I have buyer's remorse waaaay too often. This is mostly the case with shoes. There's just something about those cute little mirrors in shoe stores—I think the angles make my ankles look too heavenly. Those little mirrors make me think sure, I can walk all day in these heels! When in reality I can barely walk down the hallway at home in the morning, much less to my car, across the parking lot, and all day around the office. Thus, every spring and summer I end up with several pairs of shoes that I wear once—and then leave in the closet to collect dust. Buyer's remorse. I also occasionally have cook's regret. I spend waaaay too much on a tin of New Zealand Dried on the Backs of Endangered Calico Turtles Turquoise Sea Salt (yes, those caps are necessary) when in reality a pinch or two of good ol' budget-friendly Morton's coarse kosher salt will do. Cook's regret. And I've often spent hours making a recipe that takes me waaaay too far out of my comf...

There are a lot of things I like about being an adult. Dessert first. Donuts for lunch. Bravo TV. Booze. Last-minute travel. Cold pizza and coffee for breakfast. Staying up way late. (OK, I used to like doing that.) Driving at night with the windows down, the stereo cranked, and the a/c blasting. Marriage (and the fun stuff that comes with it). And parenthood. Yes, I love my little boogers like nobody's business. But there is one thing about parenthood that drives me nuts. Dinnertime with children. Y'all, I knew what I was getting into when I had kids. I knew life with kids would be loud and messy and emotional and sticky and sweet and heartbreaking—sometimes all of those things at once. But I was not prepared to lose my time in the kitchen, my calm dinners, my ability to have a conversation with my husband without punctuating each sentence with—take your pick—One hand in your lap, We don't eat with our hands, Stop using your shirt as a napkin, We sit while we eat, ...

I'm not the kind of person who jump on bandwagons. I'm fairly questioning of most things I read. And I'm not quick to trust. But I am loyal. And faithful. And when I like something, I really like it. That especially applies to recipes. This Southern grits breakfast casserole is family favorite. This homemade beef stroganoff is one of our go-to meals. And I've made this broccoli casserole more times than I can count. I know a good thing when I make it. I'm also not one of those people who tends to plan, shop, prep, and cook enough food for a month. First, it's because I don't think end times are upon us. Second, it's because I like to eat fresh food, not thawed, rehydrated, and heated food. And third, it's because I get tired of eating the same thing again and again. (Unlike my children because oh my gravy they want the same things all the time. Just a moment of honesty from a mom who's made 7,659 PBJs in the last year.) I'm sure it...

An alternate title for this recipe could be Can't Make Up My Mind Peach Pie . Because, you see, my boys started school last week, which means the calendar is pushing September. And it's closer to the time of year Southern weather isn't so thick you can fill a water gun without turning on the hose. So while the delicious farmers-market North Carolina peaches my dad dropped off were calling my name—I wasn't all that interested in a mid-summer double-crust peach pie. I wanted a bit of crunch. I wanted cinnamon. I demanded a taste of fall (a whole month before it's scheduled to arrive). Enter this Peach Pie With Oatmeal Crumble Topping, a crumble you might typically see on an apple pie in the fall. (I seem to have had this affliction before . Life is cyclical, so they say.) I found the no-roll easy crust recipe on Pinterest . I admit I never saw Maw Maw make a pie crust this way. Hers were always light, flaky, and rolled by hand. But when you're short on ti...

Imagine with me a world where he or she has been missing for awhile. How do they re-arrive? Well, musical artists come roaring back to the stage with an update to their style, creating a self-applied relevancy to their music. Athletes come running back onto the field with an urgency, taking it upon themselves to put their team at the pinnacle of success. Sometimes they reach that high note. (See: Madonna) Sometimes they fumble. (See: Favre) And sometimes it remains to be seen. (See: Confabulation in the Kitchen) I could bring to the table a recipe of invention and individuality, in which I showcase the Next Big Thing. Or I could sneak in without letting the screen door slam and leave on your counter a pie that will tickle your taste buds and maybe take you back to that place you've been missing, be it your grandmother's kitchen or your parents' patio. To be honest, that's all I really want. I want to be a back-door friend, one who doesn't have to knock. I want...