Hey there,

Welcome back to The Good Things. Let’s start with some magic, shall we?

I heard magician Harris III ask a question after performing that I cannot stop thinking about: Are you a “how?” or a “wow?”

And goddamn did that get me.

I’d say I’m a self proclaimed “wow” girl. But in this framing? My mind is all over the how.

I’m curious by nature. I like learning how things work, getting the tea, understanding the mechanics, probably spending the entire show thinking, “How the fuck are you doing that?”

Which is exactly why the question got me.

Harris will argue that you’ve got to start with the wow. Let yourself be astonished before you start taking the thing apart. If we begin as the critic, picking things apart, we risk thinking our way right past the magic.

So yeah. It’s safe to say I’m thinking a lot about the wow these days. And like anything, the more attention you give something, the more of it you start to see.

Here are three things that gave me major wow this month. I’d love to know some of yours.

Gold
An object born from the force of dead stars colliding. Forged in the cosmos before our planet ever existed, scattered out into the infinite universe, and eventually becoming part of this one. All of the gold we have ever held started somewhere out there. COME ON.

Vanilla
An orchid that grows in a very particular sliver of the world. Its flower blooms for just one day, when it must be pollinated in that tiny window, often by hand, before growing a fruit that takes months to mature and even longer to cure into the vanilla we know. Something I’ve worked with for nearly my entire career. And how many of us even know what had to happen for that teaspoon of vanilla in your recipe to get there?

Baby Feet
I was looking at Win’s feet the other day and realizing that hers and mine are just the same. Same shape. Same arches. Same toes. Genetics. Of course. The instructions for those feet were there in her Cell Number One. Somehow, tucked into the microscopic code I gave her, were my feet. Mind bending, dude.

And so here’s where I’ve landed: start with the wow. But how remarkable that the how can inspire the wow, too.

Look at these three things.

Knowing how gold got here made it more valuable to me. Knowing what it takes to make vanilla made something I’ve used daily feel precious again. Knowing an inch about genetics certainly didn’t make our matching feet less miraculous to me.

The how didn’t explain the magic away. It gave me more of it.

That’s what I’m after lately.

Not looking harder for magic. Just making myself more available to it.

The closer I look, the more I’m convinced.

Next to nothing is actually ordinary.

This Month I’m:

Listening to: Come Pick Me Up by Ryan Adams
Driving alone in the car, this song came up on my shuffle. I loved it. Cried to it. And then, like things do, somehow it slipped somewhere farther away. Oh algorithms. I’m really happy to have it back in the rotation.

Thank god for artists. For how they help us make sense of this beautiful and often brutal thing called life.

Baking: Blueberry Pie
I’m sure you could guess that I love a fruit pie. Especially in the summertime. This recipe came from the abundance of berries I couldn’t keep from buying, as shared in the previous newsletter, but it was also a visit back to making pie dough. One of my favorite things to make. And admittedly an intimidating but critical skill I believe all bakers must have in their arsenal.

I’m proud to say I’ve got my forever dough recipe. And the recipe, along with the techniques you need to make really good pie dough for everything from quiche to French silk pie, is coming soon to my Substack.

Noticing: The people who stop feeling like guests
I had a house full of some of my favorite people recently and noticed how much I love the moment when a friend in my home stops feeling like a guest. They know where the glasses are. They open the fridge. They help with dinner. They make themselves comfortable and somehow make your home feel more like home in the process.

There’s something really special about the people you don’t have to host. They just belong there.

Buying: Protocol For Life Krill Oil
I like krill specifically because its omega 3s come in a phospholipid form that is more bioavailable, and because krill sit so low on the food chain, they naturally tend to carry very little mercury or other heavy metals. So that’s a double win for me.

This brand came recommended by my acupuncturist, who’s more rigid around quality than I am, so I’m sticking with it.

A quote I’m considering:
“A writer—and, I believe, generally all persons—must think that whatever happens to him or her is a resource. All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art.”
Jorge Luis Borges

Wild Rye Corner:

We started a little series on Instagram called “Sunday Pancakes.” Yours truly will be making these little videos, showing up every Sunday however we happen to be enjoying this best selling mix.

It’s the product that’s closest to my heart because it’s the first product I developed for Wild Rye. The spark of the business was born from this mix. And it’s as much a part of my life today as it was before I ever started an LLC or called a trademark attorney.

So. This will be an intentional and real life look into how I make these pancakes in my life. Come as you are to watch. That’s how I’ll be showing up too.

Alright, that’s it for this month. Talk to you soon.

With Love,

Sarah

It’s Tuesday afternoon when I get a very suggestive text from my dear friend and neighbor up in Jackson.

“So I’ve got some really ripe bananas over here.”

I laugh as I read it because I know exactly where this is going.

First, I tell her that I love where this is headed. Then I make her wait a couple days. Not because I’m playing hard to get. Anyone who knows me knows that’s really not my style. But because when most people think their overripe bananas are ready for banana bread, they usually need a few more days to reach their optimal, most perfect, and yes, uncomfortably brown state.

So three days later, both of us rocking hangovers from a late night at the Cowboy Bar, my angel of a friend arrives at my home with six extremely ripe bananas and two Cokes, the naughty but surefire fix for our condition.

And in less than an hour, we are pulling warm, fragrant, incredibly flavorful muffins from the oven, and my girl is heading home with a basketful of them in tow.

I had been thinking about the particular magic of banana bread and why it might be one of the baked goods best suited to the home kitchen. When we served a banana loaf at the bakery, the ripeness of that day’s bananas had everything to do with how good the bake would be. You could use the same recipe, follow the same method, and still end up with a slightly different loaf depending on what the bananas decided to give you.

At home, that unpredictability becomes part of the pleasure.

You don’t necessarily plan for banana bread. The bananas on your counter tell you when it is time. Of course I would love that. A treat that comes into your life not because you scheduled it, but because a bunch of bananas quietly reached their full potential while you went about living your life.

And as long as you have this recipe, you’ll be ready when they speak to you. Or, more accurately, when they start screaming at you that it’s time to bake.

For slightly more certainty, if, say, you are a planner or a Virgo, start stockpiling very ripe bananas in your freezer. Let them defrost on the counter for about an hour before you plan to bake, and really good banana bread will never be too far away.

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To me, shortcakes are the epitome of high summer, and this recipe is all about celebrating the cherries from Hood River Cherry Company. The fruit shines on its own, but when you add a bit of sugar, a squeeze of lemon, and real vanilla bean… you get this bright and incredibly glossy sauce that is fragrant, elegant, and far more special than a strawberry shortcake could ever be.

Instead of the traditional and often bland biscuit dough, I wanted to create something with a bit more texture and soul. These shortcakes feature finely ground yellow cornmeal built right into the dough. It adds this gorgeous background sweetness and a delicate crunch that contrasts beautifully with the soft, macerated cherries.

The finishing touch is fresh whipped cream. Heavy cream whipped with a bit of powdered sugar and a pinch of salt. Simple. Perfect. It rounds out the big fruitiness of the cherries with a rich creaminess that leaves you wanting just one more bite. It’s a messy, beautiful, completely unpretentious dessert meant to be shared with friends and family and I can’t stop eating it.

