As I return to a place I used to know well, most things remind me of other things I thought I’d forgotten.
For two years, during summers and Christmas breaks, I sold women’s shoes at Nordstrom.
We’re saying goodbye our first Gritty Kitchen this week.
If you’re going to live in Boston forever, summers are your reward and seasonal amnesia is your coping mechanism.
I love camping. I love it when things go wrong but you stay anyway. I love setting up a little home in the woods, not showering, sitting with a book in hand and knowing that there’s nothing to do but read.
Another glorious dip recipe, plus an ode to the most terrible apartment I ever lived in
— and the wonderful people who lived there with me.
You can see the colorful hills of Tijuana from my grandparents’ sprawling house in Point Loma.
My musings on birthdays, center-of-attention stress and soul-nourishing pasta.
When I cook, I think. Lately, I’ve been thinking about the strange bittersweetness of leaving the life I’ve made for myself in Boston, to walk back to the life I was born into in Seattle.
Moving apartments in Boston constitutes a special kind of hell, one laced with buckets of stress and sweat, plus a side of logistical misery.
Check out our “before we leave Boston” bucket list.
While a lot has changed for my husband and I over the past 6 years, two things remain the same: our love of good food and our wicked fun date nights.