Oh friend… gather ‘round, because I have a confession and a mission, and both involve chocolate. 

If there’s one thing I can count on Miss Ivy eating almost every single day of the week, it’s some variation of a chocolate chip muffin. Chocolate chip, double chocolate chip… if it’s got chocolate and vaguely resembles a muffin, she’s in. Honestly, it’s one of the few “safe foods” that always works, so I lean in.

But here’s the thing.

She LOVES those big, bakery-style muffins from the grocery store. You know the ones...tall, domed, slightly sparkly tops, wrapped in crinkly paper that somehow makes them taste even better? Yeah. Those.

We have spent… an embarrassing amount of money on those muffins.

And listen, I’m not above a grocery store treat. But at some point, standing there with my receipt and my dignity in tatters, I thought: Christine. You bake bread for fun. You can figure out a muffin.

So here we are.

Meet the Muffins That Might Save My Grocery Budget

These Sourdough Discard Double Chocolate Muffins are my latest attempt to win back both my wallet and my pride. And honestly? They might be the ones.

They’re rich, chocolatey, soft, and just the right amount of indulgent. Plus, they give me an excuse to use up sourdough discard, which makes me feel like the kind of person who has her life together—even if I absolutely do not.

I didn’t make them huge and bakery-style this time (turns out, I do not own the proper liners… shocking), but I did sprinkle a little turbinado sugar on top for that sparkle and crunch. Because if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.

And then, in a shocking twist no one saw coming… I ate more of them than Ivy did.

Growth is a journey.

The Secret (That Requires Patience… I Know, I Know)

Here’s the deal. If you want that beautiful, tall, bakery-style muffin rise? The kind that makes you feel like you should be charging $4.75 each?

You’ve got to wait.

Make the batter the night before, cover it, and let it hang out in the fridge overnight. That extra time lets the flour fully hydrate, the flavors deepen, and the batter thicken in the best way.

And the result? Muffins with that gorgeous springy dome and tender crumb.

Trust me—your patience will pay off. (Even if you complain about it the whole time. I did.)

Sourdough Discard Double Chocolate Muffins

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• ½ cup cocoa powder
• 1 teaspoon espresso powder
• 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
• ½ teaspoon baking powder
• ½ teaspoon salt
• 2 eggs, room temperature
• ¾ cup sour cream
• ½ cup vegetable oil
• ⅓ cup whole milk
• ⅓ cup sourdough discard (about 100g)
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1 ½ cups chocolate chips
• Turbinado sugar, for sprinkling (optional but highly recommended for sparkle )

Instructions

1. Mix the dry ingredients
   In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, espresso powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.
2. Mix the wet ingredients
   In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, sour cream, vegetable oil, milk, sourdough discard, and vanilla extract until smooth.
3. Bring it all together
   Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and gently mix until just combined. Don’t overmix—lumpy batter is your friend here.
4. Add the chocolate chips
   Fold in the chocolate chips like the generous, chocolate-loving person you are.
5. The overnight magic (don’t skip this if you can help it)
   Cover the bowl and place the batter in the fridge overnight.
6. Bake day
   The next day, preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C). Line a muffin tin (even if they’re not bakery-sized… we persevere).
7. Fill and sparkle
   Scoop the batter into the muffin cups, filling them about ¾ full. Sprinkle the tops with turbinado sugar.
8. Bake
   Bake for 18–22 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out with a few moist crumbs (not wet batter).
9. Cool (or don’t)
   Let them cool for a few minutes… or immediately burn your tongue because you couldn’t wait. Your call.

Will these completely replace the grocery store muffins?

Jury’s still out—Miss Ivy is a tough critic with strong muffin opinions.

But they’re softer, richer, made with ingredients I actually recognize, and significantly easier on the budget. And if I’m being honest… I kind of hope she doesn’t eat all of them.

Because I’d like a few for myself. For research purposes, obviously.

My beautiful friends…you all know me well enough by now to know that I loves me some comfort food. And if you’re new—hey there! Welcome! I’m so glad you’re here, and I really hope you like cheese. A lot of cheese. Possibly an unreasonable amount of cheese.

But I digress.

Ivy’s dad just started a new job (YAAAAAAAAAAYYYY!!!), which is amazing and wonderful and we are so grateful…aaaaand also it has thrown a giant, chaotic wrinkle into our daily routine. Suddenly life feels like a high-stakes game of Tetris, and unfortunately, I am deeply unqualified. Pieces are falling, nothing is fitting, and somehow dinner is supposed to happen every single night??

