My friends, I have some bad news. Ivy’s dad just got laid off from his job, and things may look a little different around here for a while. My posting schedule may be about as reliable as my sourdough starter in the dead of winter (which is to say: unpredictable). There may be more “use what you’ve got” recipes popping up, and maybe fewer fancy experiments. Because let’s be honest: when life tightens the belt, so do we.

But if you, too, are currently on a bumpy road—and I know a lot of us are these days—I want you to know I’m still here. And I’m bringing the one thing I know how to give in both joy and crisis: chocolate.

Seriously. Happy? I bake. Sad? I bake. Frustrated? I bake. Confused about the meaning of life while staring at the laundry pile? You guessed it—I bake. Baking is my comfort language, and chocolate is my love letter to the world.

So when the bad news fairy decided to darken my doorstep, I didn’t reach for the phone, I reached for the mixing bowl. (Okay, I did call a friend first, but only because someone needed to talk me out of making a seven-layer chocolate cake at 9 p.m.) Instead, I made these Sourdough Discard Chocolate Chunk Cookies—because the discard jar was giving me side-eye in the fridge, and also because… dark chocolate. Duh.

These cookies are the best kind of multitasker: they make use of something that would otherwise get tossed (hello, frugality), they satisfy the chocolate craving that bad news ignites, and they taste like a hug you didn’t know you needed.

Why Sourdough Discard in Cookies?

If you’re new to the sourdough life, you might be wondering: why on earth would I put tangy starter discard in a cookie? First of all, because it works like a dream. It adds moisture, a subtle depth of flavor, and just the tiniest bit of that mysterious tang that makes people go, “What’s in this?!” without actually screaming bread!

Plus, if you’re a regular baker, you know that discard is basically sourdough’s version of guilt. It sits there in the fridge, staring you down every time you reach for the milk, whispering, Are you going to waste me again? Not today, discard. Not today.

The Recipe: Sourdough Discard Chocolate Chunk Cookies

Ingredients

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

• 1 cup brown sugar, packed

• ½ cup granulated sugar

• 1 large egg

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• ½ cup sourdough discard (unfed)

• 2 ½ cups all-purpose flour

• 1 teaspoon baking soda

• ½ teaspoon baking powder

• ¾ teaspoon salt

• 8 oz dark chocolate, chopped into chunks (or chips, if that’s what you’ve got)

• Flaky sea salt for sprinkling (optional, but highly encouraged for drama)

Instructions

1. Preheat your hope. Set the oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Or don’t—life is chaotic, live on the edge.

2. Cream the butter and sugars. Beat the butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar together until they’re light, fluffy, and pretending they have their life together.

3. Add the wet crew. Mix in the egg, vanilla, and sourdough discard. It may look a bit curdled or suspicious—don’t panic. Discard likes to make a dramatic entrance.

4. Whisk the dry team. In another bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.

5. Combine forces. Stir the dry ingredients into the wet until just combined. Fold in those gorgeous chocolate chunks like you’re tucking them into bed.

6. Scoop & sprinkle. Drop by heaping tablespoons (or a cookie scoop, if you’re fancy) onto the sheet. Sprinkle with flaky salt for that salted chocolate magic.

7. Bake & breathe. 10–12 minutes, just until the edges are set but the centers are still a little soft. Let them cool for a few minutes before devouring—long enough to whisper “this is my dinner now” in peace.

When Life Gets Messy, Bake Anyway

So yeah, things might be a bit wobbly over here for a bit. There’s a lot we can’t control right now. But what I can control is whether or not I have a warm cookie in my hand while facing it. These little discs of joy are proof that even in tough times, there’s sweetness to be found—or baked.

Whether your life right now is all roses and sunshine or it feels like you’re pushing a boulder uphill in flip-flops, make these cookies. You’ll feel better for it, I promise. And if you’re holding your own bit of bad news today, consider this recipe my way of sliding a plate of fresh-baked cookies across the table to you.

Hang in there, my friends. And save me one, will you?

Hello friends! Gather ‘round, because I’ve got a story involving two of my favorite things: food and mystery. You see, in our house, there’s been a bit of an Agatha Christie takeover lately—and by “lately,” I mean I’m starting to wonder if I should just go ahead and install a secret bookcase door and keep a magnifying glass handy at all times. Miss Ivy—my darling, book-devouring daughter—is OBSESSED. With a capital O. And a capital B-S-E-S-S-E-D.

