I’m back with another recipe that is comforting AF and one that I’m the only one in the house will eat. 😂

Listen. Sometimes it’s been a long week. The laundry is judging me. The group chat is popping off. The sourdough starter is side-eyeing me because I haven’t fed it. And I want something Mexican-ish (I’m not winning any authenticity awards with this one, lovelies — I use flour tortillas, so… we are simply doing our best) and with enough cheese to soothe my tired soul.

Enter: Chicken Enchiladas in Red Sauce.

Are they traditional? No.
Are they cozy? Extremely.
Do they involve a frankly irresponsible amount of melty cheese? Yes, absolutely.

My ARFID crew won’t touch it — which, if you’re in this season too, you know is not a complaint, just a fact of life. So instead of fighting it, I’ve decided this is  *meal prep*. It reheats beautifully. It’s even better the next day. It’s basically Future Me saying, “I got you, babe.”

And just because I can’t share it with Ivy and her brother doesn’t mean I can’t share it with you. So make this one for yourself, your family, your cat, whatever works. But make it — and then come back and tell me how it worked out.

Cozy Chicken Enchiladas in Red Sauce

Ingredients

• 2–3 cups cooked, shredded chicken
  (Rotisserie chicken is a gift from the heavens. We accept help.)

• 8 medium flour tortillas

• 2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese

• 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

• 1 small onion, finely diced

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 tablespoon olive oil

• 1 teaspoon chili powder

• 1 teaspoon cumin

• ½ teaspoon smoked paprika

• Salt and pepper to taste

• 2 cups red enchilada sauce (store-bought is completely fine — we are tired, remember?)

Optional but delightful:

• Sour cream

• Sliced jalapeños

• Chopped cilantro

• Avocado slices

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13 baking dish.

2. Sauté the filling.
   In a skillet over medium heat, warm the olive oil. Add the diced onion and cook until soft and slightly golden, about 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook 30 seconds more. Add shredded chicken, chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Stir until everything is warm and cozy together. Remove from heat.

3. Add cheese (obviously).
   Stir about 1 cup of the shredded cheese into the chicken mixture. Yes, inside and outside cheese. We are layering comfort.

4. Sauce the situation.
   Spread about ½ cup of red enchilada sauce in the bottom of your baking dish.

5. Roll them up.
   Spoon chicken mixture down the center of each flour tortilla, roll tightly, and place seam-side down in the dish.

6. Drown them lovingly.
   Pour remaining enchilada sauce over the top, making sure the edges are covered so they stay soft. Sprinkle the remaining cheese all over like you are emotionally processing something.

7. Bake.
   Bake uncovered for 20–25 minutes, until the cheese is melted and bubbly and your kitchen smells like you absolutely have your life together.

8. Rest (the enchiladas, not you).
   Let them sit for about 5–10 minutes before serving. This helps everything set up and makes cleaner slices.

Serving Ideas

Top with sour cream, jalapeños, cilantro, avocado — or nothing at all. They are perfectly wonderful in their cheesy red-sauced glory.

Storage + Reheating (aka The Silver Lining)

• Store in the fridge up to 4 days.

• Reheat in the microwave (hello, lunch) or in a 350°F oven until warmed through.

• They honestly might taste even better the next day, which feels like a small personal victory.

This one is for the tired moms, the solo eaters, the “fine, I’ll make my own dinner” queens, and anyone who just needs a pan of something warm and melty waiting for them at the end of the day.

Make it. Feed yourself well. That counts.

And tell me — are you team flour tortilla chaos like me, or are you a corn tortilla purist? I can take it. Probably.

Oh friends.

Winter has not exactly been winter-ing. We’ve had “light jacket and optimism” weather instead of “snow boots and existential reflection” weather. But listen — if the sky won’t commit to the season, I will. And for me, winter baking means one thing:

Oranges.