Rude.

Between getting everyone where they need to be and trying to keep actual humans fed (again, rude), I’ve been leaning hard into freezer meals and make-aheads. Because if Future Me can do Past Me a solid, I’m not going to stand in her way. And since I love you, I want to make your life easier too.

Enter: this Chicken Enchilada Skillet situation. Cozy, cheesy, deeply satisfying, and—most importantly—not trying to ruin your evening.

This recipe is so good and requires just a smidge of planning ahead (or, you know, a last-minute grocery run while whispering “we’ve got this” to yourself in the parking lot). Grab some pre-cooked chicken breast and a batch of homemade enchilada sauce. I love the one from Karrie Truman’s Seriously Good Freezer Meals cookbook—and listen, I know there’s peanut butter in it. I KNOW. Stay with me. Do not knock it until you try it. It’s magic.

But also, if you have a favorite store-bought enchilada sauce? Use it. I don’t judge. This is a safe space.

The real genius here, though? We are not rolling enchiladas. Not today. Not in this season of life. We are cutting up corn tortillas and tossing them right into the skillet like the time-saving legends we are. Same cozy vibes, way less effort, significantly more sanity.

Top this bad boy with whatever makes your heart happy, serve it up, and then take a moment—just a moment—to pat yourself on the back. You fed your people. You survived the day. You won this round of the video game of life.

And honestly? That deserves extra cheese.

Chicken Enchilada Skillet with Homemade Enchilada Sauce

Ingredients

For the skillet:

• 2 cups cooked chicken breast, shredded or chopped
• 8 small corn tortillas, cut into bite-sized pieces
• 2 cups enchilada sauce (homemade or store-bought)
• 1 ½ cups shredded cheese (cheddar, Monterey Jack, or a blend—measure with your heart)
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• ½ small onion, diced
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• Salt and pepper, to taste

Optional toppings (highly encouraged):

• Sour cream
• Avocado or guacamole
• Fresh cilantro
• Diced tomatoes
• Jalapeños
• A squeeze of lime

Quick Homemade Enchilada Sauce (Peanut Butter Magic Included)

• 2 tablespoons oil or butter
• 2 tablespoons flour
• 2 tablespoons chili powder
• 1 teaspoon cumin
• ½ teaspoon garlic powder
• 2 cups chicken broth
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste
• 1 tablespoon peanut butter (trust the process)
• Salt, to taste

Instructions:

1. In a saucepan, whisk together oil and flour over medium heat to form a paste.
2. Stir in chili powder, cumin, and garlic powder until fragrant.
3. Slowly whisk in chicken broth until smooth.
4. Add tomato paste and peanut butter, stirring until fully combined.
5. Simmer until slightly thickened. Taste and add salt as needed. Try not to eat it straight from the pan (or do, I won’t tell).

Skillet Instructions

1. Heat olive oil in a large oven-safe skillet over medium heat.
2. Add diced onion and cook until soft, about 3–4 minutes. Add garlic and cook for another 30 seconds.
3. Stir in the cooked chicken and enchilada sauce. Let it all get cozy together.
4. Fold in the tortilla pieces, making sure they’re coated in all that saucy goodness.
5. Sprinkle cheese over the top like you mean it.
6. Either cover and let it melt on the stovetop or pop the skillet under the broiler for a couple minutes until bubbly and golden.
7. Remove from heat and pile on your favorite toppings.

Serve it straight from the skillet (because dishes are not the vibe right now), gather your people, and dig in.

You’ve got this. And dinner? Dinner is handled.

My beautiful friends, I have a confession.

You all know that the kids both deal with ARFID, so a lot of the time what I cook for Ivy and her brother (and, let’s be honest, their dad too) looks wildly different from what ends up in my own bowl. I am out here running a short-order kitchen most nights, and while I would love to say I float through it like some kind of serene, veggie-chopping goddess… sometimes I am just very, very tired.

And when that happens?
“Balanced meals” quietly exit the chat.

Because here’s the truth: sometimes I get too worn out cooking three different dinners to also make mine aggressively healthy. And yet… I still want to feel like I’ve done something good for my body. Enter: cruciferous vegetables… wearing a cozy little disguise of cheese and beer.

This soup is that compromise.

It’s warm, it’s creamy, it’s packed with roasted cauliflower (we love a queen), and yes—it contains a generous handful of white cheddar and a splash of beer. Is it technically healthy? Debatable. Is it healthy-ish if you squint and believe in yourself? Absolutely.