Oh! And Hood River Cherry is offering all of you 10% off your order with code: WILDRYE

Recipe:

Makes 6 - 8 shortcakes

Ingredients:

The Cherries
1 ½ pounds fresh Hood River cherries, pitted and halved
2 Tablespoons granulated sugar
2 Tablespoons fresh lemon juice
A small pinch of kosher salt
½ teaspoon vanilla extract or if you can, the seeds of ½ of a vanilla bean

The Shortcakes
2 cups all purpose flour
½ cup fine or medium ground cornmeal
¼ cup granulated sugar, plus more for the tops
1 Tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher salt
10 Tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
¾ cup buttermilk, plus more as needed
2 Tablespoons heavy cream, for brushing the tops

The Cream
1 ½ cups cold heavy cream
3 Tablespoons powdered sugar
A generous pinch of kosher salt

Instructions:

1. Heat the oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. In a medium bowl, combine the cherries, sugar, lemon juice, and salt. Stir gently and let them sit at room temperature while you make the shortcakes.

3. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and lemon zest.

4. Add the cold butter. Using your fingers, press the butter into the dry ingredients until you have a mixture of flat pieces and small, pea sized bits. Take care not to work the butter in completely.

5. Pour in the buttermilk and stir gently until large, shaggy pieces of dough begin to form. Add more buttermilk a tablespoon at a time as needed, using only enough to bring the dough together. The dough should feel slightly soft but not wet.

6. Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and gently press it into a rectangle about 1 inch thick.

7. Cut the rectangle into four equal pieces. Stack the pieces on top of one another, then gently press the stack back into a rectangle about 1 inch thick. This creates flaky layered biscuits without over working your dough.

8. Cut the dough into 6 squares and arrange them on the prepared baking sheet. (For smaller biscuits, cut into 8 squares).

9. Brush the tops lightly with cream and sprinkle with sugar. Place the baking sheet in the freezer for 15 minutes.

10. Bake for 16 to 20 minutes, until the shortcakes have risen and the tops and edges are deeply golden.

11. While the shortcakes bake, whip your cream. Add the heavy cream and a pinch of salt to a large bowl. Whip until soft, billowy peaks form. Keep cold until serving.

12. Let the shortcakes cool for about 10 minutes.

13. Split each shortcake open. Spoon the cherries and plenty of their juices over the bottom half, followed by a generous spoonful of cream. Finish with the top of the shortcake and serve right away.

Notes:

Feel free to make the biscuits ahead of time and store in the freezer until ready to bake. This can be done a few days ahead or in the morning before you plan to bake and serve.

If you’re feeding a crowd this recipe can easily be doubled to feed twelve.

The amount of heavy cream needed for the dough may vary slightly depending on the cornmeal and the way the flour was measured. Add only enough to bring the dough together.

The cherries can be made the day ahead, but don’t leave them for longer than 24 hours because they’ll begin to soften more than you want.

Hey there,

Welcome back to The Good Things.

This one comes to you from Jackson, Wyoming. I remember the first time I ever saw this place. Felt like I could breathe differently, see things differently, because of all that open sky. I love this place more than I have the words for.

It’s the mountains especially for me. The canyons. The way weather literally behaves differently around them and because of them. All the times that they have seen. I’ve been coming here for 14 years and summers are my favorite. I’ve brought friends into these mountains, come across bears of all kinds in these mountains, swam in the lakes in these mountains, and yet, like the new kid still, I’m barely scratching the surface. I know so little still. But my most favorite way to experience these mountains is to explore them alone. Prepared yes, it’s bear country after all. But the act of doing something really hard like hiking in the Tetons alone with your thoughts and your feelings… that’s good medicine.

The most recent hike was a new one for me. A trail touted as beautiful, but brutal. The turnoff to the trailhead is unmarked. Its path taken mostly by locals, with ample space to feel free and go quiet. After an initial flat pass around Jenny Lake, with birdsong and a big bull moose in the trail making me wait, I was climbing through dense brush that seemed to get a kick out of poking at me. Then this gorgeous stretch of green meadows with wildflowers and a view. And snowmelt from higher up transforming itself into ripping waterfalls. Creating the kind of white noise they’re trying to sell you from a phone, like that’s even possible.

It’s at this point in the hike that you feel preemptively proud of yourself. Like “goddamn am I good, fit, awesome.”

And then, everything changes. To scree fields and bouldering. Straight up and unrelenting. Brutal indeed. So many moments of wondering if it was all worth it. But I never considered stopping. You just focus on getting a little further. And that shit was fucking worth it. Because I’d come across a hidden alpine lake, tucked up behind this towering piece of rock reflecting the light of the clear blue morning, forcing the feeling of Awe through all of me.

I realized then, plain as day, that

Life rewards curiosity.

And I heard in my head: keep going. She’s got more to show you.

I’m never going to know exactly what’s around the corner. And that very human desire in me to claim certainty… to know that the relationship will work out, or the risk for the business will pay off, or that my child will always be safe. It’s futile. And in comparison to what I feel in a state of curiosity and wonder, that grasping for certainty feels small. Contrived. Doesn’t fit.

You don’t get to see that hidden lake from the trailhead. That’s the whole fucking point. And on your way to that lake, there will be hard stretches your brain and body aren’t ready for. But then there’s another waterfall. One you’d never know existed.

This Month I’m:

Listening to: Layla - Acoustic Live by Eric Clapton

“Darling won’t you ease my worried mind?” This version especially gets me.

Cooking:

Here, I cook. More than anywhere else, I cook. It’s really simple cooking. Grilled meats from Sweet Cheeks Butcher Shop and vegetables they bring in from local farmers, also grilled. I’m baking cakes in cast iron and making salads with roughly chopped peaches, cucumbers, tomatoes, and corn, finished with torn basil, the pepperiest olive oil I can find, and flaky salt.

The recipes that can be considered recipes will find their home on my Substack in the coming weeks, so keep your eyes there and subscribe if you like.

Doing: Table tinis

Consider this my aha social moment of July. Get yourself some friends you can order a martini for the table with. Because sometimes don’t you just want a sip or two? A primer. A cold, crisp kick before the appetizers arrive and the wine gets opened.

Not everyone wants an entire martini all the time, you know?

At a recent dinner with friends, this felt like a revelation. No one got sauced, and we all got our martini fix. And if you and your friends are not martini compatible, say one likes a 50/50 and another likes it so dirty you need to go to church after, get them both for the table. Think of it as a tasting, with no pressure to finish either one.

Buying: Cuyana Travel Case Set

I’ve been traveling with these bags for years, and I also really love gifting them. Get the set. Monogram them. Put the small one in your purse and use the large one however you fancy.

They’re reasonably priced, really well made, genuine leather, and they make an excellent gift.