I’m not exaggerating when I say she’s working her way through Agatha’s entire collection like it’s her job. At this rate, she’s going to finish the canon before she’s 25—which, might I just add, is going to happen far faster than her mama is emotionally ready for. (Excuse me while I sit quietly in the corner with my knitting and existential dread.)

Anyway, being the enabler (ahem…supportive mother) that I am, I decided to feed the obsession in the most natural way I know how: food. I found a cookbook called “Recipes for Murder”—yes, that’s the actual title, and yes, it’s as amazing as it sounds. It’s chock full of recipes inspired by Ms. Christie’s novels, from quaint little cucumber sandwiches that scream “tea with Miss Marple” to decadent treats Poirot would most certainly arrange just so on his breakfast tray.

And then Ivy spotted it. The recipe she simply had to have: Coffee Ice Cream Sodas.

Why? Well, two reasons:
A) She loves Anne Beddingfield in The Man in the Brown Suit. (If you know, you know—Anne is adventurous, witty, and a little reckless, which, honestly, is also a decent description of Ivy.)
B) Ice Cream Sodas. I mean, do we even need to elaborate on that?

Ivy begged me to make them, and I—being a sucker for a good mother-daughter bonding session—agreed. But with two conditions:

1. I’d get to photograph them and share them with all of you (hi, blog fam!).

2. We’d both drink two, just like Anne in the book.

Spoiler alert: There’s no mystery here. They’re delicious. So much so that I considered going for a third, but my caffeine tolerance tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Ma’am, do you value sleep at all?”

The Case of the Perfect Coffee Ice Cream Soda

Let’s talk about what makes this drink so darn good. It’s the perfect marriage of grown-up flavor (coffee) and childhood nostalgia (ice cream soda!). There’s a little fizziness, a little creaminess, a lot of cold frothy magic, and a dash of “Oh wow, why don’t I make these all the time?”

And the best part? You don’t need Poirot’s little gray cells to make it happen. Just some good coffee, a scoop (or three) of ice cream, and a willingness to pretend you’re a glamorous 1920s adventuress in between sips.

Recipe: Coffee Ice Cream Sodas

Ingredients

• 3 cups chilled strong coffee (or cold brew, if you’re fancy)

• 1 tbsp vanilla extract

• 1/2 cup of half and half

• 2/3 cup sugar

• 2–3 scoops vanilla ice cream per glass (coffee ice cream also works if you want to double down)

• 1/2 cup chilled club soda (or seltzer) per glass

• Whipped cream (optional, but let’s be honest, also mandatory)

• A sprinkle of cocoa powder or chocolate shavings for garnish

Instructions

1. Brew your coffee. Or open your cold brew like the modern sophisticate you are.  Then add the vanilla, half and half and sugar.  Combine until the sugar desolves.  Let it chill—because a warm soda is just…wrong.

2. Scoop that ice cream into a tall glass. Be generous. Ann Beddingfield would approve.

3. Good stuff coming in. Time to add the coffee.  Fill each cup about half way up. Pour it gently over the ice cream so it's even prettier.

4. Fizz it up! Slowly pour the club soda on top and watch the magical foamy head rise. (Resist the urge to stick your finger in it like a 5-year-old. Or don’t. This is a judgment-free zone.)

5. Crown it with whipped cream and a little chocolate garnish because why not lean all the way in?

6. Drink two. It’s what Anne did. It’s what Ivy insisted. It’s the law now.

The Verdict

Friends, these are dangerous in the best possible way. They’re refreshing yet indulgent, caffeinated yet nostalgic. Ivy slurped hers down with the satisfied grin of someone who just solved the case before the detective even showed up, and I…well, I drank my two, took approximately 47 photos for this post (because apparently I am the one living in a whodunit where the victim is “good lighting”), and briefly considered a third before my hands started vibrating like Poirot’s moustache in a stiff breeze.

Will I make them again? Absolutely. Will I insist they be served with every future Agatha Christie marathon we have in this house? 100%.