Honestly, I almost can’t even call this a recipe because it’s so simple. It’s more like… a gentle suggestion with cheese.

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Cheesy Roasted Cauliflower Beer Soup

Ingredients

• 1 large head of cauliflower, cut into florets
• 2–3 tablespoons olive oil
• Salt (be generous, your future self will thank you)
• 1 small onion, diced
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 cups broth (chicken or vegetable)
• 1 cup beer (something mild—nothing too bitter)
• 1–1½ cups shredded white cheddar cheese
• Freshly cracked black pepper
• Optional: pinch of smoked paprika or thyme for extra coziness

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Instructions

1. Roast the cauliflower
   Preheat your oven to 425°F. Toss the cauliflower florets with olive oil and salt, spread them out on a baking sheet, and roast for about 25–30 minutes until golden and a little crispy on the edges.
   Pro tip: Save a handful of those gorgeous roasted bits for topping later. We love a garnish moment.
2. Sauté the aromatics
   In a large pot, heat a little olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and celery with a pinch of salt and cook until soft and fragrant, about 5–7 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another minute.
3. Build the soup
   Add the roasted cauliflower (except your reserved garnish), then pour in the broth and beer. Bring it to a simmer and let it bubble gently for about 10–15 minutes so everything can get cozy together.
4. Blend it smooth
   Grab your immersion blender and blend until silky and smooth. (Or carefully transfer to a blender in batches if you’re feeling brave.)
5. Add the cheese (the best part)
   Stir in the shredded white cheddar until melted and dreamy. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
6. Serve it up
   Ladle into bowls, top with those reserved roasted cauliflower bits, maybe an extra sprinkle of cheese if you’re feeling wild, and call it a win.

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Notes from a Tired but Hopeful Cook

This is the kind of meal that meets you where you are. It doesn’t judge you for being exhausted. It doesn’t require ten side dishes or a perfectly curated plate. It just shows up, warm and cheesy, whispering, “You tried. That counts.”

So if you’re out here juggling different meals, different needs, and just trying to get through the week with a little joy intact—this soup is for you.

Take your wins where you can, my friends. Even if they come with cheddar. 

There are moments in my kitchen—rare, sparkly little moments—where I feel like I’ve unlocked some ancient, cozy superpower.  As much as I dream of being that person who's lives on a "homestead" and I can make every single thing ordinary people buy at the store, I'm not.  So when I go full made it myself instead of buying it, I get a little excited.

And every now and then, my beautiful friends, I do something that makes me feel magical.

I’ve baked bread for so long now that I don’t really get that full-on “Domestic Goddess” rush anymore. (Don’t get me wrong—I will never stop loving the smell of fresh bread. Bread is a personality trait in this house.) But making cheese? Oh. Oh, that’ll do it.

Making cheese feels like wizardry.

Now—is it hardcore cheese? Absolutely not. Because #1: I’m not insane. And #2: okay, maybe I am a little insane, but I’m pretty sure Ivy’s dad would have me gently escorted to an asylum if I started aging my own cheddar wheels in the living room.  Sometimes my food photography setup almost pushes him over the edge.  I'm not taking any chances.

So we’re keeping things approachable. Friendly. Non-commitment-level cheese. We’re making ricotta.  And trust me, this is the kind of kitchen magic you can absolutely get away with. No one calls for help. No one questions your life choices. You just casually turn milk into cheese like it’s no big deal.

Milk. Salt. Acid. That’s it.

You heat it, you stir, you watch it transform—and suddenly you’re standing there like, “I did that.” Wooden spoon wand and all.

Not me, though. I am extremely humble about my powers. Obviously.

Homemade Ricotta Cheese

Ingredients:

• 8 cups whole milk (do not use ultra-pasteurized if you can help it)
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup lemon juice or white vinegar

Instructions:

1. In a large pot, heat the milk and salt over medium heat until it just begins to simmer (about 190–200°F if you’re feeling precise).
2. Remove from heat and gently stir in the lemon juice or vinegar.
3. Let it sit undisturbed for 10 minutes. Watch the curds form like actual kitchen sorcery.
4. Line a strainer with cheesecloth and set it over a bowl.
5. Pour the mixture into the strainer and let it drain for 10–20 minutes, depending on how thick you like your ricotta. I use it a lot for ziti, so I'm at that 20 minute mark.
6. That’s it. You made cheese. Take a moment. You deserve it.

