One of my most exasperating traits — or, perhaps one that makes me ideally suited for this space I invented, coincidentally, to suit my collection of traits — is that I have a terrific amount of random ingredient preparation ideas in the overflowing file cabinet of my brain that will spill into conversations the second I hear the triggering keyword.

I’m not sure if this is a sign of hitting a certain age — like a sudden interest in bird feeders (check, and please tell me about yours), or beekeeping (well, in the TikTok sense, not sorry), and animated conversations on the best pillows (I hate mine) — but I’ve found over the last year that I have very strong opinions on chicken salad and the correct way to make it, which, naturally, is my way. I hope I’m in the right place to release them into the world.

While I’m not from a cheesecake family — it is never unwelcome, but we are more deeply devoted to things like pastry creams, chocolate pudding, and stellar coffee cakes — I married into one, which means that even though this site’s cheesecake archives are very well-populated, not a single peep of protest could be heard as far as my apartment walls reach (to be fair, a short distance) as I tinkered with these bars over the last few weeks.

If there’s anything that’s been consistent about this site in its near-20 years of beaming (babbling?) hypertext to servers and back to you, it’s that I’m very bossy when I get into something new, especially cocktails. When I fell in love with Porch Swings, I wanted you to as well. Ditto for Blood Orange Margaritas (but only when in season), a Perfect Manhattan era that spanned over a decade, Boulevardier that has been woven into almost every year since, and a Slushy Paper Plane phase last year. This past winter and spring still, it’s been Sidecars, 1920s-era cocktails with about as many conflicting stories as my kids regale us with when they didn’t do their homework.

The author desires an easy, one-pot meal featuring leeks and lentils, highlighting their appealing aesthetics and gentle flavor. Leeks, with their beautiful color gradients, are considered a stunning and versatile vegetable, perfect for a spring-inspired dish. However, the author points out the common issue of not knowing the exact quantity of leeks when purchased. The concluding idea emphasizes the need to address the practicalities of using leeks in cooking.

I was in Paris* last week — no, I cannot believe I get to utter sentences like that so casually, either, pinch me — and it was really, truly, and surprisingly spring. The magnolia trees at the Jardin du Palais Royal supplied us with a lace curtain of fluttering pink shadows, the daffodils and hyacinth were popping up from the ground like they’d missed us, and everyone was outside and stayed out until after midnight and this energy climbed inside me, evicted all of the seasonal malaise (turned out I was just cold!), and I did my best to bring all of this warmth and joy back to NYC with me. And despite the fact that my grouchy (sorry, “weathered”) friends tried to warn me that we were experiencing a “false spring” and “don’t fall for it,” la la la, I said, it is spring in my heart now — and in my kitchen, and busted out a warm weather salad. Which is to say: I’m sorry, this sudden cold spell might be my fault.

Somehow, despite how impossible it seems (to me, a person who has neither aged nor matured a day), it’s been almost twenty years since I first told you about my family’s favorite coffee cake. It’s tall, plush, crisp with a flaky layer of cinnamon sugar on top, studded with a quilt of chocolate chips and is downright, well, adorable when cut into cubes because they’re a little wobbly. When one tumbles, it shakes off a little pfft of cinnamon sugar, like a pup coming in from today’s blizzard. It’s perfect. It needs no changes or updates.

The author's apartment building lost gas service due to a leak, forcing her to cook without a kitchen. This situation thrust her into a community of New Yorkers who have endured extended periods without gas. Despite the inconvenience, this article focuses on how to cook in such circumstances. The author's kitchen was rendered unusable for four months. She was inspired to write about it after receiving inquiries from people facing similar predicaments. The core idea is how to adapt cooking methods when a kitchen is unavailable. The author acknowledges her prior reluctance to share this experience. She aims to offer helpful advice based on her personal experience. The article addresses the challenges and potential solutions for cooking without standard kitchen equipment. The resulting resource is meant to provide practical guidance.

If you want a homemade pizza that requires no kneading, no special flour, or long wait time (because who among us has ever said “what I really crave is pizza that will be ready 1 to 3 days from now”), you should really, really be making more pan pizzas at home. You might even consider it a worthwhile addition to your 2026 cooking bucket list.

I’ve craved this specific salad all month and finally caved.