Quotes I’m reading and rereading:

“We’re not human beings having a spiritual experience, we’re spiritual beings having a human experience. Welcome to the party.” - Graham Duncan

“Were I to wish for anything I would not wish for wealth and power, but for the passion of the possible, that eye which everywhere, ever young, ever burning, sees possibility.” - Søren Kierkegaard

“But while we have no control over time itself, we do have a choice in how we orient to it, how we inhabit the moment, how we own the past and open to the future, a choice that shapes our entire experience of life, that ossuary of time. And just as it bears remembering that there are infinitely many kinds of beautiful lives, it bears remembering that there are infinitely many ways of being in time.” - Maria Popova

Wild Rye Corner

I have an affliction in Jackson in the summertime. I cannot stop buying berries.

If they’re at the farmers market, which they always are, I buy them. If the local butcher shop gets a delivery from one of the farms around town and I still have a flat at home, I care not. I buy them.

It’s absurd. Let’s just pretend I’m fiber maxxing?

Really though, they feel like gemstones to me. Infinitely applicable and inspiring and delicious. As good folded into yogurt in the morning as they are baked into a pie on a hot summer afternoon.

And especially delicious when I make waffles with the Wild Rye Almond Flour Pancake Mix and dot the batter with whichever berries I have a surplus of. Mixed berry waffles with soft butter, a little maple syrup, and a sprinkle of flaky salt are some of the best things I’ve made all summer, and I really hope you make them too.

Alright, that’s it for this month. Talk to you soon.

With love,

Sarah

Did anyone else experience Boston Market back in the day? Or is this intro already incredibly niche?

I loved that place. So much. The chicken, the corn, those plastic containers, but I had it especially bad for the cornbread. I trace the origin story of my love for cornbread to those naughty little corn cakes, which I have since learned were made up of one part vanilla cake mix and one part cornbread mix... Explaining why, to this day, I take my cornbread sweet.

This recipe is not like those little cakes, but it takes note. It satisfies that same very real need for something sweet, something with texture, that’s all in on comfort.

They say what grows together goes together, and that idea has shaped the way I cook and the way I write recipes. In the height of summer, corn and berries are everywhere at once. I love the way blackberries and blueberries make this cornbread feel like something new, but also like something we already know.

It leans just far enough toward cake that it can be dessert, sliced and served straight from the pan with whipped cream sweetened with a touch of maple syrup. But I like it just as much on the table beside something from the grill. Sausages, ribs, chicken thighs. It’s also perfect on its own as a snack cake. It can wear a lot of hats, and quite frankly, that’s why I keep making it.

Enjoy!

Recipe:

Serves 10 - 12

Ingredients

1½ cups fresh blueberries and blackberries (or whatever berries you have)

¼ cup granulated sugar + 2 Tablespoons for the top
1½ cups cornmeal
¾ cup all-purpose flour
3½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher salt

½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted + 2 Tablespoons for the skillet
2 eggs
2 cups buttermilk
¼ cup maple syrup, plus more for brushing over the top

Instructions

Heat the oven to 400°F. Place a 10-inch cast-iron skillet inside the oven while it preheats. You want the skillet to get really hot.

In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, ¼ cup sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

In a smaller bowl whisk together the buttermilk, eggs, maple syrup and melted butter.

Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and add wet ingredients. Stir with a wooden spoon or spatula until the batter is just combined.

Carefully remove the hot skillet from the oven using heavy oven mitts. Add 2 tablespoons of butter and swirl the skillet until the butter melts and sizzles against the pan.

Pour the batter directly into the skillet over the melted butter.

Scatter the berries evenly over the top, pressing them gently into the batter. Sprinkle the remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar over the surface.

Bake for 20-30 minutes, until the top is golden, the edges have pulled away from the skillet, and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

While the cake is still hot, I like to brush the top with a little maple syrup for added sweetness and shine, but it’s totally optional.

Let the cake cool in the skillet for about 10-15 minutes before slicing.

Serve warm or at room temperature with salted butter, an extra drizzle of maple syrup, or both.

Notes:
While this recipe sings in the summertime, it can be made anytime of year with frozen berries. Don’t let the season stop you from satisfying your craving and making this cornbread.

This might be the best recipe I’ve ever written. I created it before I ever worked in restaurants, when I was trying to make a cookie that felt like more than a standard chocolate chip cookie but was still familiar in all the right ways. The dough is scented with the tiniest whisper of freshly grated nutmeg, made richer with almond flour and coconut oil, and given character by toasted pecans, coconut flakes, and really good chocolate.

Years later, when I was working as a pastry chef, we made a version at the Phoenix Public Market called the “Ballerina Cookie,” and it was our best-selling cookie by a mile. Later, we sold the dough from the bodega at our restaurant for customers to bake at home, and we could barely keep it on the shelf. Over the years, restaurant owners and chefs have asked me for this recipe, but I was never quite ready to share it. Until now.

These cookies are my heart on a plate, I guess. This is the first time I’ve ever shared the recipe, and this is the only place you’ll find it.

Please enjoy.

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It’s Saturday morning. And I’m homesick.

Not for a place exactly, but for an abundance of time… and a short list of worries. For those happy, carefree mornings when my mom made popovers and my whole world seemed to orbit around them.

This recipe shows you what baking is all about. The art and the science of it. Five things: eggs, milk, butter, flour, and salt. The simplest and most familiar of ingredients, transformed entirely by the proportions in which you use them and the high heat of the oven.

I love how the batter climbs the sides of the pan and puffs into these impossibly playful shapes. They’re crisp and deeply golden, airy and also custardy, tasting a bit like buttered toast and a bit like a soufflé. They’re a satisfying textural wonder.

You could go savory with them. Think chives, Parmesan, and salted butter. But I always choose them sweet. Torn open while still warm and spread with really good jam or honey butter.

Popovers aren’t difficult. They only ask you for your time, about an hour and a half of it. And you don’t even need the special pan. You can use a muffin tin if that’s what’s stopping you.

And then they’re gone. Quick.

But the joy of them? That lasts.

Recipe:

Serves 4 - 6

Ingredients

4 large eggs
1 1/2 cups whole milk
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, plus plenty more for the pan
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Instructions

1. Heat the oven to 375°F.

2. Generously butter 9 wells of a standard muffin tin or 6 popover cups. Be generous here. The butter helps the popovers take shape and gives them deeply golden, crisp edges.

3. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, and melted butter until well combined.

4. Add the flour and salt and whisk just until the batter comes together. You want a few lumps in the batter, so do your best not to overwork it.

5. Divide the batter evenly among the prepared cups.

6. Bake in the center of the oven for 1 hour. Do not open the oven door while they bake. The popovers need all that steady heat to rise into their wonderfully wild shapes.

7. After 60 minutes, use a small, sharp knife to cut a little slit in the top of each popover and let the steam escape. Return them to the oven and bake for 10 minutes more, until crisp and deeply golden.

8. Serve them right away, while they are still warm. Tear them open and add plenty of good jam, honey butter, or whatever makes you smile.

Notes

You do not need a special popover pan. A standard muffin tin works beautifully. The popovers will be a little smaller and will take on different shapes, which is part of the charm.

So my daughter always has a few favorite words. She’s two, so one of them is obviously “no.” And the others rotate, but she’s got this one that’s hung around for a long while now.

She says “more.”

I love this. I remember her first taste of Jeni’s chocolate ice cream. That word didn’t just come out of her lips, it like boomed off of her. Her whole self, just emanating “more.” Which… I get.