Now, technically, you could stop here and just eat warm ricotta straight from the spoon over the sink like a gremlin. No judgment.  After all, taste testing is definitely required, am I right?

But if we’re leaning into our magical era, we’re going to make something a little extra. Something soft and pretty and just a tiny bit indulgent.

Whipped Ricotta Toast with Honey & Strawberries

This is the “I casually make cheese now” serving suggestion.

Ingredients:

• 1/2 cup fresh ricotta
• 1 tablespoon honey (plus more for drizzling)
• 1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
• 2 slices sourdough bread, toasted
• Fresh strawberries, sliced
• Fresh mint (optional, but very “I have my life together”)

Instructions:

1. Add the ricotta, honey, and lemon zest to a mini food processor.
2. Blend until smooth and fluffy.
3. Try really, really hard not to eat it straight from the bowl. (No promises.)
4. Spread generously over toasted sourdough.
5. Top with sliced strawberries.
6. Drizzle with more honey.
7. Add fresh mint if you’re feeling fancy and/or emotionally stable.

And there you have it.

You made cheese. You made it pretty. You put it on toast like the domestic goddess you absolutely are—even if your wand is a wooden spoon and your kitchen is…let’s say “lived in.”  What...just me?

It’s magic, I tell you.

Pure magic.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if a brownie and carrot cake got together and made a baby?

No? Just me?

Okay, okay. I know I’m weird. But hear me out.

I LOVE carrot cake, and this is the time of year when carrot cake is “in season.” Not that it makes any difference to me—you know I’ll make it whenever the craving hits. Seasonal baking is more of a suggestion than a rule in this house.

But—plot twist—my family is not exactly lining up for vegetables in their dessert. The audacity, honestly. So a big, glorious, three-layer carrot cake? Not happening.

But THEN… what if I could sneak all that cozy, spiced, cream cheese-frosted goodness into something that feels a little more… approachable? A little more “grab-and-go”? A little more brownie energy?

Friends. I did it.

These carrot cake bars are soft, warmly spiced, perfectly moist, and topped with a dreamy swoop of cream cheese frosting and a shower of toasted pecans. They’ve got all the flavor of classic carrot cake, but without the whole “assemble a towering cake while questioning your life choices” situation.

And because I wanted them to feel a little extra special (and not too brownie impostor-y), I sliced them into long, elegant bars.

My soul? Doing a full happy dance.

You should absolutely try them. They’re easier, cozier, and deliver all the payoff without the layer cake drama.

Why You’ll Love These

• All the cozy carrot cake vibes without the fuss
• One pan = less cleanup (we love a low-drama bake)
• Perfectly soft with just the right amount of spice
• Cream cheese frosting because obviously
• Fancy-looking bars with minimal effort

RECIPE: Carrot Cake Bars

Ingredients

For the Bars:

• 1 cup (200g) granulated sugar
• ½ cup (100g) brown sugar
• ¾ cup (180ml) vegetable oil
• 3 large eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 cups (250g) all-purpose flour
• 1 ½ tsp baking powder
• ½ tsp baking soda
• 1 ½ tsp cinnamon
• ½ tsp nutmeg
• ½ tsp salt
• 2 cups finely grated carrots
• ½ cup chopped pecans (optional, but highly encouraged)

For the Cream Cheese Frosting:

• 8 oz cream cheese, softened
• 4 tbsp butter, softened
• 2 cups powdered sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• Pinch of salt

For Topping:

• ½ cup toasted pecans, chopped

Instructions

1. Prep Like a Pro (or at least pretend to)

Preheat your oven to 350°F. Line a 9x13 pan with parchment paper because future-you deserves easy cleanup.

2. Mix the Magic

In a large bowl, whisk together the sugars, oil, eggs, and vanilla until smooth and glossy.

3. Dry Team Joins the Party

In another bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Add to the wet ingredients and stir until just combined.

4. Bring in the Carrots

Fold in the grated carrots (and chopped pecans if using). Try not to eat the batter. Or do. I won’t tell.

5. Bake

Pour into your prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake for 30–35 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Let cool completely.

(Yes, completely. I know. It’s hard.)

6. Frosting Time (aka the best part)

Beat the cream cheese and butter until smooth. Add powdered sugar, vanilla, and salt, and beat until fluffy and dreamy.

7. Assemble Your Masterpiece

Spread frosting over cooled bars and sprinkle generously with toasted pecans.

8. Slice & Admire

Cut into long bars for that bakery-style look and prepare to feel wildly accomplished.