Now friends, my love of oranges is STRONG. Capital letters strong. I always got an orange in my stocking at Christmas (which, as a child, felt both festive and mildly confusing). I love orange marmalade. Orange juice. Orange Starburst candies. If it’s orange-flavored, I am interested. If it’s actually an orange? I am deeply invested.

So obviously, I had to make an Orange Upside Down Cake.

And let me tell you — she is stunning. Glossy, jewel-toned citrus slices on top, caramelized edges, tender buttery crumb underneath. She looks like something you’d see behind glass at a fancy bakery where everything costs $14 and you pretend you’re “just browsing.”

But here’s the best part: it’s a lot easier than it looks. Like… suspiciously easy. Which is my favorite kind of baking. Maximum drama. Minimum emotional damage.

It’s citrus season, and you absolutely deserve a cake that tastes like sunshine showed up in January and decided to stay.

Orange Upside Down Cake

Ingredients

For the topping:

• ¼ cup unsalted butter

• ½ cup brown sugar

• 2–3 medium oranges, thinly sliced (navel, Cara Cara, or blood oranges all work beautifully)

For the cake:

• ½ cup unsalted butter, softened

• ¾ cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs

• 1 tablespoon orange zest

• ½ cup fresh orange juice

• ½ cup sour cream or plain Greek yogurt

• 1 cup all-purpose flour

• ½ cup fine yellow cornmeal

• 1 ½ teaspoons baking powder

• ½ teaspoon salt

• ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9-inch round cake pan and line the bottom with parchment paper. (Yes, we are being responsible.)

2. Prepare the topping:
   Melt ¼ cup butter and pour it into the bottom of the prepared pan. Sprinkle brown sugar evenly over the butter. Arrange the orange slices in a single layer on top of the sugar mixture. Overlapping slightly is not only allowed — it’s artistic.

3. Make the batter:
   In a large bowl, cream together the softened butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition.

   Stir in orange zest, orange juice, sour cream, and vanilla.

4. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and salt.

5. Gradually add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, mixing just until combined. Don’t overmix — we want tender with a gentle crumb, not dense and dramatic.

6. Carefully spread the batter over the orange slices and smooth the top.

7. Bake for 40–50 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean and the top is golden.

8. Let cool in the pan for 10–15 minutes. Run a knife around the edges. Place a serving plate over the pan and confidently flip. Lift the pan gently and admire the glossy, caramelized orange crown.

Notes

• Use fine cornmeal for the best texture. We want subtle warmth and structure, not polenta vibes.

• Blood oranges make this cake look wildly dramatic and winter-moody.

• A dollop of whipped cream makes it brunch-worthy. A scoop of vanilla ice cream makes it dessert-party-worthy.

A Few Cozy Tips

• If your oranges have seeds, remove them before arranging. No one wants a surprise crunch.

• Blood oranges make this cake look wildly dramatic and slightly moody (very winter-vibe approved).

• Serve slightly warm with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream if you’re feeling extra. And honestly… you should feel extra.

This cake is buttery and bright, sweet with just enough citrus tang to make you go back for “just one more sliver.” It feels like the kind of thing you’d serve at a winter brunch with coffee in mismatched mugs and everyone lingering at the table longer than planned.

Winter may not be cooperating. But we are. We are baking oranges and pretending there’s a cozy chill in the air.

Make it. Flip it. Admire it. Eat it.

Ok, my friends, I technically grew up a Midwestern girl. Technically. But apparently Missouri calls this a tater tot casserole and not a hot dish, so I guess I’m not Midwestern enough. I don’t make the rules, I just quietly question my identity while standing in the freezer aisle holding a bag of tots.

I’ve been thinking about making a hot dish ever since the first time I saw Molly Yeh make one on Food Network. It looked cozy. It looked forgiving. It looked like something you eat out of a bowl on the couch while wearing sweatpants you absolutely did not put on to “just run errands.”