And it got me thinking. And I laugh a little as I write this, because I think I’m a lot like that too. Let’s be real, that word when it comes to me is very on brand.

But as an adult, asking so unabashedly for more, or even just admitting you want it, feels risky. My inner critic is well conditioned to worry about being ungrateful. Or worse, blindly hedonistic. Like wanting more means I’ve missed the point of what I already have.

But as I sit with it, I think the “more” inside of me is not some greedy wanting of more things or attention. Instead, it feels like a compass point. A direction. A place to start.

Because for me, it’s rarely about things. Obviously I like things. We’ll get to that in the monthly favorites. But it’s a person thing. A place thing. A purpose thing.

You know that feeling when you’re getting to know someone you’re really meant to love? How you learn something about them, discover more of them, and in that falling, your heart is still so ready for more? That full-body tug toward someone? Mmm. It’s so good. Him. More. Or the way your heart expands and settles with close friends. The ease, the recognition, the “wait, how did I get so lucky to find you here?”

It’s something that fascinates me about human connection. How amidst so many beautiful and sometimes not so beautiful strangers, we find ourselves called to someone. You. More.

It’s a place thing too, isn’t it? How certain cities or mountain towns just grab hold of your heart and never really let you go. Or even, for me, this well of curiosity and desire to share that keeps me researching and writing The Good Things. Write, babe. More.

Can you recall any of yours? Those places, people, ideas, and fiery little sparks that made something inside you ask: more?

Wherever that call comes from, I’m really trying to answer.

Because what if those whispers inside of us are the guideposts? Soft lights illuminating our path forward. So that we can walk about this life of ours a little less alone. More aware of what seems meant for us. More full. Of chocolate ice cream, sure, but also inspiration, connection, meaning, new adventure. Alive in a life that excites us.

And so I’m letting myself own this in a way my daughter does so naturally. We’ll never know exactly where it all will lead us. But I believe with all that I’ve got that it’s a good idea to listen to that expansive call of a self-led “more.”

This Month I’m:

Listening to: Sweet Thang by Shuggie Otis

Shuggie Otis? Man, what it must be like to live life with that name. This song is the perfect accompaniment to driving, cooking, or getting ready for a night out. It’s a vibe. Just like the artist’s name suggests.

Making: Watermelon Juice

I am impressively underskilled at picking a good watermelon. I don’t know what it is about me. I have read the articles. I have watched the tips. I give every pick my all and I’m batting a laughably low average.

So. When I cut into a watermelon and it’s mealy, which I simply cannot get behind, I pull out my Vitamix and make juice. The whole watermelon gets chopped and blended with a good amount of lime juice and a big pinch of salt. Sometimes if the watermelon is big, I do this in batches and season the juice afterward, but there’s no real recipe here. Add as much lime as you like. Add as many pinches of salt as you like.

Then serve it over ice with mint and maybe a little vodka or gin if you want to drown your sorrows like I do after choosing, yet again, another sad watermelon.

Craving: More Quick Happy Hours

I have adopted the idea of a quickie happy hour. When you’ve closed your computer and have a short window of time before whatever obligations are next, and you make time for a glass of wine, or a sparkling water with lime, and a quick gab with a friend.

It really hits the reset button for me. Reminds me that I am not just my work or my motherhood. I’m also a friend who likes fun. Who wants to know what my friends are up to and how they’re doing. And sure, you could just call. But if you can see them for 45 minutes to an hour and be fully present with someone you adore? It’s a bucket filler.

Buying: Solara Good Karma Body Oil SPF 30

I’m all in on this sunscreen brand. I buy the mineral sunscreen spray for Win and this body oil for me. I’m incredibly particular about ingredients, and once this was recommended to me by my good friend Kris, I never looked back.

It feels like sunscreen, but with a little more pleasure in the ritual. Which, obviously, I’m here for.

Reading: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

This book felt like a door opening into a whole world of more for me. It sparked back to life a joy of reading that I had let live dormant for far too long. I’m rereading it many years later and the magic is still there.

If you’re looking to immerse yourself in a fantastical world, buy yourself this book. Or go to the library and get it, if you’re one of those VERY cool humans.

Wild Rye Corner

We did a recent collaboration with Monsoon Matcha by Barn 10. My friend Hannah is the owner of the brand and the person I credit with my new appreciation for matcha. Like anything, there are people out there deeply passionate about the craft, and all the steps along the journey from the growers in Japan to the ceramics we drink it from.

There were strawberry sugar cookies, rye brownies, mini stacks of pancakes, and really, really delicious tea. More of these tasting events to come, so keep your eyes peeled.

It’s Sunday afternoon. We’re doing a casual hang with our good friends who live a mile away. No makeup, sweats, kids running around, whatever’s in the fridge kind of thing.

My friend calls and says, “I bought peaches because it feels like summer and I’m craving a peach dessert.”

I know what this means. What she’s asking without asking.

So over the phone, I start running through what she has in her pantry. Brown sugar. Gluten-free flour. Baking powder. As we’re talking, I’m taking a look at my own Sunday stores. Some buttermilk. A few lemons. A stick of butter.

And right there over the phone, a dessert takes shape.

“Okay gorgeous,” I say. “We’re headed over.”

This dessert is more a buckle than a cobbler, because this is a cake batter, not a biscuit dough. It’s baked in a cast iron skillet and everything happens right there in the pan: the quick cook of the peaches, the browning of the butter, the baking.

I cannot express how much I love desserts made this way.

So content in their simplicity.

This one is tender, with jammy pockets of caramelized fruit. Still bright because of the lemon. The nutmeg in the batter adds this depth I enjoy even more than the more obvious choices of cinnamon or ginger, though believe me, both would be beautiful here too.

I did not peel the peaches. I’ll continue not to. That felt like something this dessert was never asking for in the first place.

It just wanted to come to life and be served warm from the skillet. To join the Sunday hang. To honor a craving. To celebrate the coming of summer.

Recipe:

Serves 8 - 10

Ingredients

2 pounds fresh peaches, pitted and sliced
¾ cup packed dark brown sugar
Juice of one lemon

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar, plus more for the top
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
Zest of 1 lemon
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Instructions

1. Heat the oven to 350°F.

2. Set a 10 to 12-inch cast iron skillet over medium heat. Add the sliced peaches, brown sugar, lemon juice and a pinch of salt. Cook for a few minutes, stirring gently, until the peaches begin to soften and the brown sugar turns glossy and syrupy around them. Taste one. It should feel bright, not flat, so add another squeeze of lemon if it needs it.

3. Spoon the peaches and their juices into a bowl and keep them nearby.

4. Return the skillet to the stove and add the butter. Let it melt, then continue cooking until it foams, smells deeply nutty, and the bubbling slows. Remove from the heat.

5. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, sea salt, lemon zest, and nutmeg. Add the buttermilk and stir just until the batter comes together.

6. Pour the batter into the skillet, right over the brown butter. Leave it as it lands. Some of the butter will pool at the edges and make its way over the top, which is part of the charm.

7. Spoon the peaches and their syrup over the batter. Scatter a good amount of granulated sugar over the top if you want a lightly crisp top.

8. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, until the top is golden, the edges are bubbling, and the center is set.

9. Let it cool for a bit before serving. It’s best warm, straight from the skillet with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Notes:

This recipe is written with all-purpose flour, but a one-to-one gluten-free flour blend works beautifully here too.

No brown sugar? White sugar or honey will work just fine.

Hey you,

Welcome back to The Good Things.

I care a lot about being healthy. Super healthy parents, a childhood dedicated to movement and a young adulthood spent as a professional athlete will do that to you, I guess. And truthfully, many of the things I held tight to as a ballerina for the sake of being “healthy,” I’ve let go of.

Not all of those teachings were healthy, even when they paraded as such. Some were made of obsession. Others of rigid discipline. Or the quiet constant little bargain of exercise traded for dessert enjoyed. A sort of mental math I’d venture to guess a lot of us are still doing.

I worked out, so can I have this? I ate well today, will this dinner with friends undo it? And bah! What’s all this about microplastics?!

Lately I’ve been wondering if some of the unhealthy wasn’t the pastry, or the late night, or the nightcap, but the guilt I attached to it. The constant accounting for. All of the measuring. The way joy would get an internal audit before, during, or after I’d allow myself to feel it.

And sure, some of the lessons from that earlier life stayed with me for the better. Stretching regularly, as a way to decompress both the brain and the body. Always working to better oneself. Paying attention to ingredients. Really doing my research on products, habits, and lifestyle choices that make me feel good and perform well. I intend to share those favorite findings over the years right here in The Good Things.

But I decided to ask for more. To broaden the definition of a healthy life. Because some of the things that really support us will never show up in a health score. And I tell you what, the whole landscape of my life became greener. More vibrant. More alive. More flowers.

Because a stunning pastry, enjoyed in the sunshine, standing outside of a bakery with a steaming coffee in hand, can bring me back to myself. So can a hard workout. So can eight hours of sleep, or a really good dinner in a restaurant buzzing with life, or a walk with no phone, or a late night bottle of champagne split with someone who makes me laugh hard.

I know we’re not taught to put those things in the same category. But I am of the opinion that it’s time to talk about how small we’ve made the word healthy. I’d argue: health should make life feel bigger, not smaller.

So yes, vitamins. Movement. Sleep. Protein. Water with minerals. The basics that hold a life together, unsexy though they might be. And also, and just as flex-worthy: play, deep friendship, adventure, self-knowing, indulgence, and the way we love.

And maybe we can’t really consider ourselves healthy if we don’t also consider the life happening beyond the metrics. How we treat a stranger. How we show up for the people we love. How we speak to ourselves when no one else is listening.

Let’s be mentally healthy, too.

While we say yes to the fun night. And book the session with our trainer. And go on that walk in the early morning sunshine.

May we remember that joy does not have to earn its place. It’s just part of it. And may we not neglect the parts of us that no app, watch, or supplement can measure.

So that we can go out into life and live it well. Not just for ourselves, but for each other.

This Month I’m:

Listening to: Welcome to the Mood by LEISURE

Summer is imminent. This song makes me feel the way I hope to feel for much of it.

Making: “Green Drink”

I have been consistently supplementing with this for the last four years. It has become an integral part of my daily life, and I feel impressed with the need to share it with more people. I’ve been asked about it at the gym and put people on. I have gotten my friends’ parents on it. I’m all in on this.

It’s one dose of liquid chlorophyll for skin, digestion, blood support, and more, plus a scoop of BodyHealth PerfectAmino Electrolytes. I like BodyHealth because it includes trace minerals, which help support hydration, energy, muscle function, thyroid health, and cellular function. I make it with tons of ice and legitimately feel better because I take it.

Doing: Flowers by the bedside.

When I feel sad, or low, or like I’m struggling, I do things that I know will help. And I’m here to say that a small vase or coffee cup full of flowers by your bedside far outkicks its coverage.

When you get into bed, or open your eyes first thing in the morning, and see one of Earth’s most fantastical expressions of creation and life and beauty, the kind of thing that makes nectar and attracts hummingbirds, you do just live a little lighter.

Buying: Bone Broth Hot Cocoa

I hesitate even as I type the words, because quite frankly, I don’t think it sounds good when you read that. But in truth, this drink by Ballerina Farm is stupidly delicious.

It has become this nourishing, comforting thing to reach for midday or in the morning, and honestly, I’m better for it. Win also loves it at night. Made with grass-fed bone broth and collagen, cocoa powder, organic coconut sugar, nonfat dry milk, French grey sea salt, and monk fruit extract and there are 25 grams of protein in a cup. Look at me measuring ;).

Reading: In Praise of the Useless | Bertrand Russell’s Salve for Hard Times

Maria Popova’s writing has brought me to tears on many occasions. I remember first reading her blog when I was traveling solo through Europe in my early twenties and wondering how someone could string together thoughts so vast and expansive with such beautiful, unexpected words.

She makes you think. And she’ll teach you things. Follow the links and get lost in the richness that is The Marginalian, or just see the article through. Either way, it’s quite the mental and emotional ride.

Alright,

That’s it for this month. Talk to you soon.

Sarah

Hey you,
Welcome back to The Good Things.

Lately my daughter has taken a particular interest in being in the kitchen with me while I bake. And I can’t even explain what this does to me. As she’s taking notice and asking questions and wanting to stir things, my mind is filled with wonder and wondering what to make next. If I’m going to teach her, where do I begin?

It has me thinking about beginnings. About where to start. About the recipes that feel like the right first step into baking and into memory and into a life in the kitchen together.

So I started with a question: what is the beginning when you’re baking with a two year old?

For me, the answer was blueberry muffins.

I am not reinventing the wheel or doing anything revolutionary with this recipe. But I tell you what, a good blueberry muffin recipe is a lot harder to find than you might think. There are a lot of totally average ones out there. This one, well, it’s a really good one.

I’ve been writing recipes for some time now, and so many in my early days were overcomplicated attempts to prove myself and my creativity and somehow even my worth. Too many fancy ingredients. Lengthy procedures. Those are not the recipes I’m writing anymore.

Now what I need first and foremost is reliability. Meaning the recipe comes out great every time. Flexibility. Meaning I can substitute ingredients if I’m out of something, which, believe it or not, is something you can do frequently in baking. And voice. I want it to feel like me. Or the way I want people to feel when they make a recipe of mine, or eat something I made for them. Loved, comforted, happy, and lighter.

These muffins are a great place for anyone to begin. They’re incredibly good. So soft and true in their flavor. There’s lemon and so many blueberries and no vanilla, because I actually think they’re better without it. They’re surprisingly good the next day, and it doesn’t matter if your blueberries are fresh or frozen. I make this recipe 99 percent of the time with frozen berries and still. They’re my forever blueberry muffins, and my baby girl is a big fan now too.

Here’s the recipe. Happy baking.

Blueberry Muffins
Makes 12 muffins

Ingredients
¾ cup granulated sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
Zest of 1 lemon
1 stick unsalted butter, melted and cooled
¾ cup buttermilk
2 eggs
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 heaping cups blueberries, fresh or frozen
Raw or coarse sugar, for topping

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 425°F. Line a standard 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners.