It’s been 17 months since I first questioned whether anyone even needed another recipe for a basque cheesecake — the burnished, custardy and uncluttered kind that hails from San Sebastián, Spain — and concluded that in fact, I did. I wanted one that was smaller, because I didn’t want to make a 2- to 3-pound commitment to cheese [which, honestly, sounds like a beautiful thing otherwise] every time the craving struck. A loaf pan was ideal for efficiency, portability, and easy slicing. A food processor allowed us to make the batter in just minutes, even if the cream cheese was cold from the fridge. A little cornstarch instead of flour enabled the cheesecake to be gluten-free, always a win.

The author's strongest opinion concerning Thanksgiving sides is that they should ideally be prepared in a casserole dish or gratin. This preference is not solely about ingredients like cream or cheese, but rather the practical advantages that come with using baking dishes with walls. Sides prepared this way excel at holding up during resting periods, reheat effectively, and maintain warmth for extended periods. Furthermore, baking in these dishes assists those with a single oven, as they can be carefully stacked and reheated simultaneously, although bumping the oven should be avoided.

Unless you’re living your life better than me (probably!), I bet it’s been way too long since you last had a baked potato for dinner — or, as they’re more charmingly called across the pond, “jacket potato.” And it’s a crime because they’re so cozy and uncomplicated to make, we could fix this right now.

The author declares that it's snickerdoodle season, a time of year best experienced in October. The passage describes coming inside from a cold day and wanting to relax. Suddenly, a heavenly aroma of cinnamon and sugar fills the air. It's the scent of freshly baked snickerdoodles, evoking a feeling of warmth and comfort. Eating a warm snickerdoodle is compared to a sensory experience like being in a cozy atmosphere. While snickerdoodles can be enjoyed any time, the experience is heightened during the colder months. This feeling is described as a world-altering experience, especially upon encountering cold air. The author emphasizes the blissful feeling the cookies invoke. The simple pleasure of a warm snickerdoodle brings a sense of joy. The text concludes by highlighting the special association the author has with the baked good.

The author advocates for enjoying spinach gnudi, a dish typically associated with warmer months, during the colder seasons. Gnudi, meaning "naked" in Italian, are essentially ravioli without the pasta, consisting of spinach and ricotta filling. The appeal lies in the warm, cheesy nature of the dumplings, fried in brown butter and sage, creating a symphony of fall flavors. The author highlights the dish's comforting qualities, perfect for sweater weather and a cozy meal. Traditional recipes often use fresh spinach, but this version embraces the convenience of frozen spinach. Frozen spinach offers reliability, affordability, and a readily available option regardless of the season. Using frozen spinach also simplifies the cooking process and minimizes the potential disappointment of fresh spinach shrinking during cooking. The dish celebrates the simple pleasures of warm cheese and flavorful accompaniments. The author encourages readers to try this satisfying and comforting dish this time of year.

The author introduces two favorite cakes, a Strawberry Summer Stack Cake and an Opera Cake. The Opera Cake, a layered dessert with almond cake, espresso syrup, chocolate ganache, and espresso buttercream, has always been intimidating. For two decades, the author researched homemade Opera Cake recipes but felt overwhelmed by the complexity and elements involved. The recipe includes a joconde, French buttercream, soaking syrup, and a chocolate layer. The large amount of espresso also posed a concern for children and elderly individuals. The author questioned their ability to convince readers to attempt such a complicated recipe. Eventually, the author concluded that making an Opera Cake might be best left to professional bakers.

The author annually advocates for delaying the embrace of autumn. They urge readers to resist the premature adoption of fall decorations and flavors. This is because they fear a prolonged winter and the subsequent loss of summer's warmth. The author humorously questions whether this resistance stems from a genuine love for summer or a struggle with change.

This post is for a chocolate zucchini bread recipe, but the author is known for telling irrelevant stories in their headnotes. They explain this practice by sharing a personal anecdote about how their blog, Smitten Kitchen, began. They met their husband through their writing on the blog, and the blog itself was created to fill a void after they stopped dating. This tradition of rambling stories is a key part of the blog's identity.

The author describes their two-week period without children during the summer. Instead of exciting adventures or wild parties, their activities were decidedly low-key and, in their words, "embarrassing." The author acquired orthotics and found themselves enjoying them. They also caught up on various appointments. A personal challenge was to finish library books before they were due, which they sometimes accomplished. Some evenings involved drinking eight glasses of water and going to bed by 10:30 pm. While they did go out, their outings were more about uninterrupted conversations and enjoying simple pleasures like Hugo spritzes. They observed dogs playing in a pool near a fire hydrant and reminisced about their children. A poignant realization during this time was expressing to their partner, "I miss the kids, but not parenting." The author also reflects on the quiet mornings and the absence of the usual demands of childcare.