Also, side note: Ivy has now informed me that she wants to try the Murder Is Announced Delicious Death cake next, so if I mysteriously disappear, just know I was last seen with enough chocolate to cause spontaneous demise.  And don't worry, there WILL be photos of that beauty coming, too!

So, there you have it—my foray into literary beverages, maternal bribery, and the fine art of photographing something before it melts into a sticky puddle. If you’ve got a budding detective (or just a caffeine fiend) in your life, whip up a couple of these Coffee Ice Cream Sodas and toast to good mysteries, good books, and the kind of mother-daughter moments that make all the sticky countertops worth it.

Hello friends! Gather ‘round because I’ve got another episode of “my family won’t eat it, but I want to try it” for you today. If you’ve been here a while, you know that cooking in my house is… let’s say… a delicate dance. When you’ve got kids with ARFID (Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder) and everything you make has to pass the beige test—you know, toast, chicken nuggets, mac & cheese—it can really mess with your adventurous little foodie heart.

So here I am, standing in the produce section, staring down the most glorious, golden, fresh ears of corn you’ve ever seen—like they were just whispering, “Pick me! Slather me in something delicious! Make me your summer side dish!” And I thought: Mexican Street Corn.

Here’s the thing. I’ve never actually made Mexican Street Corn before. Never! I know, what kind of food blogger am I? The kind that eats a lot of bread, that’s what kind. But when the universe hands you perfect corn, you listen.

The Mayo Dilemma

Now, full disclosure: I am a selective eater. I wouldn’t say I have ARFID, but I do have a personal list of foods that give me the ick. At the very top? Mayonnaise. It’s a no from me, dawg. So imagine my face when I realized the classic version of Mexican Street Corn is basically: “Here, have some corn with a big ol’ dollop of mayo.”

Cue internal screaming.

But because I’m also stubborn (and hungry), I decided to make it work my way. Enter: Greek yogurt. Tangy, creamy, a little lighter on the guilt scale—this was my “mayonnaise who?” moment. And friends… it was so good. Like, “stand over the sink eating it straight off the cob while pretending you made it for dinner” good.

What is Mexican Street Corn Anyway?

If you’re like me and have somehow avoided this glorious creation for years, let’s break it down:

• Start with grilled corn on the cob (bonus points if it’s got those pretty little char marks).

• Slather it in a creamy, tangy sauce (traditionally mayo, but see above).

• Sprinkle on some cotija cheese (fancy Mexican cheese that tastes like feta and parmesan had a baby).  Or if you're like me and the inspiration hit and you only had parmesan in the fridge, go parm.  I wont judge you.

• Add a squeeze of lime, a little chili powder or Tajín, maybe a sprinkle of cilantro if you’re feeling wild.

It’s messy. It’s a little over the top. And it’s absolutely everything a summer side dish should be.

But Will My Family Eat It?

Hahahahaha. No.

Listen, when your household cuisine wheelhouse revolves around various shades of beige, a cob of corn covered in tangy, spicy, cheesy goodness is just not going to fly. My ARFID crew looked at it like it was wearing a Halloween costume and walked away.

So I did what any rational, carb-obsessed, vegetable-loving mom would do: I made it for myself and served them something beige on the side. Win-win.

The Recipe: Grilled Mexican Street Corn (No Mayo Version)

Here’s how you can make it happen without the mayo-induced trauma:

Ingredients

• 4 ears fresh corn on the cob, husked

• 1 tablespoon olive oil

• 1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt (full-fat for best flavor)

• 1 clove garlic, minced

• Juice of 1 lime

• 1/2 teaspoon chili powder (or Tajín if you’re fancy)

• 1/2 cup crumbled cotija cheese (or parmesan if that's what you've got in the fridge like me)

• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro or parsley (optional, but makes you look like you tried, I've got loads of parsley growing in the garden, so that's what made the cut)

• Extra lime wedges for serving

Instructions

1. Preheat the grill to medium-high heat. If you don’t have a grill, a grill pan or even your oven broiler will work in a pinch.

2. Brush the corn with olive oil. Don’t drown it—just a light coat so it doesn’t stick.

3. Grill the corn, turning occasionally, until it’s charred in spots and tender (about 8–10 minutes).

4. In a small bowl, mix the Greek yogurt, garlic, lime juice, and chili powder. Taste and adjust—more lime if you want more tang, more chili powder if you want to show off to your spice-loving friends.

