Ok friends, don’t be alarmed. I am not abandoning your sweet tooth with this post. I would never. Cookies and cozy carbs remain very much my personality.

This salad happened for a purely aesthetic reason. That’s it. It’s soooo pretty. Like holiday-party-but-make-it-effortless pretty. Even Ivy's dad walked by my little photo shoot and said, "Wow!  That's really pretty!" The fact that it’s healthy? Just a fun little side effect.

Now. Let’s talk about my complicated relationship with salads.

I am… weird about them. I almost always make them myself because I’m extremely picky, and I have never—never—been a vinaigrette girl. Why? Mustard. I do not like mustard.
At.
ALL.

So imagine my delight when the internet casually mentioned that you can use honey as an emulsifier instead. Yeah baby! (Thanks, internet. We’re cool again.)

Enter this salad: tender power greens, creamy goat cheese, juicy pomegranate arils, crunchy candied walnuts, and a bright apple cider vinaigrette that contains zero mustard and all the good vibes.

Give this one a try, friends. Whether you’re looking for healthy or pretty, this one absolutely fits the bill.

The Salad (a very loose guide)

This is one of those “follow your heart” situations, but here’s what I use:

• Mixed power greens (spinach, arugula, chard—whatever makes you feel virtuous)

• Crumbled goat cheese (be generous, this is not a punishment salad)

• Pomegranate arils (these bad boys can be expensive but if you're down for red fingers, buy the fruit and pick them out yourself.  It's totally cool to snack on them as you go!)

• Candied walnuts (store-bought or homemade if you’re feeling fancy)

• A pinch of flaky salt and fresh cracked pepper

Pile everything into a big bowl, admire how gorgeous it is, then proceed to the most important part…

Homemade Apple Cider Vinaigrette (No Mustard, Promise)

Ingredients

• ⅓ cup olive oil

• 3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

• 1½ tablespoons honey (this is the magic ✨)

• 1 small clove garlic, finely minced or grated

• ¼ teaspoon salt (more to taste)

• Fresh cracked black pepper

Instructions

1. Add all ingredients to a small jar or bowl.

2. Whisk like you mean it—or pop a lid on the jar and shake it dramatically.

3. Taste and adjust. More honey if you like it sweeter, more vinegar if you want a little zing.

4. Drizzle over salad just before serving.

This vinaigrette is bright, lightly sweet, and actually something I want to eat—which feels like personal growth. It coats the greens without overpowering them and plays very nicely with the goat cheese and pomegranate situation.

So there you have it. A salad I made because it was pretty, loved because it was delicious, and will absolutely make again—even when no one is watching.

Pretty food counts too. 💚

It seems like just a couple of weeks ago I couldn’t turn around without running into a cookie.

I made them.
Neighbors made them.
EVERYBODY made them.

Every surface was basically a cookie exchange waiting to happen.

And now? We’re one full week into the new year and suddenly everyone is in resolution mode, which has apparently led to a very real and very tragic cookie shortage. Salads everywhere. Joy? Questionable.

We can’t have that.

So I decided oatmeal cookies were the right answer—because they’ve got oatmeal, and oatmeal is resolution adjacent, right? Like, it’s basically breakfast if you squint. A wellness food. Practically a lifestyle choice.

But don’t worry, these are not sad oatmeal cookies.

These beauties are double chocolate, loaded with white chocolate chips, big dramatic chunks of dark chocolate (chopped by us, like the heroes we are), and cozy warming spices that will absolutely convert even the most stubborn oatmeal-cookie skeptics. They’re soft in the middle, a little chewy, deeply chocolatey, and exactly what January needs.

A quick word to the wise: these cookies can spread. Not emotionally—physically. So chill the dough and give them some personal space on the baking sheet. And if they come out looking a little… abstract? You’ve got options:

• Embrace that wabi-sabi vibe. Rustic! Intentional!

• Or grab an oversized round biscuit cutter and gently nudge them into place right when they come out of the oven. Cookie Botox. Zero shame.

Let’s bake.