Naturally, I brought the idea to my sweet little ARFID family and they were NOT on board. Like… not even a little. Hard pass. Full veto. Emotional damage.

So this idea sat on the back burner. For a while. A long while. Until one day, this girl’s need for comfort food at any cost simply could not take it anymore. And thus: Taco Hot Dish was born.

This one will feed an army. But in this case, it’s just going to feed me. (Leftovers are a love language, ok?) And since we’ve got black beans in this one and salsa—which I puree because I don’t like chunky stuff—I’m going to say there are enough veggies here to balance all the tater tots and cheese.

Do I lie to myself occasionally?
Yes.
Yes I do.

But listen. This is warm. This is cheesy. This is deeply comforting. This is the kind of meal that doesn’t ask questions or expect growth—it just says, “Sit down. I’ve got you.”

Taco Hot Dish

Serves: An army… or one tired adult for several glorious days
Vibe: Cozy, forgiving, unapologetically cheesy

Ingredients

• 1 lb ground beef (or ground turkey if that’s your thing)

• 1 small onion, finely diced (or onion powder if we’re being honest)

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 packet taco seasoning

• 1 cup water

• 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed

• 1 cup salsa, pureed smooth (solidarity for the anti-chunk crowd)

• 1 cup frozen corn (optional, but adds color and a whisper of nutrition)

• 2 cups shredded cheddar or Mexican-blend cheese, divided

• 1 bag (32 oz) frozen tater tots

• Salt & pepper, to taste

Optional toppings (for serving):

• Sour cream

• A sprinkling of cillantro

• Sliced Jalapeño if you're looking for some spice

•  Hot sauce (because we’re adults and we deserve joy)

Instructions

1. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Lightly grease a 9x13 baking dish and feel productive already.

2. Brown the meat.
   In a large skillet over medium heat, cook the ground beef with the diced onion until browned and cooked through. Drain excess grease if needed (or don’t—no judgment).

3. Season generously.
   Add garlic and taco seasoning to the skillet, stir, then pour in the water. Let it simmer for a few minutes until thickened and saucy.

4. Add the “veggies.”
   Stir in the black beans, pureed salsa, and corn if using. Taste and season with salt and pepper. At this point, it should smell like you absolutely made the right decision.

5. Assemble the hot dish.
   Spread the meat mixture evenly in the prepared baking dish. Sprinkle with 1 cup of cheese. Arrange the tater tots on top in neat little rows if you’re feeling calm—or just dump them on if you’re not.

6. Bake.
   Place in the oven and bake uncovered for 30–35 minutes, until the tots are golden and crispy.

7. Cheese it up.
   Sprinkle the remaining 1 cup of cheese over the top and return to the oven for another 5–10 minutes, until melted and bubbly.

8. Rest (the dish, not you).
   Let it sit for about 5 minutes before serving. This is important for both structural integrity and personal safety.

Final Thoughts from the Couch

This Taco Hot Dish is everything I wanted it to be: warm, filling, familiar, and absolutely unconcerned with being trendy. It’s the kind of food that understands you had a day. Or a week. Or a season.

Will my family eat it?

Probably not.

Will I eat it?
Repeatedly. With joy. Out of a bowl. Possibly standing at the counter at midnight.

And that, my friends, is what comfort food is all about. 

February is here, which means we are collectively pretending winter is almost over while knowing deep in our Colorado bones that we are absolutely being lied to. Sure, Punxsutawney Phil did his little groundhog thing, but Colorado winters are sneaky.

You’ll be out there casually saying things like, “Wow, this winter hasn’t been too bad,” or “Yikes, the snowpack though…” and then BAM—winter remembers she forgot about us and shows up unannounced, boots on, no text first.

So yes, even though the sun is shining and there’s not a flake of snow on the ground at the moment, I am firmly staying in my cozy era. Warm-your-bones food only. Enter: Mile High Biscuits.