5. Slather the hot corn with the yogurt mixture. Be generous—it’s the whole point!

6. Sprinkle with cotija  or parmisan cheese and cilantro/parsley, then serve with extra lime wedges because dramatic lime squeezing at the table is a power move.

Pro Tips (a.k.a. Stuff I Learned the Messy Way)

• Wear a shirt you don’t love. Mexican Street Corn is delicious but it will attempt to redecorate your clothes.

• Don’t skip the lime. The lime is not a garnish—it’s the Beyoncé of this dish.

• If you don’t like cilantro or you don't have any, use parsley or leave it out. We don’t need that kind of drama today.

• Want to make it a meal? Cut the kernels off the cob and toss with rice, black beans, and some avocado for a bowl situation that looks like you meal-prepped on purpose.

Final Verdict

This Grilled Mexican Street Corn is a yes from me, a “hard pass” from my family, and a “why did it take me this long to make it” from my inner foodie.

Sometimes, cooking isn’t about what everyone will eat. Sometimes it’s about reclaiming a little corner of your plate for you. And this, my friends, is my corner of the plate.

So if you’ve been waiting for a reason to try Mexican Street Corn, consider this your sign. And if you already love it but want to feel slightly smug about making a lighter version, I’ve got you covered.

What about you—have you made Mexican Street Corn? Do you mayo or do you Greek yogurt? Or are you still stuck in the beige trenches with me?

Either way, I highly recommend giving this one a go… even if you’re the only one at the table eating it.

Friends, it’s that magical time of year again.
It’s Palisade Peach Season, baby!

You know the signs: roadside stands popping up along the highway like little fruit-filled oases, handmade banners declaring, “We have Palisade Peaches” flapping in the breeze. It’s basically Colorado’s version of the Bat-Signal, and let me tell you, I come running.

If left to my own devices, I would stop at every. single. stand. Like, “Oh, these peaches came from the orchard across the street from the orchard I just bought peaches at? Clearly, I need to taste test for quality control.” But alas, no one in my house eats peaches but me. (Yes, I’m looking at you, ARFID. You should know that these sweet little bombs of juicy goodness are a green light food, but apparently the system is broken.)

So, because I live with picky people who would happily survive on bread, chicken nuggets, and Goldfish Crackers, I have to restrain myself. I can’t roll home with an entire carload of peaches just for myself like some kind of stone fruit hoarder. Which means, when I do get my hands on a precious basket, I need to make it count.

Enter: Peach Muffins with Streusel Topping.

These are not your average muffins. They’re super moist, lightly spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, and studded with juicy peach chunks that basically scream “Summer is still here, don’t give up yet!” Every bite has that buttery crumb topping that makes you feel like you’re eating dessert for breakfast (because you are, and that’s why we love muffins).

Look, I don’t know about you, but the whole “back to school/work grind” hits me like a brick wall every August. One second I’m pretending to be a carefree summer person, stopping to smell the roses and sighing with pleasure as I wander through Botanic Gardens,  then I’m staring at a to do list a mile and a half long at my desk, wondering how it’s possible that I already have two kids in college and I missed the best parts of summer...again. So yes, I cling to summer wherever I can get it. These muffins are like a pep talk from the universe: “It’s okay. You’ve still got this. Summer isn’t over yet.”

And honestly? When you’re sitting at your desk, secretly wishing you were poolside with a peach daiquiri in hand, a warm peach muffin with streusel topping is the next best thing.

So let’s bake, shall we?

Peach Muffins with Streusel Topping

Ingredients

For the muffins:

• 1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour

• 1 tsp baking powder

• ½ tsp baking soda

• ½ tsp salt

• 1 tsp cinnamon

• ¼ tsp nutmeg

• ½ cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled

• ¾ cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs

• ½ cup sour cream (or Greek yogurt if you’re that person)

• 2 tsp vanilla extract

• 1 ½ cups chopped fresh peaches (peeled if you want, but I’m lazy and leave the skins on)

For the streusel topping:

• ½ cup all-purpose flour

• ½ cup brown sugar

• 1 tsp cinnamon

• 4 tbsp unsalted butter, melted

• 1 cup powdered sugar

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

• 2 -3 tbsp heavy cream

Directions

1. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Line a muffin tin with paper liners (or don’t, if you enjoy chiseling baked goods out of pans).