High Altitude Double Chocolate Spiced Oatmeal Cookies

Ingredients

• 1 cup unsalted butter, softened

• 1 cup brown sugar, packed

• ½ cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs, room temperature

• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

• 1¾ cups all-purpose flour

• ½ cup cocoa powder

• 1 teaspoon baking soda

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 1 teaspoon cinnamon

• ½ teaspoon ground ginger

• ¼ teaspoon nutmeg

• 2½ cups old-fashioned rolled oats

• 1 cup white chocolate chips

• 4 oz dark chocolate bar, chopped into big chunks

Instructions

1. Cream the butter and sugars together until light and fluffy—really let them get cozy.

2. Add eggs one at a time, mixing well after each, then stir in the vanilla.

3. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, salt, and spices.

4. Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, mixing just until combined.

5. Fold in the oats, white chocolate chips, and chopped dark chocolate chunks.

6. Chill the dough for at least 30–60 minutes. This is non-negotiable unless you enjoy cookie pancakes.

7. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line baking sheets with parchment.

8. Scoop dough (about 2 tablespoons each) and space cookies generously apart.

9. Bake for 9–11 minutes, until edges are set but centers still look slightly underbaked.

10. If needed, immediately swirl an oversized round biscuit cutter around each cookie to tidy them up.

11. Let cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a rack.

High Altitude Notes

• Extra chill time helps control spreading

• Slightly underbake for soft centers (they’ll set as they cool)

• Don’t overcrowd the pan—these cookies like boundaries

And there you have it. Resolution-friendly-ish cookies that feel indulgent, cozy, and deeply necessary. Because January is long, the world is weird, and sometimes the most responsible thing you can do is make cookies with oatmeal and chocolate.

Happy New Year, friends! 
2026 is here and I’m not about to pretend that 2025 wasn’t… a lot. Like, emotionally exhausting, mildly feral, germ-infested, “why is everyone coughing?” levels of a lot.

So instead of rolling in with a super green, resolution-worthy, this-will-change-your-life kind of recipe, I’m bringing you comfort. Warm, creamy, bacon-y, tater-tot-filled comfort. Because January is hard enough without pretending we want a quinoa bowl.

I first saw this recipe floating around on the Lodge Cast Iron Instagram and I was instantly obsessed. You know how much I love soup. And a soup that uses tater tots—tiny frozen potatoes that require zero peeling and absolutely no personal growth? I was all in.

The recipe itself is inspired by something from the Dinner Doctor cookbook (which has officially been added to my very serious ongoing mission of “find this at a thrift store or die trying”). And while the Lodge version is lovely, here’s what actually worked for me.

Maybe my tater tots were more… thirsty? But two cups of broth was absolutely not cutting it. I needed four. Also, and I say this with my whole chest: bacon is a magical ingredient. The recipe called for four slices. FOUR. I doubled it to eight, because peace was never an option. Half goes on top, half goes back into the soup where it belongs.

The result? Cozy, rich, corny (literally), fast, and wildly comforting. This is the kind of soup you make when you’re tired, it’s cold, and you want dinner to love you back.

Here’s how it comes together.

Tater Tot Corn Chowder

Ingredients

• 8 strips bacon, chopped

• 1 small onion, diced

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 4 cups chicken broth (trust me)

• 1 bag frozen tater tots

• 2 cups frozen corn

• 2 cup whole milk

• 1 teaspoon salt (more to taste)

• ½ teaspoon black pepper

• Optional toppings: reserved bacon, shredded cheddar, green onions, sour cream

Instructions

1. Cook the bacon
   In a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot, cook the bacon over medium heat until crispy. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside. Try not to snack on all of it—reserve about half for topping.

2. Build the base
   Leave about 1–2 tablespoons of bacon grease in the pot. Add the diced onion and cook until soft and cozy, about 4–5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook for 30 seconds, just until fragrant.

3. Put it all together
   Add the chicken broth, frozen tater tots, and frozen corn. Stir in the milk, salt, and pepper. Add half of the cooked bacon back into the soup because we believe in joy.

4. Soup magic                                                                                                                                   Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 10–15 minutes, until the tater tots are very soft and starting to break down.

5. Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with reserved bacon and any other toppings your heart desires.

