Friends, I have the most amazing kids. Seriously. I know every parent says that, but I genuinely hit the jackpot with mine. They’re smart, funny, kind, and—most importantly—they understand my deep, borderline obsessive love of baking.

Now, let’s be honest—there’s a looming emotional meltdown somewhere in my future when both of them are fully out in the world doing adult things without me. I can already picture myself sitting on the couch with a cup of tea, clutching a mixing spoon like a security blanket, muttering to myself about the days when they still fought over who got to lick the batter bowl. But for now, I get to enjoy the fact that my “adult kiddos” still hang out with me, and—bonus—they give really good birthday presents.

The Gift That Launched a Cookie Binge

Zander, came through big this year. He knows me well (that and his big sister told him, buy mom this! So is it a Z victory or an Ivy win?).  He showed up on my birthday with the new Sally’s Baking 101 cookbook. You guys. This is my love language. Some people unwind with Netflix; I unwind by reading a cookbook like it’s a novel.

Yes, I actually read them. Cover to cover. With a cup of coffee and the same level of focus other people reserve for murder mysteries or fantasy sagas. I analyze photos, dog-ear pages, and mutter things like, “Ooooh, that crumb structure!”

So, as tradition dictates, I sat down with the new book—flanked on either side by Zander and Ivy—and we started flipping through the glossy, butter-scented pages (yes, I swear cookbooks smell like butter and dreams). The ritual is simple: I flip, they scan, and one of them yells “STOP!” when something catches their eye.

We made it about halfway through when we landed on Chocolate Covered Peanut Butter Shortbread Cookies. Before I could even process the photo, Ivy screamed, “STOP!!!” so loudly the cat jumped off the couch.

And honestly? She was right. These cookies were calling our name.

Tagalongs, But Make Them Better

Now, I’m not saying these cookies are a total knockoff of Girl Scout Tagalongs… they're more like a tagalong and a peanut butter cup had a baby. Only better. Because no overpriced cardboard box, no guilt about walking past a tiny human asking if I want to support her troop, and no freezer full of regret when I realize I just spent $40 on cookies that disappeared in 12 minutes.

These buttery shortbread cookies have that perfect crumbly texture—rich and buttery but still crisp—and then there’s a layer of creamy peanut butter filling that sits on top like it knows it’s the main character. Finish it all off with a dip in glossy melted chocolate and sprinkled with flaky sea salt, and you’ve got yourself a cookie that could win awards, start wars, or at least make you temporarily forget about laundry.

And because I can never leave a recipe completely alone (I know, shocking), I made a few tweaks.

First, I made these bigger than traditional Tagalongs. Because when I want a cookie, I don’t want a polite little two-bite situation. I want a cookie. One that requires commitment. One that says, “Yes, I’m here for dessert, and I’m not apologizing.”

Second, I chilled the dough a bit longer—because if you’ve ever baked cookies at high altitude, you know the struggle is real. Cookie spread is not a cute look. These need structure, people.

The Verdict

The verdict from Ivy was immediate and enthusiastic. She inhaled one, paused mid-bite, and declared, “They’re even better than the original!”

And friends, she’s not wrong.

These are comfort cookies in every sense of the word. They’re nostalgic, chocolatey, peanut buttery, and—best of all—require zero coordination with a cookie sales season. You can bake them anytime the craving hits (which, if you’re me, is approximately always).

So, thank you, Sally, for creating this masterpiece. And thank you, Zander, for knowing exactly what kind of gift makes your mom’s heart (and stomach) happy. Now, the only question left is… what should I make next?

