
Photo: Molly
The day beets were served at nursery school I finally earned my first gold star.
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Photo: Molly
The day beets were served at nursery school I finally earned my first gold star.
Continue reading
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My nickname is McGyver and I’m not much of a cook, so this isn’t going to be a cooking story.
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Who is this “me” that expresses thanks? So much spirit in a carrier oil. This moment — This pumpkin pie curd Smashed against strong teeth — This coffee, dark, at the end of a meal — My heart unbuttoned, … Continue reading
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There’s no freedom in food. I’m locked in to my desires, ripped like a piece of fabric between the cravings and the need for sustenance. Sugar is my mistress, brandishing a black licorice whip, astride a pink cupcake
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He cooked for me. Every day of cancer treatment. The fridge was full of tasty, nutritious soups and quinoa salad stored in glass (we’d thrown out all plastic within a month of diagnosis, along with the Teflon coated cookware) containers. … Continue reading