!…yeah, still trudging away.

So, hey – if you live in Rome (or know someone I should meet), drop me a comment. My friend dates are finally starting to stack up again, but truly, the more the merrier.

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In all of my melancholy of this past week, the only comfort I craved was the granola that my mom and sister have had waiting for me every time I’ve gone back home. I’ve adjusted the sweetness just a hair, swapping brown sugar for more maple syrup, added walnuts, and left out the dried fruit, which is added at the very end.

Eleven Madison Park Granola

Ingredients

• 2 3/4 cup rolled oats

• 1 cup shelled pistachios – *I used 1/2 cup salted pistachios and 1/2 cup walnuts

• 1 cup unsweetened coconut chips

• 1/3 cup pumpkin seeds

• 1 tablespoon of kosher salt

• 1/2 cup light brown sugar + 1/3 cup of maple syrup – * or sub with all maple syrup

• 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

• 3/4 cup dried sour cherries (optional, would also be good with raisins or dried figs, etc)

Directions

Preheat your oven to 300’F (or 150’C). Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, mix together the rolled oats, nuts of your choice, coconut chips, pumpkin seeds and salt.

In a small saucepan, warm the sugar (if using), syrup, and olive oil over low heat. If using sugar, continue warming the liquids in the saucepan until the sugar has dissolved. Remove from heat. Pour the liquids over the oat-nut mixture and mix until the dry ingredients are completely coated.

Evenly spread your granola over the baking sheet and bake for 35-40 minutes, until the granola is dry and lightly golden. Stir the granola a few times along the way to ensure even baking.

Remove the granola from the oven, and mix in the dried fruit of your choice. Cool to room temperature before transferring to a storage container. This recipe yields about 6 cups, which sounds like a lot, but really won’t last more than a week in my household.

Enter the humble, yet versatile chickpea and one of its many, many forms.

While Italy is popular for pizza, pasta, and essentially any wheat-based product, you shouldn’t turn a blind eye to its lesser-known regional dishes. Today, we’re talking about farinata, a Ligurian (that’s where Cinque Terre is) flatbread made from chickpea flour, water, olive oil, and salt. Legend has it that during a storm, the chickpea flour of a Genovese fleet spilled out onto the deck and got exposed to the salty seawater. Once the storm had calmed down, the sailors somehow managed to recover the batter and dried it out in the sun. The resulting dough was delicious enough that once they returned home, they recreated and refined the recipe.

Now, this isn’t a traditional farinata as I firstly, didn’t douse it with sea water, but nor did I cook it in a copper pan or finish it off in the oven. Perhaps the worst crime of all, I even added an egg (sorry, Genova). While it is most definitely an inspired farinata, it is perfect for a customizable, low-energy weeknight dish.

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Because it’s summer, all of these life events are a few weeks behind…so bear with me. But in the beginning of August, I hosted my first dinner party at my new apartment. It was bitter-sweet, as it was my friend’s last weekend in Rome (last, for now) and I was determined to at least give a nice send-off. In typical fashion, I made too much food, but like love, it should be like that - abundant and overflowing.

I spent the last few weeks leading up to this night “nesting.” I don’t know how long I’ll be in this apartment for, but I realized that treating my living spaces as temporary (even if they are) really doesn’t work for me. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have grand plans of traveling around a bit more before really settling down somewhere (wherever that is), but it does mean that I want to be more intentional about how I use my space and how it reflects my own inner world. I’ve tried to break up the acquisition into a few categories of spending, higher cost goes towards things like high-use kitchen gadgets, bedsheets and pillows (the things I’ll use every day) and a few pieces that are both decorative and functional, but I’ve relied mostly on second-hand shops, markets and chains to find quirky dish ware, candle holders, and even table cloths.

We started the evening sitting outside on the patio with this tagliere board and some Campari spritzes. I always say that mixing and matching is the best way to make a board like this - keep textures and flavors different enough that it keeps your taste buds guessing. Here, I opted for three textures of cheeses (soft - gorgonzola, semi-soft - the swiss-cheese-esque one on the right, and harder - the aged sheep’s milk cheese) and two types of cured meats. You could ask a cheesemonger for some suggestions, but to be honest I just went to Eataly and chose whichever seemed interesting. Oh, and olives are a great way to shock your tongue in between bites. Don’t skip the olives!