2. Make the streusel topping: In a small bowl, mix the flour, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Pour in the melted butter and stir with a fork until crumbly. Try not to eat it all with said fork before the muffins are ready.

3. Mix the dry ingredients: In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

4. Mix the wet ingredients: In a large bowl, whisk melted butter, sugar, eggs, sour cream, and vanilla until smooth.

5. Combine: Add the dry ingredients to the wet, mixing gently until just combined. Don’t overmix unless you enjoy sad, tough muffins. Fold in the chopped peaches.

6. Fill muffin cups: Divide the batter evenly among 12 muffin cups. Generously sprinkle streusel topping over each one, piling it high because this is the whole point.

7. Bake: Bake for 20–25 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean (or at least not gooey with raw batter—peach juice is allowed).

8. Cool for 15 minutes in the pan. Peaches add a lot of moisture so you want these to set up a little bit.

9. Let cool completely then add optional glaze.  For real, I know you want to start jamming these in the old pie hole as soon as they come out of the pan.  They'll fall apart though, so give them about 20 minutes to cool off.  Drizzle with glaze and then they're good to go!

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Notes & Tips

• If your peaches are extra juicy, toss them with a tablespoon of flour before folding into the batter. This keeps them from sinking to the bottom.

• These muffins freeze beautifully. Which is code for: I pretend I’m freezing them for later, but then I just eat them straight from the freezer like some kind of pastry-loving raccoon.

• Want to go wild? Add a handful of chopped pecans to the streusel. It’s like a peach cobbler-muffin mashup.

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Final Thoughts

Peach season is short, my friends. Blink, and suddenly it’s pumpkin spice season and Target is selling fake Christmas trees again. So while the sun is still shining and the peaches are still dripping down your arm when you bite into them, grab a basket (or three) and make these muffins.

Will my family eat them? Probably not. But that just means more for me, and honestly, I’m not mad about it.

So, next time you see one of those roadside signs waving at you, don’t resist. Stop the car. Buy the peaches. Make the muffins. Summer isn’t over until you say it is.

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🍑 Peach season is short…make muffins. 🍑

Back-to-school season is officially upon us. Honestly, it doesn’t matter if we’re talking kindergarten or grad school—there’s just something about sharpened pencils, fresh notebooks, and overpriced planners that makes me think about after-school snacks.

Now, if I’m being real (and when am I not?), I’m basically always thinking about snacks. The kids heading back to campus is just an excuse to justify it. I mean, I can’t exactly tell them, “Hey, you’re adults now, hit the pantry 'because you're on your own.” The mom in me refuses. So of course, now that the kiddos are doing their college thang while still living under our roof (because have you seen rent in Colorado lately?!), I’m over here scheming up ways to feed them like they’re still six years old.

Enter: Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cereal Milk Baked Donuts.

Yes, donuts. For after school. For after anything, really.

See, Ivy LOVES Cinnamon Toast Crunch. She will defend it to the death as the superior cereal, and honestly, I kind of agree. (Sorry, Lucky Charms. Your marshmallows are fun but we all know they’re basically just freeze-dried sugar cubes wearing pastel.) Anyway, the other day I was flipping through one of my cookbooks—aka what I do when I don't like what the hubby is watching on tv—and I stumbled across cereal milk donuts.

Cereal. Milk. Donuts.

I mean, how could I not? Immediately my brain went: Ivy. Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Donuts. Ding ding ding, we have a winner.

So here we are. Donuts inspired by everyone’s favorite cinnamon-sugar crunchy goodness, made in baked form because (a) deep-frying stresses me out, (b) I don’t need a pot of hot oil trying to end me in my own kitchen, and (c) baked donuts are basically muffins with a glow-up. And I am here for that energy.

And guess what? These things are ridiculously good. Soft, fluffy, spiced just right, topped with a creamy glaze and a shower of crushed Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Honestly, they taste like childhood nostalgia wrapped in a warm hug.

And if CTC isn’t your thing? (It’s okay, we can still be friends.) Swap in your favorite cereal and make it your own! Froot Loops, Cocoa Puffs, Frosted Flakes—go wild. Just maybe don’t try Grape Nuts. I feel like that would be… a choice.

