A story about parents.

I have a friend who moved to back to Memphis a decade ago, after many years away. She rented a house instead of buying, unsure of how long she might stay. The neighborhood she choose was a “good” neighborhood by neighborhood standards, meaning it was relatively stable, a combination of starter homes and rentals that … Continue reading A story about parents.

Rigatoni with artichoke hearts and red onion.

Sometimes, it's actually just about food. One of the things I realized on our wild mother-daughter trip was that I need to double down on getting my daughter to expand her food horizons. When she was little, I did a fairly good job of introducing new foods and tastes, and I always had the back-up … Continue reading Rigatoni with artichoke hearts and red onion.

Butternut.

Let’s keep this simple: Butternut squash is in season, as I’ve already mentioned. But perhaps you are not yet on team butternut squash and need another nudge. That hard-on-the-outside, uniquely shaped squash is one of my favorite things to cook. It strikes the perfect sweet-salty balance when prepared simply; it’s versatile; it’s good for you. … Continue reading Butternut.

Something about oceans.

The thing I remember most clearly is the feeling of terrible surprise. If I'd lived in the middle of things instead of five hours away, of course, I would be remembering, and writing, an entirely different story - if I'd been lucky enough to live to write the story. But I was in Memphis, close … Continue reading Something about oceans.

Something sentimental.

She arrived at the door with a big paper grocery sack, handed off the goods, and left promptly, knowing full well what life was like with a toddler and a new baby at home. In the grocery sack were three Ziploc bags: Wide noodles; sauce; chopped Romaine (freshly chopped from a real head of lettuce, … Continue reading Something sentimental.

Something recycled.

(Originally posted with the title, "The Moon Is Like China," on August 23, 2014. The version below is a revision and, therefore, quite a bit different from the original.) One day, at some point in our childhood, my sister and I were riding in the car, and my sister, staring out the window, said, apropos … Continue reading Something recycled.