This soup is fast, forgiving, and deeply comforting—the culinary equivalent of putting on fuzzy socks and pretending the news doesn’t exist.

I hope you try it. And I hope 2026 is an easier, cozier, and much less germ-infested year for all of us. 

My friends, the year is winding down. And I know… I know. You haven’t seen me in a minute.

That’s because our house has been recovering from what I can only describe as The Super Flu™, which was super not fun and deserves zero stars on Yelp. Somehow, through a fog of tissues, cough drops, and questionable levels of caffeine, I managed to pull off Christmas. And now? I am emotionally and physically ready to hibernate until at least March.

But I don’t want to abandon you. I could never just ghost you with nothing but crumbs and unanswered questions.

So I’m here—wrapped in a sweater, moving slowly, but still standing—with an easy, cozy, holiday-morning-approved recipe for when full-on cinnamon rolls feel like climbing Everest. Or for a cold weekend morning… which we haven’t really had lately because Mother Nature is absolutely in a MOOD and Colorado has been acting like it’s May. Everything is dry, everything is brown, and the fire danger is off the charts. Love that for us. 🙃

This cinnamon roll coffee cake gives you all the cinnamon-sugar joy with about half the effort and zero yeast-related emotional breakdowns. It’s soft, buttery, swirly, and perfect for slow mornings, holiday leftovers, or “I survived 2025 and deserve cake for breakfast” days.

Let’s bake something comforting and head into the new year with good vibes, cinnamon sugar, and hope for good things to come.

---

High Altitude Cinnamon Roll Coffee Cake

Ingredients

Coffee Cake

• 2 cups all-purpose flour

• ¾ cup granulated sugar

• 2 teaspoons baking powder

• ½ teaspoon salt

• ½ teaspoon baking soda

• ¾ cup sour cream (room temp if you’re fancy, straight from the fridge if you’re me)

• ½ cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled

• 2 large eggs

• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Cinnamon Swirl

• ½ cup brown sugar, packed

• 1½ tablespoons cinnamon

• 2 tablespoons melted butter

Optional Glaze (Highly Encouraged)

• ¾ cup powdered sugar

• 1–2 tablespoons milk or cream

• ½ teaspoon vanilla

---

Instructions

1. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease an 8x8-inch baking pan and tell yourself you’ll wash it immediately after baking (you won’t, but the optimism matters).

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

3. In another bowl, mix the sour cream, melted butter, eggs, and vanilla until smooth and creamy.

4. Stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients just until combined. Do not overmix—we want tender coffee cake, not emotional resilience training.

5. In a small bowl, mix together the brown sugar, cinnamon, and melted butter for the swirl.

6. Spread half of the batter into the prepared pan. Sprinkle half of the cinnamon mixture evenly over the batter.

7. Spoon the remaining batter on top (don’t worry about perfection—this is a cozy bake, not a Pinterest competition). Sprinkle the rest of the cinnamon sugar over the top.

8. Use a knife to gently swirl everything together. You’re aiming for “effortlessly rustic,” not “chaotic gremlin energy.”

9. Bake for 35–40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs.

10. Let cool slightly. If glazing, whisk together glaze ingredients and drizzle generously over the top while still warm.

---

High Altitude Notes (Because We’re Up Here)

• This recipe is already adjusted for high altitude (5,000+ feet)

• Slightly reduced sugar keeps it from collapsing

• Extra structure from sour cream = tender but stable crumb

• If your oven runs hot (looking at you, Colorado kitchens), start checking at 33 minutes

---

Final Thoughts from Someone Who Is Very Tired But Very Hopeful

This is the kind of bake you make when you want your house to smell like comfort and optimism. When you’re not trying to impress anyone—just feed the people you love (including yourself) something warm and sweet.

Enjoy this one, friends. Take care of yourselves. Rest when you need to. Eat cake for breakfast if it helps. And let’s head into the new year with cinnamon sugar on our plates and hope in our pockets. 💫

You’ve got this. And if not… there’s coffee cake.

Yes, kitchen fails. The thing that happens to everyone, and I mean EVERYONE! Even those of us who write food blogs and pretend we have our lives together because we photograph cookies on cute linen napkins. Spoiler: we do not.