Notes From My Kitchen

• Finely grated carrots are key—no chunky veggie surprises here
• These taste even better the next day (if they last that long)
• Store in the fridge, but let them sit out a bit before serving for peak softness
• If your family is suspicious of “vegetables in dessert,” just… don’t lead with that

Final Thoughts

These bars are proof that you don’t need a towering layer cake to get that classic carrot cake joy. Sometimes all you need is a pan, a little frosting, and a willingness to embrace slightly unhinged baking ideas.

And honestly? That’s where the magic lives.

If you make these, I hope your kitchen smells amazing, your frosting is extra swoopy, and your soul does a little happy dance too 💛

My friends… Miss Ivy has a hankering.

And you already know how this story goes.

When your kid lives in the land of safe foods thanks to ARFID, you don’t mess around when they branch out. You don’t say, “Hmm, maybe this weekend.” You don’t say, “Let me think about it.” Oh no. You say, “Hold please,” while aggressively tying your apron like you’re entering a baking competition no one asked you to be in.

Because when Ivy casually drops,
“You know mom, I really want those chocolate scones you made before…”

…it’s game on.

Let’s Talk About Scones (aka Fancy Biscuits in Disguise)

Scones have a reputation problem.

They walk around acting like they belong at High Tea, surrounded by lace napkins and people who somehow know how to hold teacups correctly. Pinkies up. Calm voices. Zero crumbs anywhere. Honestly, suspicious behavior.

Meanwhile, I’m over here in my kitchen, covered in flour, drinking reheated coffee for the third time, and calling it a win if I don’t drop something.

But here’s the truth no one tells you:

Scones are just sweet biscuits.

That’s it. That’s the secret.

They’re not fussy. They’re not complicated. They don’t require a culinary degree or a British accent. They just need you to not overwork the dough and maybe believe in yourself a tiny bit.

And if you mess them up? Congratulations—you’ve made chocolate rubble. Still delicious.

Why These Scones Are Worth It

• Rich, chocolatey goodness in every bite
• Tender and buttery (not dry hockey pucks—absolutely not on my watch)
• Finished with a drizzle of chocolate because we believe in excess around here
• Approved by a very important taste tester named Ivy

Also? They make your morning feel like you have your life together. Even if you absolutely do not.

Chocolate Scones with Chocolate Drizzle

Ingredients

For the scones:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 tbsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cubed
• 1/2 cup chocolate chips (plus extra if your heart says yes)
• 2/3 cup heavy cream
• 1 large egg
• 1 tsp vanilla extract

For the chocolate drizzle:

• 1/2 cup chocolate chips
• 2–3 tbsp heavy cream

Instructions

1. Preheat & prep
   Preheat your oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Mix the dry stuff
   In a large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, and salt.
3. Cut in the butter
   Add the cold, cubed butter and work it in using a pastry cutter or your fingers until it looks like coarse crumbs.
   (If your fingers get chocolatey and buttery… I mean… tough life.)
4. Add chocolate chips
   Stir them in like the generous, chocolate-loving human you are.
5. Mix the wet ingredients
   In a separate bowl, whisk together the cream, egg, and vanilla.
6. Bring it together
   Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and gently mix until just combined.
   Do not overmix. This is not bread. This is not therapy. Be gentle.
7. Shape the dough
   Turn it out onto a lightly floured surface, pat into a circle about 1-inch thick, and cut into 8 wedges.
8. Bake
   Place on your prepared baking sheet and bake for 15–18 minutes, until set.
9. Make the drizzle
   Melt chocolate chips with cream in the microwave in short bursts, stirring until smooth.
10. Drizzle like you mean it
    Once the scones have cooled slightly, drizzle that chocolate all over like you’re on a baking show and someone’s judging your life choices.

How to Eat These (No Rules, Only Joy)

• Fancy version: sit down, lift your pinky, take delicate bites
• Real life version: stand at the counter, dunk aggressively into coffee
• Mom version: take two bites while reheating your coffee again

All are valid. All are encouraged.

Final Thoughts from My Flour-Dusted Heart

There’s something really special about making the thing your kid asked for—especially when those asks don’t come around often.

So yeah, I will absolutely drop everything for a chocolate scone moment.

And if Ivy’s hankering inspires you to make your own batch? Do it. Don’t overthink it. Don’t wait for a special occasion.

Make the scones. Drink the coffee. Embrace the crumbs.

Your morning will be better for it. Promise