Knockoff Tagalong Cookies (aka Chocolate Covered Peanut Butter Shortbread Cookies)

Adapted slightly from Sally’s Baking 101

Ingredients

For the shortbread cookies:

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

• ¾ cup powdered sugar

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 2 cups all-purpose flour

• ¼ teaspoon salt

For the peanut butter layer:

• ¾ cup creamy peanut butter (no natural, runny stuff here)

• ¼ cup powdered sugar

• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, softened

• Pinch of salt

For the chocolate coating:

• 2 cups semi-sweet or milk chocolate chips

• 1 tablespoon coconut oil or shortening (for smoothness and shine)

• Flaky Sea Salt for topping (optional)

Directions

1. Make the shortbread dough:
   In a large bowl, beat the butter and powdered sugar until smooth and creamy. Add the vanilla. Gradually mix in the flour and salt until the dough just comes together. It’ll look a little crumbly—don’t panic. That’s how shortbread rolls.

2. Chill out:
   Roll the dough into a disc, wrap it in plastic, and chill for at least 30–45 minutes (or longer if you’re at high altitude). You can also make this dough a day ahead if you’re a planner or, you know, just got distracted watching a true-crime documentary.

3. Cut and bake:
   Preheat your oven to 350°F (177°C). Roll the dough out on a floured surface to about ¼-inch thickness. Cut into circles (use a round cutter, or just go wild with a glass if you can’t find one). Bake on a parchment-lined sheet for 10–12 minutes or until the edges are just golden. Cool completely.

4. Peanut butter perfection:
   In a medium bowl, mix the peanut butter, powdered sugar, butter, and salt until smooth. Spread about a teaspoon (or more, because who’s measuring?) of peanut butter mixture onto each cooled cookie. Chill the cookies again for about 30 minutes so the peanut butter firms up.

5. Chocolate dunk time:
   Melt the chocolate chips and coconut oil together until smooth. Dip each cookie into the chocolate to fully coat, then place on parchment to set.  Then sprinkle on that sea salt like the fancy goddess you are. You can pop them in the fridge for faster setting, but don’t blame me if you "taste test" one every five minutes.

6. Admire and devour:
   Once the chocolate has hardened, take a moment to bask in your cookie glory. Then eat one. Then another. Then hide the rest from your family if you have to.

So, there you have it: buttery, peanut-buttery, chocolate-covered perfection—no sashes, no sales pitches, and no guilt.

And to my kids: thank you for fueling my baking addiction under the guise of thoughtful gift-giving. To Sally: thank you for another winner. And to everyone else reading this, grab your mixing bowl and get ready to ruin all other cookies for yourself.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to flip through Sally’s Baking 101 again with Ivy and Zander. I have a feeling another “STOP!!!” moment is coming soon.

It’s that time of year again, friends. The weather is getting colder, there are pumpkins everywhere you look, the leaves are changing, and that means it’s sweater weather! Cue the sound of me aggressively pulling cardigans out of the back of the closet and pretending it’s not still 80 degrees at 2 p.m. because I refuse to let the calendar down.

I don’t know if there’s a better time of year than fall. As much as I love summer—the sunshine, the sandals, the late-night ice cream runs—this is my season. Give me cozy socks, cinnamon candles, and the smell of something pumpkin-y baking in the oven, and I am an absolute menace to society in the best possible way.

And speaking of pumpkin baking… let’s talk muffins.

You know I’m always looking for ways to use that sourdough discard. It’s basically my life’s mission at this point. I’ve put it in cookies, crackers, pancakes, and once, in a moment of deep experimentation (or possibly delirium), brownies. That'll be a blog for later, because...yummy. But these sourdough discard pumpkin muffins? Oh friends, these are the real deal.

Pumpkin, sourdough discard, and cream cheese are a match made in heaven—like the fall baking version of Taylor Swift and a chunky knit sweater. They belong together. The tang from the discard makes the pumpkin flavor pop, and the little pockets of cream cheese inside are the kind of thing that make you close your eyes, sigh dramatically, and pretend you’re in a cozy cottage somewhere in Vermont, rather than standing in your kitchen in fuzzy socks trying to remember where you left your coffee.

I’ve been noshing on these muffins for breakfast, snack, midnight munchies—you name it. Honestly, they might be my most versatile baked good to date. You can dress them up for brunch with friends, or just stand over the sink and eat one while contemplating your life choices. No judgment here.