High on the list of cooking things that I’ve got far more opinions on than anyone has ever asked of me (and may have even, at times, prayed I’d stop yapping about), are homemade ice cream sandwiches. Why? Because it’s devastating when you realize something that should bring us nothing but incandescent summer joy — ice cream! cookies! — rarely work as well as promised. Most cookies become so hard once frozen, you feel like you’re breaking a tooth with each bite. Unyielding cookies also squeeze the ice cream out the sides, leading to drips down your arms and an immediate bad mood (for adults; kids, naturally, love it). While writing Smitten Kitchen Keepers, I became obsessed with creating a deeply nostalgic homemade chipwich-style ice cream sandwich that did everything right and I had three big a-ha moments along the way:

I didn’t mean to get so carried away making focaccia over the last few months, but don’t I always say that? As if I forget how easily I get consumed with a very specific idea for what a recipe should be and cannot let it go, even when it’s past time to move on. As if it was someone else who made blueberry muffins 25 times one summer until she found what she was looking for. Thus, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised but I still am: I’ve made an obscene amount of focaccia this spring and summer trying to find the recipe I’ll want to use forever. Here are five things I learned along the way:

A friend attended a barbecue and brought store-bought items, apologizing for not having time to prepare anything. Together, the friend and the author created a platter using their hands, breaking open burrata, pitting cherries, and crushing pistachios. They finished the dish with olive oil, sea salt, black pepper, and fresh mint, serving it on store-bought crostini. The resulting platter was so impressive that dozens of people requested a recipe or tutorial after seeing a photo of it.

The author is excited to share their favorite meal for hot weather, which they've been holding back on sharing for too long. The meal is a refreshing salad that's perfect for heatwaves, but the author was hesitant to share it in case others didn't share their enthusiasm for certain ingredients. The author is self-aware of their own obsessions, such as eating large quantities of cold cucumbers and loving a specific type of tofu. They're finally ready to share their recipe, despite their concerns that others might not have the same tastes or preferences.

Alex and the author started preparing cocktails in advance and storing them in the freezer, a habit they referred to as "batching". This involved simple math and a desire to be prepared, rather than any professional expertise. Having pre-made cocktails allowed them to serve drinks at the perfect temperature, without them becoming watered down by melting ice. The author enjoys being able to surprise friends with a perfectly prepared drink when they visit, making them feel like they're excelling at impromptu hosting.

Until recently, I was fairly ambivalent about one-pan pasta recipes. I appreciate them in a pinch [here’s a longtime favorite; and this is my total comfort food], but I sometimes find that when the pasta is cooked in a sauce the whole time, it doesn’t quite get that al dente definition and structural integrity that it does when cooked in water. I’m so glad I didn’t quit on them, though, because with this recipe, not to be dramatic or anything, but I feel like I’ve finally cracked the code.

The author strongly prefers having brunch at home rather than at a restaurant, especially when they can still sleep in. They dislike waiting for a table at a restaurant, only to be served subpar food such as overcooked omelets, home fries with green peppers, and soggy bacon. In contrast, imperfections that may occur when making brunch at home do not come with a hefty price tag, such as $150 for a family of four. By cooking at home, the author can avoid these issues and enjoy a better brunch experience.

The author, despite frequently making skillet french toast, resisted writing down the recipe for almost 19 years due to a preference for more complex recipes. The author's website features various french toast variations instead of a basic recipe. However, peer pressure and the need to teach their teenager prompted them to finally document the classic recipe. This decision was driven by requests from friends and the necessity of providing a written instruction for their child.

Do you have a big, neglected cabbage in your fridge awaiting the right inspiration? I had a feeling you did. The way I figure it, the sidewalks are currently covered in pink and white petal confetti, the ramps are here, and the asparagus is close, thus I’m crossing my fingers that this can be our last hurrah with heavy winter vegetables until at least November. We’re going to make it a good one.

The author is sharing a super simple brisket recipe, previously only shared privately, designed to alleviate cooking stress during Jewish holidays. The author acknowledges that making brisket involves more than just the meat itself, including numerous other dishes and preparations. The goal is to provide a brisket recipe that uses readily available ingredients, reducing the need for extensive shopping. While the author has shared other brisket recipes, this one focuses on simplicity and accessibility. This recipe aims to ease the burden of holiday cooking by minimizing the effort required. The author believes this "stupid easy" brisket is surprisingly delicious and always receives rave reviews.