These biscuits are big. Like Colorado big. They’re tender, buttery, and fluffy in a way that feels mildly impressive even though, let’s be honest, biscuits are mostly just flour and vibes. Made right, they puff up gloriously and make you feel like you’ve absolutely got your life together—even if you’re eating one standing at the counter in yesterday’s sweatpants.

To make sure I don’t waste even a speck of dough (because waste stresses me out more than it should), I cut these into squares. No re-rolling scraps. No biscuit dough patchwork situation. Just clean cuts and straight sides. That said, if biscuit cutters are your thing, go for it! Just promise me one thing: don’t twist. Twisting seals those edges and these babies won’t rise to their full, dramatic potential. And honestly? They deserve better.

Have them for breakfast with butter melting into every nook. Serve them alongside a big old bowl of soup when winter finally shows up. Drizzle them with honey just because it’s time for carbs. However you eat them, just… make them. Winter doesn’t stand a chance.

High Altitude Mile High Biscuits (Makes 9 large biscuits)

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour

• 1 tablespoon baking powder

• 1 teaspoon sugar

• ¾ teaspoon kosher salt

• ½ cup cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

• ¾ cup cold milk or buttermilk (plus a splash more if needed)

Optional (but cozy):

• Melted butter for brushing tops

• Flaky salt for finishing

Instructions

1. Preheat & Prepare
   Preheat your oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease it. High altitude biscuits like a hot oven—think dramatic entrance.

2. Mix the Dry Ingredients
   In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt. This is not the time to rush—give it a good whisk so everything is evenly distributed.

3. Cut in the Butter
   Add the cold butter cubes to the flour mixture. Using a pastry cutter, fork, or your fingertips, work the butter in until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs with some pea-sized pieces of butter still hanging out. Those little butter pockets? That’s where the magic lives.

4. Add the Milk
   Pour in the cold milk or buttermilk and gently stir just until the dough comes together. If it looks a little dry, add a splash more milk. The dough should be soft and slightly shaggy—not wet, not crumbly, and definitely not overmixed.

5. Shape the Dough
   Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and gently pat it into a rectangle about 1-inch thick. No rolling pin required. We’re being gentle here.

6. Cut the Biscuits
   Cut the dough into 9 equal squares. Easy, efficient, and zero waste—my favorite combo. If you’re using a biscuit cutter, press straight down without twisting.

7. Bake
   Place the biscuits on the prepared baking sheet with sides just barely touching. This helps them climb upward instead of spreading out. Bake for 12–15 minutes, or until tall, golden, and smelling like you’ve made excellent life choices.

8. Finish & Serve
   Brush the tops with melted butter if you’re feeling extra (you should be). Sprinkle with flaky salt if desired. Serve warm, always warm.

A Few Cozy Notes

• High altitude friendly: Extra baking powder and minimal handling help these rise beautifully above 5,000 feet.

• Cold ingredients matter: Cold butter + hot oven = flaky layers. Science, but make it cozy.

• Square biscuits = sanity: No scraps, no stress, no dough rerolls turning tough.

If winter is going to sneak up on us anyway, we might as well be ready—with biscuits. Big, buttery, mile-high biscuits. The kind that make soup better, mornings softer, and February feel just a little less long.

Go make them. Winter doesn’t stand a chance. 

Alright friends, grab a cozy blanket and a stretchy pair of pants, because we need to talk snacks.

The big game is coming, my beautiful friends, and even though the Broncos didn’t make it all the way (the boys in the house are still upset), snacks must be made. This is not optional. This is not negotiable. And somehow—mysteriously, predictably—that responsibility falls to yours truly. And listen, if I’m going to make them, I’m going to share them with you, because I refuse to suffer alone in the kitchen while everyone else just… waits hungrily.