2. In a large bowl, combine the granulated sugar, brown sugar, and lemon zest. Rub them together with your fingers until the sugar is fragrant and sandy from the lemon oil.

3. Add the melted butter, buttermilk, and eggs, and whisk until well combined.

4. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

5. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and gently fold until the batter is just starting to come together, with a few streaks of flour still visible.

6. Add the blueberries and continue folding just until they’re dispersed. Do your best not to over mix here for the sake of keeping your muffins tender and preventing the batter from turning blue.

7. Divide the batter evenly among the muffin cups. They will be quite full.

8. Top with a few extra blueberries, if you like, and sprinkle generously with raw sugar.

9. Bake for 20 to 22 minutes, until the tops are deeply golden, domed, and spring back lightly to the touch.

10. Let cool in the pan for a few minutes, then transfer to a wire rack and enjoy.

A few notes:
No brown sugar? Use 1 cup granulated sugar in total.
No buttermilk? Add 1 tablespoon lemon juice to ¾ cup whole milk and let it sit for 5 minutes.
No raw sugar? Granulated sugar works just fine.

This Month I’m:

Listening to: Ulla Dulla by Traffik Island
This song goes on every party playlist I make. It’s where I start when the apron goes on, the glass of wine gets poured, and I get ready to host my people. Take note of the message in the first ten seconds. A great reminder for all of us, I believe.

Cooking: Kid Pasta
Remember that Kroma Bone Broth I shared a few issues back? I really do use it all the time. Right now I’m using it to make a savory, salty sauce for Win’s pasta, and it’s so satisfying that now I’m making it for myself too. This pasta has a nod to Top Ramen, but like if Top Ramen and buttered noodles made a saucy, creamy, cheesy baby. It’s built for ease and nourishment and loving on the kid in all of us.

Here’s what I do:

• Boil any pasta you like.

• About 2 minutes before it’s finished cooking, drain most of the water, reserving about 1 cup of pasta water in the pot.

• Depending on your batch size, sprinkle in 2 to 3 scoops of the bone broth and 2 to 3 tablespoons of butter.

• Let the pasta finish cooking in the savory broth until it thickens into a sauce and the pasta is al dente.

• Finish with fresh cracked pepper and a heavy rain of grated Parmesan or pecorino.

Craving: Wild Rye Sugar Cookies
I cannot stop baking these cookies, you guys. I cannot. Sometimes all I want after a big dinner is a small sweet bite, so I’m leaning into the idea of finishing dinners with friends with a plate of cookies warm out of the oven. Recently I’ve made them with chopped dark chocolate, hazelnuts, and flaky salt, or citrus zest and just a touch of fresh rosemary, or lime with toasted coconut flakes. It’s thrilling to feel like there are so many more flavors to play with when I’m in need of a quick dessert or a thoughtful sweet surprise.

Buying: Le Bon Shoppe Boyfriend Socks
If there is an old woman living inside of me, she reveals herself in this recommendation. They’re my favorite socks. I’ve gifted them to friends who frequently check in to tell me how much they love them. I love the boyfriend style and feel a real compulsion to buy more of them, even though I already have more pairs than there are days in the week. But what can I say? They’re that good.

Reading: My Arthur Brooks report on happiness
I discovered Arthur Brooks on the Tim Ferriss podcast, and my mind keeps returning to his insights. His research on meaning, happiness, and love is not only compelling, but deeply moving and motivating to me, and I would be remiss not to share it with you. Here’s the podcast, and if, like me, you’re always curious to understand yourself a little better, I recommend his Happiness Scale Quiz for $15.

“If you don’t know what to do today and meaning feels out of reach, turn off your device and go love somebody. And it doesn’t really matter how you feel because love is an act. It’s a commitment. It’s a decision. And you’ll lift up yourself and that person and a little bit of the whole world. Happiness is love.”
— Arthur Brooks

Alright, that’s it for this month.

With love,
Sarah

P.S. Feel free to reply and tell me one good thing you’re into lately. A product, a place, a recipe, a ritual… I’m here for it.

Hey you,

Welcome back to The Good Things.

I’ve been thinking a lot about chaos. Even the word invokes this physical response in me. Like, “please no, if possible?” Or, “could we not?” And it feels like that word, that feeling, is popping up in so many areas around us right now. As I experience my own challenges, and losses, and feelings of precarity, it seems to me that the antidote to overwhelm, overstimulation, and being properly over-fucked-with by technology is presence.

To live so fully in the moment that when the moment is good, you indulge in it. You let that buzzing warmth of happiness or awe or joy or pride run free inside you, filling every corner and space of your being. It reminds you that there is also, always, good and calm and lightness. And then the feeling passes, as all feelings do. But if we have the capacity to notice it while it’s here, living gets better.

This all came to me while I was watering my plants this week. Side note: will I ever get good at taking care of succulents? I sure am trying, you guys, but my averages in this category are comically low. Anyway, I’m watering these succulents and I don’t know why, but it hit me. I really noticed them. I let myself look and wonder and appreciate. How unique they are. How full of beauty the natural world is. How these plants are living just like I am, and yet I know so little about their how. And that was it. A few minutes full of wonder amidst the most mundane of tasks.

And I was so thankful for that moment because I let the good in. And that’s been happening for me lately. As though something in me is reminding me that if we have to carry the rough stuff, then we must make room for the good stuff too. Right alongside it. Just as important.

Other examples of this simple presence this month were the group of young men I saw having dinner together, talking about the cocktails they were having and their thoughts on pork belly tacos. Just their interaction and appreciation of the dining experience melted me. And a little voice inside me whispered, “I’m like that too.” Or how stunningly beautiful my daughter looked running along the canal, backlit by the morning sun. Her hair like corn silk and her feet kicking up dust behind her. It’s as though the entire moment was sparkling. And I let that love fill me to the brim.

Presence. Of course it is so.

It’s not like they haven’t been telling us. Maybe we just have to hear it over and over again until something in us aligns with the timing of things and we remember. And it hits us good and square. Be present. Pay attention.

And I’m sure that I’ll forget again. And let the unknown of it all carry my steadiness away for a minute. But for now, I’m appreciating the remembering. I’m noticing the really little things. And feeling grateful when I do.

A Few Things I’m Into

Listening to: The Air That I Breathe — The Hollies
I can’t help but sing to this song. Maybe you need it too, to sing loud and free in your car.

Cooking:
French toast is having a moment in my household, and I have no complaints. It’s simple, quick, and utterly joy-inducing. I use really good sourdough, really good eggs, really good vanilla, and really good milk, all of which I always have on hand. What I love most is that it feels like a special treat, and yet it’s incredibly rustic and unfussy.

French Toast for Two

2 eggs
¾ cup milk
1 teaspoon good vanilla
1 teaspoon maple syrup
Pinch of salt

• Whisk everything together in a shallow bowl.

• Soak two thick slices of bread, one at a time. Don’t rush this part. Soak your second piece while the first is cooking.

• Cook over medium-low heat in butter, or ghee if you have it.

• Serve however you wish. I like it best with the lightest brush of maple syrup and a sprinkle of flaky salt.