The author refers to a recipe for baked chickpeas as "Pizza Beans 2.0," a playful name that builds upon a previous recipe called "Pizza Beans 1.0." The original recipe, featured in the author's cookbook "Smitten Kitchen Every Day," combines Greek gigante beans with tomato sauce and is inspired by baked ziti. The author initially used the "pizza" label as a marketing tactic to persuade their young child to try the dish. Despite its humble origins, the recipe has become a beloved favorite that has taken on a life of its own.

The author is sharing a new lemon tart recipe despite already having a beloved one on their site. They admit to loving the simplicity and complexity of their existing whole lemon tart and lemon bars recipes. However, they can't resist the classic French lemon curd tart, typically found in Parisian pastry shops, with its crispy, buttery shell and silky lemon curd filling. The author finds this type of tart especially appealing during winter when a burst of citrus flavor is particularly welcome.

The author has been hesitant to share a potato leek soup recipe on their website, despite its simplicity and comforting nature. However, with the arrival of January, the author's cravings for hearty and filling soups are reignited, reminiscent of their experiences with thick vegetable porridges in Ireland. January's cold weather makes it the perfect time to indulge in comfort food, and the author is committed to providing recipes that fit the bill. The author aims to provide comforting recipes to help get through the bleak winter month.

Twelve years ago, I shared my mother-in-law's recipe for apple sharlotka, a simple and rustic apple dessert that's a cross between a crêpe and a cake. Despite its simplicity, it gained a lot of attention with over 1000 comments and variations popping up online. This new version, Sharlotka 2.0, is the "Fancy Pants Edition" of the original recipe. It builds upon the simplicity of the original while adding more complexity and sophistication.

The process of making chicken noodle soup should be straightforward, and there are various recipes available to choose from. Despite having existing recipes, the author felt compelled to create another one due to their restless nature and desire for improvement. The author's motivation for creating a new recipe stemmed from their dissatisfaction with traditional chicken noodle soup, particularly the tendency for the chicken to become overcooked and dry. The solution they propose is using buoyant and tender chicken meatballs instead of regular chicken, which helps to avoid the common problem of overcooking and results in a more enjoyable eating experience.

The author is aware of the traditional food internet focus on Thanksgiving dishes like turkey, stuffing, and pie, but chooses to deviate from this trend. Instead, they want to share a personal favorite dish they've been making lately to satisfy their cravings. This dish consists of mixed vegetables roasted on a sheet pan until almost charred, then finished with a balsamic vinaigrette. The roasted vegetables are also topped with crispy, salty halloumi cheese for added flavor and texture.

The author's recent obsession with making macaroni and cheese started after their kids enjoyed it at a restaurant and fought over the leftovers. The author decided to make it for their kids at home, but found a popular recipe by Martha Stewart to be too complicated and time-consuming. The recipe required multiple pans, bowls, and steps, which felt overwhelming for a weeknight. This led the author to seek a simpler way to make macaroni and cheese.

The author admits to having a list of food-related grievances, including the belief that apple cider cakes often do not live up to their name. Despite the use of fresh-pressed apple cider, the flavor rarely comes through in the final product. The author acknowledges that these cakes can still be delicious with the addition of cinnamon spice, but they do not accurately represent their name. This confession is shared in advance of discussing a particular cake recipe.

“I was looking for a simple roasted carrot recipe on your site and couldn’t find one,” a friend told me a month ago and I immediately put “simple roasted carrot recipe” on my sprawling, decades-long To Cook list because sometimes I forget myself, too. Spoiler: I was never going to write a simple recipe for roasted carrots.

What if I told you I had a from-scratch cinnamon roll recipe that was effortlessly veganized, required no kneading, and could be coming out of your oven in just over two hours? And what if I told you’d I’d been making it for years and didn’t tell you about it because I thought, for some bizarre reason, that the site didn’t need another breakfast bun recipe? Yes, I’d throw a jar of cinnamon at my head too. Good news, though, you can stop yelling now because I’ve come to my senses.