The Recipe: Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cereal Milk Baked Donuts

Step One: Make the Cereal Milk

Yes, we’re making cereal milk. This is where the magic happens.

You’ll need:

• 1 cup Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal

• 1 cup whole milk (2% works too, but whole milk = more flavor)

Instructions:

1. In a bowl, combine the cereal and milk. Let it sit for 20–30 minutes so the milk can soak up all that sweet cinnamon flavor.

2. Strain out the cereal (and try not to eat the soggy bits straight out of the strainer, because that’s a slippery slope).

3. Boom. You’ve got cereal milk.

Step Two: The Donuts

Ingredients:

• 1 cup all-purpose flour

• 1 tsp baking powder

• ½ tsp baking soda

• ½ tsp ground cinnamon

• ¼ tsp salt

• 1 large egg

• ⅓ cup granulated sugar

• ¼ cup brown sugar

• ¼ cup vegetable oil (or melted butter, but oil keeps them moist longer)

• ½ cup cereal milk (from above)

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a donut pan like your life depends on it (because there is no sadder sight than half a donut stuck to the pan).

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

3. In another bowl, whisk the egg, both sugars, oil, cereal milk, and vanilla until smooth.

4. Stir the wet into the dry just until combined. (Don’t overmix unless you want tough donuts that double as paperweights.)

5. Spoon or pipe the batter into the prepared donut pan, filling each about ¾ full.

6. Bake 10–12 minutes, or until the donuts spring back when lightly touched.

7. Let cool in the pan for a couple of minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Try not to eat one immediately. (Spoiler: you will.)

Step Three: The Glaze + Topping

Ingredients:

• 1 cup powdered sugar

• 2–3 tbsp cereal milk (yep, more of that liquid gold)

• ½ tsp vanilla extract

• 1 cup crushed Cinnamon Toast Crunch (just throw some in a zip-top bag and whack it with a rolling pin—it’s therapeutic)

Instructions:

1. Whisk powdered sugar, cereal milk, and vanilla until smooth. If it’s too thick, add a splash more cereal milk. Too thin? More sugar.

2. Dip each cooled donut into the glaze, then sprinkle generously with crushed cereal.

3. Admire your work like you’re on The Great British Bake Off, then devour.

Why You Need These Donuts in Your Life

• They’re baked, not fried, which makes them health food (don’t argue, just let me have this).

• They double as breakfast, snack, or dessert—basically, an all-day food group.

• They’re customizable with whatever cereal makes your inner child sing.

• They make you look like a culinary genius when really you just soaked cereal in milk and called it a day.

Final Thoughts (a.k.a. Me Trying to Justify My Snack Obsession)

Look, back-to-school season comes with a lot of emotions. Pride that your kids are growing up. Nostalgia for when they were tiny. Existential dread about how old you are now. (Just me? Cool.)

But snacks make it better. Snacks always make it better. And these Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cereal Milk Baked Donuts? They’re basically edible therapy. Ivy loved them, the rest of the family devoured them, and I may or may not have hidden one in the back of the fridge for “later” (a.k.a. 10 minutes after everyone went to bed).

So the next time you’re feeling all the feelings about back-to-school—or you’re just hungry, which is my permanent state—whip up a batch of these donuts. Because honestly? You deserve a snack too.

Today is the kiddos’ first day back to school. College, that is. Which, can we just pause for a moment and acknowledge that I have college students? Two of them. Both still living at home (have you SEEN the price of rent in Colorado?), which is a win for me because A) I get to see them every day, and B) they still eat my food. I mean, that’s the dream, right? Raise them, feed them, send them into the world…and then have them boomerang back with their dirty laundry and hollow legs.

Anyway, because I’m a mom and because I can’t help myself, I decided to make them an after-school snack. Yes, I know they’re technically adults, but if you think that stops me from meeting them at the door with baked goods like it’s 1999, you’d be wrong. And since Miss Ivy is taking calculus this semester (and She. Is. Not. Happy.), I figured she needs some serious chocolate therapy. Honestly, I can’t blame her. I’m a words girl, not a numbers girl. Give me sentences, give me stories, give me endless rambling blog posts about baked goods—but please, for the love of butter, keep your derivatives and integrals away from me.