Craving: Scar of the Sea — 2024 Topotero Vineyard Gamay
Juicy, alive, and a little bit dreamy, it’s the kind of wine you open when you want the night to feel special, easy, and just a little indulgent without trying too hard.

Buying: Weck Jars
Who knew we’d go so niche here, huh? I recently became fed up with my drinkwear situation. The sheer quantity of cups, the way it all fit in the cabinet, the mismatched lids. Maddening. The fix that has brought me the most joy? Swapping mason jars for Weck jars. They’re more soulful, better proportioned, and most importantly, they stack. They hold everything from collagen powder to flowers on the table. I’m loving the 742 and 743, but you do you.

Reading: The Lost Art of Sharing a Bottle
An interesting conversation starter if nothing else, but for me, this one landed somewhere deeper. It reinforced something I care about a lot: that there is real value in slowing down, sharing, and committing a little time to one another. A lovely reminder of my why. So, for all of you friends and loved ones who’ve shared a bottle with me, thank you. I love you. That was fun.

Wild Rye Corner:
I recently made our sugar cookie mix with brown butter, chopped dates, orange zest, and cardamom, and yeah. Wow. Deeply caramely and almost Werther’s-hard-candy-like, with a subtle little warmth from ¼ teaspoon of cardamom. Then that bright, beautifying thing that only citrus zest can do. They were special cookies. I hope you make them.

Alright, that’s it for this month.

With love,
Sarah

Hey there,

Welcome back to The Good Things.

February might be my favorite month.

It’s a stunning time of year in Phoenix. It feels like the trumpeted arrival of our state’s most lovely climate, here to accompany us for the next few months. The light on the mountain at sunset is changing. The citrus is still around, and I’m making tangelo juice cocktails from the tree in my yard. There are ducklings and birdsong, and blossoms that bring the hummingbirds.

Mmm, February! You exquisite reminder of just why I live here.

My birthday also comes this month. And with that, one of my most sacred rituals. A meditation, even. One of the great joys and pleasures of my life. One I am passionate about seeing more people do more of.

The morning after birthday cake.

Your birthday comes once a year. So, if you’re lucky, you might get a few extra chances to experience a slice of birthday cake in the morning, but your cake, your special cake, made to celebrate you and another go around the sun, you get that just once.

And here’s how I like to enjoy it best.

It’s the morning after the birthday party. The coffee is made. The first slow sips have already happened. I close my eyes. Take a moment. Open them again. Notice how the light comes in my windows at a gentle angle this time of year. I love the light in February.

And then I head to my fridge.

Because I know that I’ve saved one small piece of the cake from the night before to enjoy right now. It’s just for me. The moment is mine. And it’s cake for breakfast, unapologetically.

I like to eat my morning after birthday cake standing up, leaned against the counter, coffee steaming in a good cup beside me. It’s quiet and I’m listening. To the birds, the traffic on my busy corner, the scrape of the fork on the ceramic, my kettle beeping as it shuts itself off. I’m noticing the colors, the texture, the sweetness— of this cake made to make me feel special.

Celebrated.

I know there’s nothing “healthy” about it, cake for breakfast and all. Though I believe that pleasure and joy bring a great deal to the measure of someone’s health in life. And even though I had a piece the night before while buzzing with energy at the party or a simple dinner with friends, it’s like I’m tasting this cake for the first time. Totally present with it. Warmed by the memories of the celebrations before.

And I know it’s not going to last.

So I enjoy it. I pause to sip my coffee. I think about my friends, some of the silly things said or done, the year gone by, the year ahead, who I’ve been and who I’m becoming. But mostly I’m thinking about how goddamn lucky I am to be standing in my kitchen, barefoot, drinking really good coffee and eating birthday cake for breakfast.

Might this moment be better than birthday cake at the party?

Maybe that’s for you to explore and answer for yourself. My heart is settled.

So I implore you to try this: save one small piece of your cake for the morning after. Find time to amuse yourself with a moment that’s only yours. Indulgent. Intentionally so. Then suck that last bit of frosting off the fork, put the plate in the sink, grab hold of your coffee, and go get after your brand new year.

This Month I’m:

Listening to: Esperanza by Hermanos Guitérrez

The kind of song that could be on all day, any day. You know this by now, I like to lean into the things that make me feel good. This song does that. And it goes great with breakfast birthday cake.

“Cooking”: Strawberry Spinach Smoothies

This is a mom recipe. I won’t pretend to disguise it. I wanted my child to get some protein and greens in and I also wanted to fuel the part of me that feels like a rockstar when I feed my kid something I made that she just loves. Now I make a 2x recipe, which has just become our 1x recipe. One for me, one for her. It’s not icy (I don’t mess with smoothies like that). It’s creamy and milkshake like, a minty green color that’s pleasing and worth making for breakfast one day soon.

Strawberry Spinach Smoothie For Two:

Put everything in a blender and let it rip.

1 cup frozen strawberries

½ banana or 1 date

2 cups spinach

½ cup greek yogurt, kefir, or cottage cheese (optional, but I like it for varied sources of protein)

2 cups milk (or alt milk)

2 scoops vanilla protein powder*

1 Tablespoon hemp seeds

1 Tablespoon flax seeds

*Protein Powder: Ballerina Farm is the brand I’m currently loving if you’re in the market for a clean and also delicious protein supplement

Craving: Time.

I’m looking at my calendar these days and wondering just how much more we can add to our plates. Usually I’m one to love a full and wild life, but right now, I’m craving some time. And so I’m listening. Keeping one full or half day each week, if I’m lucky, with nothing on it. It’s not much, but I’m noticing it gives a lot back to the tank. If you’re also craving time, find that day on your calendar. No matter how many weeks out. Keep it clear, as an act of love and survival. And when it comes, enjoy it!

Buying and buying again: Kroma Wellness Bone Broth

This product surprised me. I am incredibly particular when it comes to ingredients and also flavor, and this delivers on both. It’s easy to make anytime, anywhere, and I keep it in my bag while traveling, running from meeting to meeting, or for when I want a little more protein and savory depth in what I’m cooking at home.

Reading: Prune

This cookbook from Gabrielle Hamilton, and her beloved though now devastatingly closed restaurant in NYC, inspired me to take on the challenge of working in restaurant kitchens. I reach for this book when I want to be invigorated by the simple. And when I want to show off in an understated, cool girl kind of way. It’s one of a kind, and an excellent resource for anyone looking to be an inspired host.

Wild Rye Corner:
Spotted: Wild Rye at Happier Grocery in SoHo. It’s the kind of store I love exploring, full of interesting, beautiful things. And now that curation includes us. Watching Wild Rye make its way across the country has me beaming with pride. If you’re in New York City, I highly recommend paying them a visit.

Alright, that’s it for this month.
With love,
Sarah

Welcome to The Good Things

A monthly collection of musings from me, meant to inspire, invite, and highlight the spirit of Wild Rye and the woman behind it, now lucky enough to be one part of a bigger, better team.

I’m drawn to quality, hungry for life and connection, and always interested in the stories behind the recipes, products, and people that make life more meaningful. I believe we can all use a bit of help making the days into lives we can call perfectly ours. Filled with the people, places, tastes, moments, and memories that add up to a life we love.

