Comfort food doesn’t always have to be fattening.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Sure, there’s a place for amazing fried chicken, gooey mac and cheese, Mom’s biscuit and gravy and double chocolate cake. If I let myself eat like that as often as it sounds good, I’d be 10 times my size.

So, I’ve been on a healthy comfort food kick. Healthy meals can be just as rich, delicious and stick to your ribs as pot roast on a bed of creamy mashed potatoes.

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I’ve had a rash of yuck lately.

It started with a feeling of impending yuck.
Then there was the major, my-world-is-exploding yuck.
Then there was Jamaica–not yuck.
But, the coming back from Jamaica was super yuck (a little post-vacation depression?).
And then there was a minor yuck which felt like a major yuck because of all the other yuck.

Do you do that? Once you fall into a great big vat of yuck, everything other instance feels ten times as yuck as it should? That was my yesterday.

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The most recent addition to my cookbook collection is a fantastic cookbook called Southern Cakes: Sweet and Irresistible Recipes for Everyday Celebrations.

I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I never have, really. Growing up, I’d rather eat a nectarine than a slice of cake.

So, it’s surprising how much I love this book. It’s the sentiment for sure. Each recipe is paired with a snippet that tells the origins of the cake or the typical Southern traditions surrounding it. Nancie McDermott, the author, shares stories of growing up in the kitchen of her grandparents’ farmhouse. Reading her nostalgia sends me into my own and inspires me–I want to pull a Julie Powell and make every recipe from cover to cover. (more…)

It’s official. I am NOT a fan of turnips.

It pains me to say it. I’ve tried to like them. I’ve fried them. I’ve mashed them. I’ve made them au gratin. I’ve covered–no smothered–them in cheese. And, I just can’t do it.

I’m really not a hater. In general, but especially when it comes to food. It’s true. I’ve always been a hearty eater, willing to try just about anything. My parents never had to hide the broccoli in my macaroni and cheese or make me sit at the table until my plate was cleared. It just wasn’t an issue. I’m one of those people who eats everything on her plate. Or, at least eats equal portions of everything. I’m a compassionate eater–I don’t want the creamed spinach to feel left out.

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I haven’t cooked a MacGyverism in a while. It hasn’t been due to lack of inspiration or motivation. Rather, the fault is with my control freakery.

I make a meal plan each week based on what I get in my Greenling box, what’s growing in my garden or what my husband is craving (usually green chile enchiladas). I then do my grocery shopping to fill in the missing ingredients. I don’t hold to a strict calendar–I just have a list of meals that I know I have the ingredients to make.

I’ve been pretty on top of my game ever since we got back from Mexico. I suppose I welcomed routine after having a bit of a break.

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