Now. In case you’re wondering what’s been happening in my brain lately (a dangerous place, I know), I’ve still been deep into my cozy mystery era. Like, aggressively so. I just finished book one in a deep dish pizza mystery series—which is both delightful and very on-brand for me. And that got me thinking (scary, I know): what if I took everything I love about a traditional Chicago deep dish pizza crust… and rolled it up cinnamon-roll style… with all of our favorite pizza toppings inside?

You guys.

They’re SO good.

These Meatlovers Pizza Rolls are everything you want in a game day snack. Warm, cheesy, indulgent, a little ridiculous, and absolutely not pretending to be healthy. They’re crisp on the outside, soft and buttery on the inside, and packed with sausage, pepperoni, bacon, and melty mozzarella. Basically, they’re the kind of food that makes people hover near the oven and “just check on them” every two minutes.

Make them for football.
Make them because it’s your turn to host pizza night.
Make them because it’s Tuesday and you deserve joy.

You will NOT regret it.

Meatlovers Pizza Rolls

Why These Work

This dough is inspired by a Chicago-style deep dish crust—slightly richer, a little buttery, sturdy enough to hold all the fillings, but still soft and tender when baked. Rolling it up traps all that meaty, cheesy goodness into neat little spirals of happiness. It’s science. Probably.

Ingredients

Dough

• 1 cup warm water (about 110°F)

• 2 ¼ teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)

• 1 tablespoon sugar

• 2 tablespoons melted butter (plus more for greasing)

• 2 tablespoons olive oil

• 2 ½ to 3 cups all-purpose flour

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 2 tablespoons cornmeal (for that deep dish vibe)

Filling

• 1 cup pizza sauce (plus extra for dipping)

• 1 ½ cups shredded mozzarella cheese

• ½ cup cooked Italian sausage, crumbled

• ½ cup pepperoni slices, chopped

• ½ cup cooked bacon, chopped

• ½ teaspoon Italian seasoning

• Optional but encouraged: a pinch of red pepper flakes

Topping

• 2 tablespoons melted butter

• ¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese

Instructions

1. Make the Dough
   In a large bowl, combine the warm water, yeast, and sugar. Let it sit for 5–10 minutes until it’s foamy and smells like hope. Stir in the melted butter and olive oil. Add 2 ½ cups flour, salt, and cornmeal. Mix until a soft dough forms, adding more flour as needed. Knead for about 5 minutes until smooth and elastic. Place in a greased bowl, cover, and let rise for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.

2. Prep the Filling
   While the dough rises, cook your sausage and bacon if they’re not already done. Chop the pepperoni. Shred the cheese. Taste-test everything. This step is crucial and definitely not just snacking.

3. Roll It Out
   Once risen, punch down the dough (very therapeutic). Roll it out on a lightly floured surface into a rectangle, about 12×16 inches.

4. Fill It Up
   Spread the pizza sauce evenly over the dough, leaving about a ½-inch border. Sprinkle on the mozzarella, then evenly distribute the sausage, pepperoni, bacon, Italian seasoning, and red pepper flakes if using.

5. Roll & Slice
   Starting from the long edge, roll the dough up tightly like a cinnamon roll log. Slice into 12 equal pieces. (Or if you're like me, make them even bigger and put 8 of those babies in a cast iron skillet)

6. Bake
   Place the rolls cut-side up in a greased 9×13 pan. (See above for big rolls)  Brush the tops with melted butter and sprinkle with Parmesan. Bake at 375°F for 25–30 minutes, until golden brown and bubbly.

7. Serve
   Let cool slightly (or don’t—live dangerously). Serve warm with extra pizza sauce for dipping.

Final Thoughts from the Snack Table

These Meatlovers Pizza Rolls disappear fast. Like, “I blinked and they’re gone” fast. So if you’re feeding a crowd—or teenage boys still mourning a football season—you might want to double the recipe.

They’re cozy. They’re indulgent. They’re exactly the kind of snack that brings people together on the couch, plates balanced on knees, yelling at the TV and asking, “Are there more of those?”

Yes. Yes, there are. And now you know how to make them.