Unless we’re talking baker’s percentages, in which case I will whip out my scale and look very smug about it. But that’s basically fake math. Delicious math. And that, my friends, is the only kind I do.

So what’s a mom to do when calculus is looming and adulthood feels a little too adult-y? Cosmic brownies, but make them grown up. And by grown up, I mean thick, fudgy, laced with espresso powder, topped with a glossy layer of chocolate ganache, and buried under an avalanche of sprinkles. Because comfort food should feed you AND your inner child, am I right?

These Espresso Brownies with Chocolate Ganache and Sprinkles are basically the Voltron of desserts—strong on their own, but when they come together, they’re unstoppable. Deep, dark brownie base? Check. Rich ganache? Double check. A bazillion sprinkles? Oh yes, because adulthood is hard enough without denying yourself rainbow sugar confetti.

Let’s bake!

Espresso Brownies with Chocolate Ganache and Sprinkles

Ingredients:

For the brownies:

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter

• 2 cups granulated sugar

• 4 large eggs

• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract

• 1 cup all-purpose flour

• 1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

• 1 tablespoon espresso powder

• 1/2 teaspoon salt

• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder

For the ganache:

• 1 cup heavy cream

• 8 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, chopped (or use chips if that’s what you’ve got)

• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter (for shine)

For the top:

• ALL the sprinkles your heart desires (seriously, measure with your soul)

Instructions:

1. Preheat & prep: Heat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a 9x13-inch pan with parchment paper, leaving some overhang so you can lift the brownies out later.

2. Brownie base: In a saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Once melted, whisk in the sugar until it’s shiny and glossy like you just applied a fresh coat of lip gloss. Let it cool slightly (we don’t want scrambled eggs in our brownies).

3. Add the eggs & vanilla: Beat in the eggs one at a time, then stir in the vanilla. At this point, the batter should look like something you want to dive into headfirst.

4. Dry ingredients: In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa powder, espresso powder, salt, and baking powder. Stir this into the wet mixture until just combined. Do not overmix unless you enjoy eating rubbery brownies (spoiler: you don’t).

5. Bake: Pour the batter into your prepared pan, smooth it out, and bake for 30-35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with fudgy crumbs. Not raw batter, not bone-dry crumbs—fudgy. Trust the process.

6. Cool completely: This is the hardest part. Yes, your kitchen will smell like a chocolate factory. Yes, you will want to dive in face-first. But patience, grasshopper, because ganache needs a cool surface to live its best life.

7. Ganache time: Heat the cream in a small saucepan until it just begins to simmer. Pour it over the chopped chocolate and let it sit for a minute. Stir until smooth, then add the butter and stir again. Congratulations, you just made ganache, aka chocolate magic.

8. Assemble: Pour the ganache over the cooled brownies, spreading it evenly to the edges. Then go full chaos and dump on the sprinkles. As many as your inner child demands. More sprinkles = more joy.

9. Set & slice: Let the ganache set for about an hour (or cheat and pop it in the fridge for 20 minutes if you’re impatient). Lift the brownies out with the parchment overhang, cut into squares, and marvel at your work.

Notes from the Kitchen Table

• These are not “grab one on the way to class” brownies. These are “sit down with a glass of milk and contemplate life choices” brownies.

• The espresso powder doesn’t make them taste like coffee so much as it makes the chocolate taste deeper, richer, and more sophisticated. Like your brownies just put on glasses and started quoting Shakespeare.

• If you don’t like sprinkles, that’s fine. You’re wrong, but it’s fine.

So there you have it: a grown-up cosmic brownie that’s fudgy enough to make you forget calculus exists. Or at least to soften the blow of seeing “differential equations” on your syllabus.

Either way, we win. Because there are brownies.

Ok friends, the kids start their Freshman and Junior years IN COLLEGE on Monday and I’m over here trying to deal with the dual existential crisis of summer break being over and getting old.

Like… how did this happen? I swear it was just yesterday that I was cutting crusts off sandwiches shaped like dinosaurs and now I’m debating whether I should cry, sell the house, or just lean into my new identity as “woman who sits on porch and mutters about the price of milk.”