So picture this. I had this entire plan—this vision—to bring you the most stunning, silky, swoon-worthy pumpkin cheesecake made in the Instant Pot. I was basically already writing the post in my head like, “Wow, Christine, you’ve peaked. Your ancestors are proud.”

But then… life.

Ivy and I have both been sick this week, and let me tell you—nothing tanks your culinary confidence like trying to bake while sleep deprived and oxygen-deprived. My brain was functioning at the level of an exhausted sloth. So what did I do? I overmixed the cheesecake batter. Like… a lot.

Friends.
It became the ugliest (yet still surprisingly delicious) cheesecake you have EVER seen. I wanted to cry. I wanted to slink away into a corner and suck my thumb. I considered switching careers and becoming a professional cloud watcher or something.

But then—
I pulled up my sweatpants (which had long since surrendered to the chaos), looked myself in the mirror, and said:

“Girl. You need a win.
Bake some cookies.”

Earlier in the day, I’d bought some clearance Ghirardelli caramel squares. (Totally for baking, of course. Absolutely not because I wanted to inhale them while hiding behind my pantry door for some caramel-based emotional support. No. Never.)

So I chopped them up.
Stuffed them inside a super simple chocolate cookie dough.
Sprinkled a little flaky salt on top.
And BOOM.

Back to being the queen of my kitchen.

Or at least, a benevolent duke. Either way, we’re counting it as a win.

And even if you don’t feel like royalty today?
Don’t stress. You’ve got this.
These cookies will lift you up like pumpkin-spice-scented angels and carry you to glory.

Salted Caramel Stuffed Chocolate Cookies

Makes 18–20 cookies
Soft, gooey, chocolatey, caramel-filled perfection.

Ingredients

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

• 1 cup granulated sugar

• 1 cup brown sugar, packed

• 2 large eggs

• 2 tsp vanilla extract

• 2 ½ cups all-purpose flour

• ½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

• 1 tsp baking soda

• ½ tsp baking powder

• 1 tsp kosher salt

• 1/2 cup chocolate chips (more chocolate is always better)

• 18–20 Ghirardelli caramel squares, roughly chopped

• Flaky sea salt for topping

Instructions

1. Preheat & prep

Preheat your oven to 350°F and line two baking sheets with parchment.
Prepare your soul for greatness.

2. Cream it

In a mixing bowl, beat the softened butter with both sugars until fluffy—
like “wow, that actually looks professional” fluffy.

Add the eggs and vanilla, and mix until combined.
Try not to think about failed cheesecakes. Move forward.

3. Dry ingredients incoming

In another bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.

Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, mixing just until combined.
Resist the urge to overmix like you did with the cheesecake. We are healing.  Now grab a spatula and fold in those chocolate chips.

4. Stuff ‘em

Scoop about 2 tablespoons of dough into your hand, flatten slightly, and place a spoonful of chopped caramel square in the center. Seal that dough around it like you’re tucking in a tiny, delicious, caramel baby.

Place on the baking sheet, spacing about 2 inches apart.

5. Bake

Bake for 10–12 minutes until the cookies are set on the edges but still soft in the middle.
They’ll look slightly underbaked. This is correct. Trust the process.

6. Salt + cool

Immediately sprinkle flaky sea salt on top—this is the crown.
Let them cool on the sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack.

7. Eat while warm

The caramel will be gooey and magical.
You’ll feel emotionally restored. Possibly powerful.

Final Thoughts

If your cheesecake flops, your cookies burn, or your week goes sideways—
you can still pull up those sweatpants, dust yourself off, and bake something that brings you a little joy.

These salted caramel stuffed chocolate cookies?
They’re joy.

Now go get your win, friend.

You deserve it.

BRRRR.
I mean it. BRRRR.
It is getting crazy cold outside — the kind of cold where you open the door, feel personally attacked, and immediately wonder why you ever decided to be a functioning adult who goes places.

Back when I was a kid (you know, a gazillion years ago), I used to get so excited when my mom made potato soup on a cold day. There’s just something so comforting about a bowl of creamy potatoes when your eyelashes are freezing together and you’re questioning your life choices.

