Fried Chicken
I can still hear my son dragging the wooden chair across the tile when I pull the chicken from the oil. The smell is round and warm, the kind of …
I can still hear my son dragging the wooden chair across the tile when I pull the chicken from the oil. The smell is round and warm, the kind of …
I can still hear the clatter of plates from that first time I made One Pan Chicken & Pineapple Tacos for my family. My little one was drumming a fork …
I can still hear the clink of my mother’s spoon against her mixing bowl as the smell of warm, savory gravy filled our small kitchen. The kids are setting the …
The sound of forks tapping the table, my daughter giggling as she mischievously arranges the napkins, and the warm steam rising from the pot that smells faintly of butter and …
The clatter of plates, my son humming a tune, and the smell of carrots and thyme filling the house—that is the sound of a good night in my kitchen. I …
I can still hear the clatter of plates from last Sunday, my youngest dragging a chair across the floor while the kitchen filled with the warm, slightly sweet smell of …
In my kitchen the moment the frittata begins to set, the house shifts into a cozy, expectant hush. The kids clatter forks and napkins while the warm, savory scent of …
The kitchen fills with that warm, homey smell that makes everyone slow down a little. I remember my kids pushing chairs back, their footsteps a soft drum as they set …
There is a particular hush that settles over my kitchen when the oven does its quiet work and the smell of roasting chicken and potatoes begins to curl into the …
I can still hear the clatter of plates as my two little ones set the table, their small hands eager to be part of the routine. The kitchen smells bright …