September brings the realization of the end of carefree summer and the return of hectic schedules. Despite a busy year-round work schedule, the author faces increased responsibilities with the start of the school year. Finding a quick and easy dinner solution, the author discovered a recipe for crispy sheet pan chicken with lemon and onion. Skeptical about achieving crispy skin, the author experimented by adding potatoes and chickpeas to a baking dish. Despite deviating from the original recipe, the result was highly satisfying, leading the author to share the modified recipe. The dish's simplicity and convenience, with everything cooked in one pan, make it an ideal choice for busy weeknights.

The author's ideal salad combines elements of wedge salad and Napa cabbage. Napa cabbage is versatile, with a leafy, crunchy, and juicy texture that enhances various salads, from Italian-style to Caesar. It is convenient due to its availability in large heads. The author particularly enjoys wedge salad and believes Napa cabbage deserves more recognition as a salad green.

Fruit crisps often overcook before the fruit cooks through due to the dark and sugary topping. The author's preferred solution is to give the fruit a head start by cooking it separately. While doing so, the author realized they were essentially making a caramel sauce, which became their preferred topping. This eliminates the issue of uneven cooking and results in a superior crisp.

After their children went to summer camp, the author and their partner embarked on a month of social and culinary exploration. However, by the third week, the demanding schedule took its toll, revealing that their former child-free lifestyle was no longer sustainable due to their age and decreased energy levels. The couple realized that their template for a child-free life was based on their younger selves and that they needed to adjust their expectations accordingly.

This has been my go-to summer steak for the last several years and I have some audacity to have gatekept it for so long. Mostly, we’ve been too busy eating it for me to grab the camera and shoot it and then sit down and write the recipe, which is hilarious as that’s, like, my whole job. But my brain softens in the summer, especially when my kids are away at sleepaway camp, as they are now, and we quickly lose whatever tethers we had to things like to-do lists, responsibilities, and adulting. And while I do not expect a skirt steak with a cherry tomato and sweet corn salad to shake the cooking internet off its axis, there are a bunch of tips tucked into this recipe that make it a reliable favorite, and I hope become part of your repertoire too.

Even though my kids are not yet on summer break and even though I, as an adult, do not have a thing called a summer break, I’ve apparently helped myself to one. I’m sneaking off to the beach on weekdays (oops), reading novels, gorging myself on cherries and crisp-from-the-market cucumbers, playing midday tennis like a lady who lunches, and getting vexed when I receive work-related emails and texts. [“Alex, why are they texting me on a Sunday?” “Deb, it’s Tuesday.”]

While I do not think that the internet necessarily needs another recipe for burnt Basque cheesecake, it turns out I did. And since you’re stuck with me for as long as you’re here, pull up a chair, because we can’t get enough of this one.

My superpower? Dropping recipes so late on the Friday of a holiday weekend, absolutely nobody will see them. Well, except you. I’m here for us last-minute planners, we indecisive “I want to make something new this weekend, but nothing has jumped out at me.” I hope we can stop scrolling now.

It’s been about what how has it been almost 8 years since I overhauled an old blueberry muffin recipe in the archives to turn them into what I consider the highest calling of the category, perfect in taste (not too sweet, dreamy crumb, lemon scented, absolutely riddled with blueberries, and finished with the crunchiest bronzed lid, perfect for lifting off in a satisfying shell and swiping the underside with salted butter) and ease (one-bowl, hand-whisked, even measurements, fuss free ingredients). Because who cares if a muffin recipe is perfect if I can’t throw it together half-asleep like the zombie I am most mornings? I’m thrilled that so many of you agreed.

Letter of recommendation: Make a deep skillet of your favorite taco or burrito filling, cover it with cheese and broil the whole lot of it in the oven, then scoop it up with tortilla chips. I hope you’re not asking “Why?” Because I know you heard the part about the lightly charred and gooey cheese on top? Did I mention that you get to eat chips for dinner, which, to be fair, you can do anytime you want (adulthood!) but this actually involves a lot of vegetables (adulthood excellence!).

Artichokes are my favorite vegetable. My favorite way to eat them is the way I have my whole life: cooked whole, each leaf dipped in a sharp lemony sauce until you get to the heart, whose choke you free with a butter knife then schmear with the sauce like you’re thickly buttering a piece of bread, and eat it while holding the stem like a lollipop, your eyes closed as you absorb the heady bliss of it all. Clearly, it means a lot to me but I’m not sharing a recipe with three words: Just boil them. A few years ago I started steaming artichokes instead of boiling them and found I preferred it — less wet, and seemingly more evenly cooked. But it still didn’t warrant mention here, though, too simple.