ENTREES

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The Very Best Instant Pot Lentil Soup, Because I Said So

I would not consider myself a "soup person." Soup seems to me like a thing you let someone else order and then take a sip of, while you go ahead and eat the steak that you very smartly ordered instead. But last week I got a completely random craving for lentil soup, and made it...and have since made it three times - the last time for Francesca, who thought she was getting sick, and then didn't, because in addition to being unbelievably delicious this soup is also a miracle potion with magical curative powers.

You should make it.

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ENTREES

Instant Pot Creamy Chicken & Mushroom Tetrazzini

I would like to officially announce that I shall be commencing my residency as "That Blogger Chick Who Won't Shut Up About Her Instant Pot." I can't help it; it makes me feel like a GENIUS.

Enter the dish I fully went ahead and improvised the other night, because I happened to have chicken thighs and mushrooms in the refrigerator, because everybody likes cream, and because my son requires pasta to be present in 100% of his meals. Presto: Creamy Chicken & Mushroom Tetrazzini. (I'm not sure this is technically tetrazzini, but whatever: My recipe, my rules.)

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An Instant Pot Trial By Fire

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I have been dying for an Instant Pot. But only because everyone on the Internets told me I should be dying for an Instant Pot; I didn't even know what these things do, exactly. Aren't they just...crockpots? ...Sort of?

Apparently Instant Pots cook meals in a fraction of the time you'd expect...but, as I completely do not understand the science behind pressure-cooking, it is very hard for me to believe that a meal that should ordinarily take eight hours to cook can take half an hour. That's some magic shit right there.

DIARY

Still There

I've had many summers that felt like little jewelboxes of time, sweet and slow - the one we spent living in temporary housing while we waited for our daughter to be born comes to mind - but there was one that was wonderful in a completely different way than all the others.

It was the summer after Kendrick and I moved from our tiny Hell's Kitchen place to our slightly-less-tiny Upper East Side apartment. The summer that I quit my office job, and started writing for a living (well, that was the plan, in any case). The summer that we were working out how to be married and wondering how in the world we were going to pay our rent and trying to figure out what we wanted to be when we grew up...but it was so exciting. The sheer possibility of it all. We were children standing on the edge of adulthood, thinking about jumping.

We had a little crew that summer. Stephen and Dave, of course - we had rooftop cocktails with them most nights, Lucy whizzing in circles around us while we watched the setting sun light up all that silver paint. Francesca was living in the city then, just a few blocks away, and a few of Kendrick's other friends from college lived at various points along the 6 line. We'd all go out to terrible bars and drink terrible drinks and stay up far too late, because we were still so young, and it still felt like bad choices were a life imperative.

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11 Pasta Recipes For National Pasta Day

Me. Rooftop. Ten million years ago.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She wore blazers and red lipstick, and lived in a fourth-floor walkup apartment with a hole in its floor and a stove that routinely tried to kill her. One day, she decided that she wanted to quit her terrible, horrible job in HR (a job that mostly involved her crying at - and sometimes under - her desk), and write a blog.

...What would this blog be about?


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