So, put on that sweater, crank up some music that sounds vaguely like leaves crunching (you know the vibe), and bake up a batch of these cozy little miracles. You’ll thank me, I promise.

🍂 Sourdough Discard Pumpkin Muffins with Cream Cheese Filling

Makes: 12 glorious, autumn-scented muffins
Prep Time: 15 minutes
Bake Time: 22–25 minutes
Difficulty Level: Easy enough for a foggy fall morning before coffee

Ingredients

For the Muffins:

• 1 cup pumpkin purée (not pumpkin pie filling—don’t let Big Pumpkin trick you)

• ½ cup sourdough discard (unfed, straight from the fridge is fine!)

• 2 large eggs

• ½ cup neutral oil (canola, vegetable, or melted coconut oil)

• ¾ cup brown sugar, packed

• ¼ cup granulated sugar

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 1½ cups all-purpose flour

• 1½ teaspoons baking powder

• ½ teaspoon baking soda

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice (or mix cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and clove like the rebel you are)

For the Cream Cheese Filling:

• 6 oz cream cheese, softened

• 2 tablespoons sugar

• ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Optional Topping:

• Coarse sugar or a sprinkle of cinnamon sugar (because we’re fancy like that)

Instructions

1. Preheat and Prep:
   Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners or grease them lightly. Take a deep breath—it’s officially fall baking time.

2. Make the Cream Cheese Filling:
   In a small bowl, beat together the cream cheese, sugar, and vanilla until smooth and dreamy. Set it aside before you accidentally eat it with a spoon.

3. Mix the Wet Ingredients:
   In a large bowl, whisk together pumpkin purée, sourdough discard, eggs, oil, both sugars, and vanilla. It should look silky and smell like happiness.

4. Mix the Dry Ingredients:
   In another bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and pumpkin pie spice.

5. Combine the Batter:
   Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir until just combined. Don’t overmix—no one wants tough muffins.

6. Assemble the Muffins:
   Spoon a tablespoon of batter into each muffin cup, then add a small dollop (about a teaspoon) of cream cheese filling. Cover with another spoonful of batter. If you’re feeling extra, swirl the tops gently with a toothpick for that “I totally planned this” bakery look.

7. Top and Bake:
   Sprinkle the tops with coarse sugar or cinnamon sugar, then bake for 22–25 minutes, until a toothpick inserted near the edge comes out clean (avoid stabbing the cream cheese pocket unless you like emotional confusion).

8. Cool and Devour:
   Let the muffins cool for about 10 minutes before removing them from the pan. Try to let them cool completely before eating one, but honestly, if you manage that, you’re a stronger person than I am.

Pro Tips:

• Storage: These keep well in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 4 days. Warm them slightly before eating for maximum coziness.

• Freezing: Yes, you can freeze them! Wrap individually and store up to 2 months. Perfect for future you—who will definitely thank past you.

• Variation: Add chocolate chips or chopped nuts if you want to go rogue.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make another batch because Ivy already claimed the last one for her breakfast tomorrow. Apparently, “Mom, you can’t just say you’ll share baked goods and then eat them all.” Fair point.

But honestly, that’s the true danger of these muffins—they disappear. One minute, they’re cooling peacefully on the counter, and the next, it’s like a pack of muffin bandits came through. (Okay, it’s just me with a cup of coffee and no self-control.)

So here’s your mission: find your favorite sweater, light that cinnamon candle you bought three years ago and forgot about, and bake yourself a batch of these sourdough discard pumpkin muffins with cream cheese. Whether you share them or not is entirely up to you.

Happy fall, my friends—and may your muffins rise beautifully, your coffee stay hot, and your house smell like pumpkin spice heaven. 🧡

Hello, friends!