I know there is a lot out there wanting your attention, so know this: what you get from this newsletter will always be from my heart and intended to be useful. Here you will find recipes of all sorts, techniques for celebrating, a short story here and there, and a curated list of what I’m currently enjoying. All meant to add value to your life, not clutter.

Let’s jump in.

When I got home to the desert after an amusing, delighting, and romantic trip to Paris for a New Year’s Eve wedding, plus some time in Champagne, I realized something: we’ve really got to make a day of it.

I was wandering the streets of Epernay one morning, searching for coffee and something to eat, and I see this line of locals wrapped around the corner waiting for bread. And if you didn’t know this yet, I’m the kind of girl who gets in that line.

I watched the interactions, all happening in French. A baguette, one cake, four baguettes and a pain au chocolat. Everyone leaving with arms full of freshly baked bread, presumably headed home to their families.

And it struck me. This is just how they live. Going to the bakery is a near daily occurrence. Breaking bread is a part of their culture.

And sure, it’s a part of ours too, but how often do we make time for it? Admittedly my days before leaving for France were made up of rushing around, sipping coffee on the go, as I negotiate with my toddler to get clothes on so we can make it to the gym.

And so I’m in this line, watching how these people in this small town in the French countryside live, and I was like, “I’m bringing this back.” I’m making a day of it. Whatever day it is, whatever I’ve got on my plate, I’m gonna make it good. And I’m gonna buy the bread, or realistically, because it’s me, make the pancakes.

So this Sunday, I did just that. It took just as long as anything else would, but because I did it with intention and marked the occasion, this Sunday felt special.

For my daughter especially (insert weepy eyed emoji here).

And as I’m looking at her while she watches me cook, and then asks for more jam while she’s eating, I was moved by the meaning in it all. How I connected this thread from a small village that I may never visit again, and I brought inspiration from that simple moment back home to my family.

And I loved that Sunday morning too. So much!

It doesn’t always have to be for other people. It should also be for us. We’re worth treating.

So this month and onward, I’m making a day of it. I’m cooking with the music on, and a glass of good wine in my hand. I’m buying the bread when it’s good, and I’m sharing it with my people.

Small moments. All adding up to something that I really, really love.

This Month I’m:

Listening to: Love Really Hurts Without You by Billy Ocean

It’s what my daughter and I are dancing to in the kitchen these days. Press play, start cooking, shake your booty. Have a good time.

Cooking: Red Shrimp Pasta
I’ve got two bags of these Wild Raw Argentinian Red Shrimp from Trader Joe’s in my freezer at all times. Here’s how I’m feeding my family fast these days:

1. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil and drop in any pasta you like.

2. While the pasta cooks, heat some butter and olive oil in a pan. You want about 2 tablespoons of each.

3. Sliced garlic (about 4 cloves), lemon zest, and red pepper flakes go in next.

4. Once you can smell the garlic, add the shrimp and season with salt. They release a fair amount of liquid, which gives you this butter sauce for them to simmer in that you didn’t have to work for.

5. When the pasta has about a minute left to cook, add it to the pan with your shrimp and let everything get familiar while the pasta absorbs some of the sauce and the shrimp and pasta finish cooking together.

6. Finish with a good squeeze of lemon juice, some parsley if you have it, and a few hefty cracks of black pepper and you are in for the good stuff.

Craving: Whole milk cappuccinos. This is a habit picked up in Paris. Mostly because I was nervous to order a “cafe” and end up with an espresso… but it’s one I will be bringing with me into 2026.

Buying: Sour Cherry Preserves

American Spoon is the gold standard for me and has been for decades. Think Northern Michigan fruit. From small farmers and foragers. Made in copper kettles and made for everything from yogurt, to cocktails, to pancakes.

Reading: The Tail End
I revisit this article once a year. It is my reminder to not wish my time away, and appreciate how quickly time moves us through life. A great read as we begin another year.

Wild Rye Corner:

I mentioned them earlier, but this mix might just be the heart of Wild Rye. The magic that happens when these pancakes get made is… palpable. I felt it in the kitchen this weekend, and countless times before. I know you have too, so if you’re needing a restock, here’s the link.

Alright, that’s it for this month. Talk to you soon.
With love,

Sarah

It’s Sunday afternoon. We’re doing a casual hang with our good friends who live a mile away. No makeup, sweats, kids running around, whatever’s in the fridge kind of thing.

My friend calls and says, “I bought peaches because it feels like summer and I’m craving a peach dessert.”

I know what this means. What she’s asking without asking.

So over the phone, I start running through what she has in her pantry. Brown sugar. Gluten-free flour. Baking powder. As we’re talking, I’m taking a look at my own Sunday stores. Some buttermilk. A few lemons. A stick of butter.

And right there over the phone, a dessert takes shape.

“Okay gorgeous,” I say. “We’re headed over.”

This dessert is more a buckle than a cobbler, because this is a cake batter, not a biscuit dough. It’s baked in a cast iron skillet and everything happens right there in the pan: the quick cook of the peaches, the browning of the butter, the baking.

I cannot express how much I love desserts made this way.

So content in their simplicity.

This one is tender, with jammy pockets of caramelized fruit. Still bright because of the lemon. The nutmeg in the batter adds this depth I enjoy even more than the more obvious choices of cinnamon or ginger, though believe me, both would be beautiful here too.

I did not peel the peaches. I’ll continue not to. That felt like something this dessert was never asking for in the first place.

It just wanted to come to life and be served warm from the skillet. To join the Sunday hang. To honor a craving. To celebrate the coming of summer.

Recipe:

Serves 8 - 10

Ingredients

2 pounds fresh peaches, pitted and sliced
¾ cup packed dark brown sugar
Juice of one lemon

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar, plus more for the top
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
Zest of 1 lemon
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Instructions

1. Heat the oven to 350°F.

2. Set a 10 to 12-inch cast iron skillet over medium heat. Add the sliced peaches, brown sugar, lemon juice and a pinch of salt. Cook for a few minutes, stirring gently, until the peaches begin to soften and the brown sugar turns glossy and syrupy around them. Taste one. It should feel bright, not flat, so add another squeeze of lemon if it needs it.

3. Spoon the peaches and their juices into a bowl and keep them nearby.

4. Return the skillet to the stove and add the butter. Let it melt, then continue cooking until it foams, smells deeply nutty, and the bubbling slows. Remove from the heat.

5. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, sea salt, lemon zest, and nutmeg. Add the buttermilk and stir just until the batter comes together.

6. Pour the batter into the skillet, right over the brown butter. Leave it as it lands. Some of the butter will pool at the edges and make its way over the top, which is part of the charm.

7. Spoon the peaches and their syrup over the batter. Scatter a good amount of granulated sugar over the top if you want a lightly crisp top.

8. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, until the top is golden, the edges are bubbling, and the center is set.

9. Let it cool for a bit before serving. It’s best warm, straight from the skillet with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Notes:

This recipe is written with all-purpose flour, but a one-to-one gluten-free flour blend works beautifully here too.

No brown sugar? White sugar or honey will work just fine.