I know, I know—life is change, kids grow up, blah blah blah… but right now, the only coping mechanism I have is carbs, baby! And not just any carbs: super soft Hawaiian rolls. Sweet, buttery, pillowy little clouds of happiness that give you a hug from the inside.

Could I just go to the store and grab a bag of King’s Hawaiian rolls?
Sure.
Would it be easier?
Absolutely.
Would they taste even remotely as good as homemade?
Nope.

And besides, baking bread is basically therapy with snacks at the end.

So, I made them. And now I’m here to tell you—you can too. These rolls are dangerously good. They’re perfect for sliders, they’re divine with peach jam, and yes, they’re also great for just sitting in the corner and shoving into your mouth while you refuse to deal with real life for a few more minutes. (Just me? No? Great.)

Why Homemade is Worth It

Let’s be honest: Hawaiian rolls from the store are fine. We all know that soft, slightly sweet flavor and that orangey-golden top. But when you make them yourself, the difference is night and day. You get:

• Fresh-from-the-oven softness that makes you want to take a nap on them.

• Butter dripping down your fingers—because homemade has no rules.

• Bragging rights when you put them on the table and casually say, “Oh, these? Just something I whipped up.”

Plus, if you’re spiraling about your kids growing up, kneading dough is an excellent way to work out your feelings without throwing an actual punch. It’s all very wholesome.

The Flavor Secret

The magic of Hawaiian rolls comes from pineapple juice. Not so much that it screams “tropical vacation!” but just enough to give a gentle sweetness and tender texture. Then there’s the butter—lots of it—because at this point, my cholesterol and I are on a first-name basis.

Hawaiian Soft Rolls Recipe

Ingredients

• ¾ cup warm pineapple juice (about 110°F)

• ¼ cup warm milk

• ¼ cup unsalted butter, melted

• ⅓ cup granulated sugar

• 2¼ tsp (1 packet) active dry yeast

• 2 large eggs, room temperature

• 4 cups all-purpose flour (plus more for kneading)

• 1 tsp salt

• 1 egg + 1 Tbsp water (for egg wash)

• Additional melted butter for brushing after baking

Instructions

1. Bloom the yeast
   In a large mixing bowl (or the bowl of your stand mixer), whisk together the warm pineapple juice, warm milk, melted butter, sugar, and yeast. Let it sit for 5–10 minutes until it looks foamy and smells like a bakery.

2. Add the good stuff
   Beat in the eggs, then add the flour and salt. If you’re using a stand mixer, use the dough hook and mix on low until combined, then knead for 5–6 minutes. If kneading by hand, turn the dough onto a floured surface and knead for about 8 minutes until smooth and elastic. (Bonus: kneading burns enough calories to justify eating three rolls later.)

3. First rise
   Place the dough in a greased bowl, cover with a damp towel, and let it rise in a warm spot for 1–2 hours, or until doubled in size. This is a good time to scroll Zillow for beach houses you can’t afford.

4. Shape the rolls
   Punch down the dough (gently… unless you’re feeling feisty), then divide into 15 equal pieces. Shape each piece into a smooth ball and place in a greased 9x13 baking dish.

5. Second rise
   Cover again and let the rolls rise for another 45–60 minutes until puffed and cozy.

6. Bake
   Preheat your oven to 350°F. Brush the rolls with egg wash for that signature golden color. Bake for 20–25 minutes, until tops are golden brown and your kitchen smells like heaven.

7. Butter bath
   Immediately brush the hot rolls with melted butter. Try not to weep with joy.

Serving Ideas

• Sliders – Pile them with pulled pork, ham, or chicken salad.

• Breakfast – Split, toast, and slather with peach or strawberry jam.

• Therapy session – Eat them warm, one after another, while hiding from your responsibilities.

Final Thoughts (While I Eat Another Roll)

I know I can’t stop time. The kids are going to grow up, keep moving forward, and become even more awesome humans. And honestly, I’m so proud I could burst. But I’m also going to cry into this pan of rolls because apparently that’s who I am now.

So if you’re in your own back-to-school, life-is-changing, what-even-is-my-purpose moment, I highly recommend making these Hawaiian soft rolls. They’re sweet, they’re buttery, and they make you feel like maybe everything’s going to be okay.

And if not? Well… at least you’ll have carbs.