What the Kitchen Gave Back to Me
I didn’t step into the kitchen expecting to find my mother. But in the rhythm of cooking - hands moving, music playing, flavors dancing - I felt her beside me. The kitchen became a place where grief softened, joy simmered, and love, somehow, found its way back into every meal.
Sourdough + Starting Over
After 6 years in an apartment and a lifetime away from my roots, I’m starting over in the country - with a picture window, pasture views, and a sourdough starter. This is a story about flour, fresh starts, and finally calling a place home.