I’m back with another installment of my Agatha Christie–inspired kitchen adventures courtesy of the absolute gem of a cookbook called Recipes for Murder. I swear, that title makes me laugh every single time I say it. Recipes for Murder! It sounds like something you’d find scribbled in the margins of a suspect’s notebook in a Poirot mystery, or muttered by Miss Marple while she’s stirring sugar into her tea. And yet here it is, an actual cookbook filled with recipes connected to the Christie-verse. I honestly think it’s the funniest title for a cookbook ever, because let’s be clear: I am not out here poisoning anyone with arsenic-laced scones. No murders in my kitchen. None. Zip. Nada.

But—I am killing it in the kitchen. (Get it? Get it? Killing it? Please appreciate this wordplay because I have been saving it for weeks and honestly, my family is sick of hearing it.)

Anyway, today’s recipe is one I knew I had to try the second I spotted it in the book: blackberry jam, also known in my kitchen as Fifth Column Blackberry Jam. Why the dramatic title? Because it comes from N or M?, one of Ivy and I's favorite Tommy and Tuppence novels. And also because jam has a sneaky way of infiltrating every single carb in the house once you make it. Jam is the ultimate fifth columnist: it gets into your morning toast, your evening scone, and your midnight snack before you realize you’ve eaten half the jar standing at the fridge in your pajamas.

Ivy’s Favorite Detectives

Now, a little background. Ivy—my resident Agatha Christie fangirl—adores Tommy and Tuppence. They’re her absolute favorite characters from the Christie-verse, and honestly, I get it. They’re cheeky, brave, slightly chaotic, and their banter is top tier. I’ve read a bunch of their adventures with her, and N or M? might be my favorite. For one, Tuppence inventing an alter ego is absolutely hilarious. Like, why just be a spy when you can also be a dramatic spy? And two, Betty Sprot is the most adorable child character in the Christie canon, hands down.

So of course, when the book mentioned her fondness for blackberry jam, I knew what my kitchen mission was. I had to make Betty Sprot’s favorite spread.

And friends, this jam is not only ridiculously tasty—it’s also easy. Like, suspiciously easy. Like, “this is so simple maybe Christie herself was hiding state secrets in a jam jar” easy. We’re talking four ingredients, one pot, ten minutes of stirring. That’s it.

Small Batch, Big Payoff

This is a small batch jam, so you don’t have to commit to a dozen jars that will sit in your pantry for years while you pretend you’re the kind of person who “puts up” fruit every summer. Nope. This makes just enough for one jar—perfect for a weekend, or for an afternoon of reading N or M? while you sneak spoonfuls straight from the fridge.

Also, no pectin! Which is both great (fewer ingredients) and slightly terrifying (what do you mean, fruit sets itself??). But blackberries have enough natural pectin to make it work, so you get that lovely jammy texture without any fuss.

Inspired by Recipes for Murder

Fifth Column Blackberry Jam Recipe

Ingredients

• 3 cups (450 grams) blackberries

• 1 1/4 cups (250 grams) granulated sugar

• 1/4 teaspoon lemon juice

• 1 pinch salt

Instructions

1. Place the blackberries and sugar in a medium pot and let them muddle together for about 10 minutes. (This is basically fruit gossip time. The berries soften up, the sugar gets nosy, and everyone spills their secrets.)

2. Mash the berries up a bit, then add the lemon juice and salt. Give it a good stir.

3. Put the whole shebang on medium heat and stir gently until the sugar dissolves completely.

4. Increase the heat to medium-high and bring the mixture to a boil. Boil for 10 minutes, stirring constantly. (Yes, constantly. No wandering off to check your phone unless you want blackberry lava redecorating your stovetop.)

5. Pour into a fancy jar—or a recycled pickle jar you swore you’d use someday—and seal with the lid.

6. Let it come to room temperature before refrigerating. Then do your best to make it last longer than three days. Good luck.

A Jam Fit for Spies

I’m telling you, this jam is dangerously good. Slather it on toast, swirl it into yogurt, tuck it between cake layers, or eat it straight from the spoon while pretending you’re deciphering enemy code. I promise, it will make you feel at least 20% more like a clever spy and 100% more like a person who has their life together. (Which, if you’ve seen my laundry pile, is truly the performance of a lifetime.)