Seeing as this was still peak summer in Rome, I wanted to keep the main meal fairly light and fresh. Think citrus, veggies, herbs, etc. I opted for a big salad and Pesto Alla Genovese. I used the same logic to my salad as I’d been using all year - a flavor balance between salt, fat and acid and a textural balance between soft, chewy and crunchy. I am very anti-soggy salad because that is what makes kids (and adults) hate vegetables. You can really use whatever mix of vegetables, greens, cheeses, nuts and proteins you like best (or leave out anything you don’t like) so long as you get a well-balanced bowl in both texture and flavor.

The Big Salad

Ingredients

Bag of mixed greens (I like radicchio, lettuce, arugula, etc)

Prosciutto or whichever cured meat you’d like, cut into bite-sized strips

Toasted nuts (hazelnuts, pine nuts, almonds)

Fruit, cut into bite sized pieces (peaches, nectarines, cherries, really any stone fruit are all great summer options)

Cheese, in bite-sized chunks or thick peels (think gorgonzola, ricotta salata, aged parmesan, goat cheese, etc)

Stalky greens, sauteed in a pan with olive oil, salt and pepper (asparagus, brussels sprouts, broccoli, etc)

Any herbs you would like, finely sliced (I used basil)

High quality oil, for dressing your salad (I used hazelnut oil, but regular olive oil would work fine, too)

Balsamic

A pinch of salt and few cracks of pepper, to taste

Directions

Prepare your ingredients.

It’s a SALAD...so, add everything to the bowl and toss with olive oil and balsamic until well-combined.

Eat on a pretty plate.

Now, Pasta with Pesto Alla Genovese was actually a recipe on my mind for awhile. While it’s quite filling due to the pasta and potatoes (and in my opinion, potatoes are a very underrated vegetable - like c’mon, energy, potassium and vitamins all in one little bundle), it still tastes light and fresh because of the green beans and pesto. Ergo, well-rounded summer meal in and of itself.

Pesto Alla Genovese

Ingredients – for the pesto

1 cup of high-quality olive oil

1 cup of fresh basil

1/4 cup of pine nuts

1 cup of grated parmesan

2 cloves of garlic

Salt

Ingredients – for the pasta

500 grams (or 1 bag) of short cut pasta (trofie is my favorite for this due to its delicate texture)

3 potatoes, peeled and chopped into bite size pieces

2 cups of green beans, trimmed and cut into bit sized pieces

1 cup of basil pesto

Zest of one lemon

Freshly grated parmesan

Directions

Firstly, make your pesto. Combine all ingredients into a food processor and blend until smooth. Season with salt to taste. Set aside (you’ll have extra pesto for pastas, salads, bruschettas, marinades, etc).

Next, boil a large pot of water. Salt like the sea. Add your green beans and cook for 2-3 minutes until tender. Remove from boiling water and let rest in an ice bath. Next, add your potatoes and pasta to the salty, boiling water. Cook until potatoes are tender and pasta is al dente. Depending on how long your pasta needs to cook, you might add your pasta and potatoes at separate times so they finish cooking at roughly the same time. Typically, your potatoes will be tender after 9 minutes (depending on how finely you dice them). So, if your pasta cooks for 14 minutes, then, you’ll add your potatoes 5 minutes after you add your pasta.

Reserve 1 cup of salty pasta water before straining out your pasta and potatoes.

Return pasta, potatoes and green beans to a large bowl. Toss in a hefty scoop of pesto (as much as you see fit) and mix until combined. Add pasta water, a spoonful at a time, as needed to create the consistency you want.

Serve with a drizzle of olive oil, lemon zest (optional, but delicious), and freshly grated parmesan (not optional).

Dessert is mandatory at a dinner party. I don’t care if you don’t bake a cake, but even offering a plate of freshly cut, in-season fruit or a few squares of your favorite chocolate is such a classy touch. You don’t need to go big, but you do need to be thoughtful and intentional.

That said, I did want to go a bit bigger because I love being able to take advantage of an oven. I wanted to keep the dessert somewhat simple, but memorable. And this lemon olive oil cake delivered.

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