You’re Going to Be Cared For: A Recipe for Braised Chicken Thighs
A Le Creuset Dutch oven telegraphs contentment and cheer—but for me, mine is a token of complicated bitterness and longing.
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My sister is not my best friend. She is my sister. Those are fundamentally different relationships.
What a gift it is to be asked to feed a person, but what a further gift for that person to ask if they might be taught to make what you make.
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There is a part of me, even after so many iterations of faith and years of living in an adult body, that is waiting for punishment, waiting to be banished from the Garden.
In adolescence, weekend lunches meant fending for ourselves. On certain Saturdays, my sister and I ate wafu spaghetti together.
This is an essay about soup, but it is also about friendship. Or rather, this is an essay about soup and how a friendship ends.