Camping eats, elevated.
This is the kind of bowl food I dream about.
A recipe that lets you play with your food.
Home is an idea, I think. It’s not a building. It’s not even people. It’s the feeling that you can rest, without trying to be too much or too little, and just be.
You can see the colorful hills of Tijuana from my grandparents’ sprawling house in Point Loma.
I’ve never been patient.
Despite looking like an adult most days, I still feel the 18-year-old in my brain do a victory dance when I get it together.
From a young age, I’d decided to be dramatically opposed to chicken at all times, especially when it arrived at our kitchen table in still-obviously-a-chicken form. Then I moved to Italy.