And listen, I still love a good potato soup. I would fight a snowdrift for one.
BUT when I discovered that you can make a soup that has potatoes, beer, and cheese?
Ok, that’s my love language.

This is the soup that makes you feel like a true Midwesterner — even if you’ve never stepped foot in a cornfield or said “ope” when bumping into someone. Midwesterners know how to cope with cold, let me tell you. We see a blizzard and say, “Guess I’ll make soup.” It’s basically cultural heritage at this point.

So do yourself a favor:

Make this soup.
Dunk those sourdough Bavarian pretzels we made earlier (yes, you should have some leftover — and if you don’t, no judgment, I get it).
Then tell the weather it’s not the boss of you.

And after you climb out of your carb-induced coma, come back and tell me how it goes!

Midwest Beer Cheese Soup Recipe

Ingredients

• 4 slices thick-cut bacon, chopped

• 1 medium onion, diced

• 2 carrots, diced

• 2 celery stalks, diced

• 3 cloves garlic, minced

• 3 tablespoons butter

• ¼ cup flour

• 2 cups chicken or veggie broth

• 1 cup beer (lager or pilsner works great)

• 2 cups whole milk

• 1 cup heavy cream

• 2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese

• 1 cup shredded Colby Jack or pepper jack

• 2–3 medium potatoes, peeled and diced

• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

• ½ teaspoon smoked paprika

• ½ teaspoon dry mustard (optional but very “Wisconsin grandma”)

• Salt and pepper to taste

• Chives, scallions, or extra cheese for topping

Instructions

1. Cook the bacon
   In a big ol’ Dutch oven (bonus points if it’s the one you “borrowed” from your mom 10 years ago), cook the chopped bacon until crispy. Remove and set aside, but leave the magical bacon fat.

2. Sauté your veg
   Add onion, carrots, and celery to the pot. Cook until softened and smelling like cozy soup season. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more.

3. Butter + flour = roux magic
   Add the butter and let it melt into the veggies. Sprinkle the flour over everything and stir until it looks like a weird vegetable paste. This is what thickens the soup — trust the process.

4. Add the broth and beer
   Slowly whisk in the broth, scraping up all the browned bits (those are flavor confetti). Pour in the beer and let the whole thing simmer for 5–7 minutes.

5. Add the potatoes
   Stir in the diced potatoes and cook until they’re tender, about 10–15 minutes.

6. Milk, cream, and cheese time
   Lower the heat and add the milk, cream, smoked paprika, Dijon, and dry mustard. Then add the cheeses a handful at a time, stirring until melted and smooth.
   If it looks too thick, add a splash more milk or broth. If it looks too thin, keep simmering and pretend you meant to do that.

7. Season and serve
   Taste and season with salt and pepper.
   Top with the crispy bacon, chives, extra cheese, or all of the above.
   Dunk your sourdough pretzels like the winter-fighting champion you are.

If this soup doesn’t warm you right down to your Midwestern soul, nothing will.
Enjoy — and seriously, report back. I need to know if you also abandon all responsibilities and eat three bowls like I do.

Friends, the holidays are practically HERE. The neighbors have fully committed — the giant inflatable Santa is waving ominously at passing cars, someone down the street has already synchronized their lights to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, and the whole neighborhood smells faintly like cinnamon brooms and impending burnout.

And the Denver Christkindl Market? Oh, it’s happening. And this year, it’s being hosted right on Ivy and her brother's college campus (Auraria Campus). I am thrilled for them… and also wildly jealous in that supportive-parent-who-also-wants-steaming-hot-snacks kind of way.

Because listen. After any class —calculus, accounting, FAA ground school,  underwater basket weaving, whatever kids take these days — they can just stroll over and grab warm candied almonds, fresh fudge, or a Bavarian soft pretzel the size of their torso. Meanwhile, I’m over here still trying to remember where I stored the extension cords from last year.

Now, candied almonds and fudge will have their moment (trust me, I’ve already plotted the pan sizes), but today? Today I needed pretzels. Real pretzels. Chewy, dark, shiny, deeply bronzed Bavarian pretzels. The kind that makes you feel like you should be holding a stein and singing with strangers.