Well my friends, January is over.

Which means we’ve all given up on resolutions, right?

If you’re still walking the straight and narrow ketogenic path, I salute you. Truly. But I also feel it is my duty as a baked-goods enabler to tell you that this cake might be the thing that knocks you clean off it. Gently. Lovingly. With cocoa and cream cheese.

Because here’s the thing: this red velvet marble loaf doesn’t care what time it is.
Can it be dessert for your Valentine? Yes.
Can it be breakfast? Also yes.
Can it be sliced thinly, eaten standing at the counter, and followed by the words “I’ll just have a bite”? Absolutely.

And with a few very important high altitude tweaks (less leavening, a little more flour—because the mountains demand respect), you are going to make everyone in your house fall in love with you. Even the cat.

(Please don’t feed it to her.)

I love a loaf cake because it feels low-pressure. No layers. No leveling. No “why is my cake leaning like it had a long night?” energy. Just one cozy pan, a dramatic red velvet swirl moment, and a thick slather of cream cheese frosting that forgives all sins—dietary and otherwise.

This cake is tender but sturdy, lightly chocolatey but not aggressive, and festive in a “February is doing her best” sort of way. It’s Valentine’s Day-adjacent without being pink and precious. It’s the cake you make when you want to show love but also want leftovers.

So let’s bake.

High Altitude Red Velvet Marble Loaf

with Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients

For the loaf:

• ½ cup unsalted butter, softened

• ¾ cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs, room temperature

• ½ cup sour cream (full fat, please)

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

Dry ingredients:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour (high altitude adjustment)

• 1 Tbsp cornstarch

• 1 tsp cocoa powder

• ¾ tsp baking powder (reduced for altitude)

• ½ tsp baking soda

• ½ tsp salt

Red velvet swirl:

• 1 Tbsp cocoa powder

• 1 Tbsp milk

• 1–2 tsp red food coloring (gel preferred)

Instructions

1. Prep your pan & oven
   Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and line a 9x5 loaf pan with parchment, leaving an overhang for dramatic cake removal later.

2. Cream butter & sugar
   In a large bowl, beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy—about 2–3 minutes. This is not the time to rush. January already rushed us enough.

3. Add eggs & dairy
   Beat in eggs one at a time, scraping the bowl as needed. Mix in sour cream and vanilla until smooth.

4. Mix dry ingredients
   In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, cornstarch, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

5. Combine
   Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients and mix just until combined. Do not overmix. We want tender loaf, not emotional support bread.

6. Create the marble magic
   Scoop about ⅓ of the batter into a small bowl. Stir in the cocoa powder, milk, and red food coloring until smooth and gloriously red.

7. Layer & swirl
   Alternate spoonfuls of vanilla and red velvet batter into the loaf pan. Use a knife to gently swirl—think “romantic ribbon,” not “aggressive stirring.”

8. Bake
   Bake for 55–65 minutes, tenting loosely with foil after 45 minutes if the top browns too quickly. A toothpick should come out with a few moist crumbs.

9. Cool
   Let cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then remove to a rack to cool completely before frosting. (This is the hardest part. I believe in you.)

Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients

• 4 oz cream cheese, softened

• 2 Tbsp unsalted butter, softened

• 1 cup powdered sugar

• ½ tsp vanilla extract

• Pinch of salt

Instructions

Beat everything together until smooth, fluffy, and emotionally supportive. Spread generously over cooled loaf.

Final Thoughts From the Counter

This is the kind of cake that makes January feel forgiven and February feel hopeful. It’s cozy, a little indulgent, and completely unconcerned with your past intentions to “eat less sugar.”

Serve it to your Valentine. Serve it to yourself. Serve it with coffee in the quiet morning light while everyone else is asleep. And when your cat stares at you like she, too, would like a slice—tell her no, but thank her for the admiration.

Here’s to giving up on resolutions and saying yes to cake.