And in the spirit of authenticity — and mild recklessness — I decided to go full German grandma and use a lye dip. Yes, lye. The real stuff. The caustic “don’t put this near your eyeballs or any part of your body you’re fond of” stuff.

Before you panic on my behalf:
I did my research, wore the gloves, donned the glasses, and did not swallow it.
(If you attempt this: look it up, gear up, don’t do anything wild. YouTube is your friend. Your tap water is your friend. Your bare hands are NOT your friend.)

But you guys… it was SO worth it. Those pretzels came out glossy, chewy, golden, and more beautiful than the inflatable Santa riding the inflatable polar bear next door.  And the beer cheese soup that I used as a dip...swoon city.  I'll be sharing that recipe with you next.

Will I still be buying a pretzel bigger than my head when we go to the Christkindl Market?
Absolutely. You can’t stop me. I will also be inspecting this year’s commemorative mug like it’s a limited-edition artifact. (Don’t worry — I’ll take photos for you.)

In the meantime — feed your festive little self with a warm soft pretzel. And if the lye scares you? Totally fine. Swap in a baking soda dip. I won’t judge. But I might still whisper “lye is better” under my breath like a pretzel-obsessed gremlin.

Alright. Let’s bake.

---

Sourdough Bavarian Pretzels (Lye or Baking Soda Dip)

Ingredients

Pretzel Dough

• 1 cup (240 g) active sourdough starter (100% hydration)

• 1 cup (240 g) warm water

• 3 tbsp (40 g) unsalted butter, melted

• 1 tbsp brown sugar

• 1 tbsp coarse sea salt

• 3 ½–4 cups (420–480 g) bread flour

• 2 tsp instant yeast (yes, even with the starter — it helps with that tight pretzel crumb!)

Lye Dip (Authentic Option — Handle Carefully!)

• 1 liter of cool water

• 20 g food-grade lye pellets
  (Wear gloves, wear glasses, add lye to water — not the other way around.)

Baking Soda Dip (Friendly Option)

• 8 cups water

• ½ cup baking soda

Topping

• Coarse pretzel salt

• 4 tbsp melted butter (optional but… why would you skip it?)

---

Instructions

1. Make the Dough

In the bowl of your mixer (or a big bowl if you’re feeling swole), combine:
starter, warm water, melted butter, brown sugar, salt, and yeast.

Add 3 ½ cups of the flour and mix until a dough begins to form.
Knead 5–7 minutes until smooth and elastic.
Add more flour only if the dough is sticky-sticky, not tacky.

Cover and let rise 1–2 hours until puffy but not necessarily doubled. Sourdough is a free-spirited creature.

---

2. Shape the Pretzels

Divide the dough into 8–10 pieces.
Roll each into a long rope — about 20–24 inches.

Make a U-shape → twist the ends twice → flip the twist down.
Pretzel shape achieved!
Feel free to retrace your steps repeatedly until satisfied or until your family wanders in asking if you're okay.

Let the shaped pretzels rest on parchment while you prepare your dip.

---

3. Prepare Your Dip

If using lye:

Put on gloves and glasses.
Add lye to cold water (never the opposite). Stir with a stainless or silicone utensil.
It will go from “hmm” to “chemistry class flashback” extremely fast.

If using baking soda:

Bring water + baking soda to a simmer.
This method is safe and lovely and will not make you feel like you're committing alchemy.

---

4. Dip the Pretzels

One at a time, lower the pretzels into the lye or baking soda solution for 10–15 seconds.
Remove with a slotted spatula and place back on parchment.
They’re slippery little suckers — be gentle.

---

5. Bake

Sprinkle liberally with pretzel salt.
Bake at 450°F (230°C) for 12–15 minutes or until deep golden brown and shiny like they belong at Oktoberfest.

Immediately brush with melted butter if you want them soft and luxurious.

(You want them soft and luxurious.)

---

Serve Warm & Feel Very Accomplished

You did it! You made real Bavarian-style sourdough pretzels.

You battled yeast, dough ropes, potential lye anxiety, and the holiday chaos creeping into your neighborhood — and you still came out victorious and properly salted.

Now go enjoy one… or three.
Tell me how it goes!