And honestly, there’s something kind of perfect about pairing this recipe with Christie’s espionage novel. N or M? is all about double agents, hidden identities, and who you can really trust—and blackberry jam is the exact opposite. Jam is pure, sweet, trustworthy comfort in a jar. Maybe that’s why Betty Sprot loves it. Even in a world of suspicion and secrets, there’s jam.

Escape Hatch

So here’s my deal for you: go make this jam, grab a copy of N or M?, and give yourself a break from the chaos of real life. Because if Agatha Christie taught us anything, it’s that sometimes the best way to deal with life’s mysteries is with a good story and something delicious to eat while you read it.

And hey—if you happen to solve an international spy conspiracy while you’re at it? Even better.

Until next time, friends. Don’t kill anyone—just kill it in the kitchen.

Hello my friends, I know it’s been a while. Life has definitely been making things interesting here lately, so a girl’s got to do the best she can. And in my case, the best I can is a yummy apple loaf cake with cinnamon glaze that is carb comfort for these trying times in our household.

Because let’s be real—sometimes “the best I can” looks like throwing frozen chicken nuggets at my kids and calling it gourmet, and sometimes it looks like a glorious loaf of cinnamon-swirled apple cake that makes the house smell like fall exploded in the best way possible. This week, I’m proud to say we’re on the winning side of things. We have cake.

And listen, I know there’s that old saying, “an apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Well, I firmly believe that still applies even if that apple happens to be wrapped up in sugar, butter, and cinnamon glaze. Honestly, I’m convinced the sugar makes it more medicinal. You can’t prove me wrong.

Why This Cake is Basically a Hug in Loaf Form

There’s just something about baking in the fall that feels mandatory, like sweaters or pumpkin patch photo ops. The air gets a little crisp, the leaves start doing their dramatic wardrobe change, and suddenly you can’t scroll Instagram without being assaulted by a thousand pumpkin spice lattes. Don’t get me wrong—I love a good PSL—but apples deserve their moment in the spotlight too.

This apple loaf cake is my way of celebrating fall while also tricking myself into thinking I’m making a healthy choice. Like, oh look at me, eating fruit! Never mind that the fruit is suspended in batter like a fly in amber. Details.

Plus, the cinnamon glaze on top takes this thing from “nice snack” to “don’t talk to me while I’m face-planting into this cake.” It’s warm, spiced, sweet, and just the right amount of sticky. Basically everything you want fall to taste like.

Real Talk: Life Lately

Now, before I get into the recipe, let’s talk life for a hot second. Things here have been… let’s say “spicy.” Not in a fun, jalapeño-on-taco-Tuesday way, but in a “plot twist the writers should have cut from the script” kind of way. You know the kind—unexpected bills, dealing with updating a resume for EVERY SINGLE job application, kids heading into midterms and me over here trying not to drown in it all.

But here’s what I’ve learned: when reality starts throwing curveballs, carbs are the answer. Always carbs. Pasta, bread, cake—it’s all fair game. And baking something that makes the whole house smell like apples and cinnamon? That’s basically therapy, only cheaper.

So yes, this apple loaf cake is delicious, but it’s also a survival strategy. A coping mechanism with frosting. And I’m here to share it with you because if reality is throwing lemons at you, you don’t always have to make lemonade. Sometimes you make cake.

The Recipe: Apple Loaf Cake with Cinnamon Glaze

Alright, let’s get down to business. Here’s what you’ll need:

Ingredients

For the Cake:

• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened

• 3/4 cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

• 1 tsp baking powder

• 1/2 tsp baking soda

• 1/2 tsp salt

• 1 tsp ground cinnamon

• 1/2 cup sour cream (or Greek yogurt if you’re pretending to be healthy)

• 2 medium apples, peeled, cored, and chopped (Granny Smith or Honeycrisp are perfect)

For the Cinnamon Glaze:

• 1 cup powdered sugar

• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

• 2–3 tbsp milk (adjust for drizzle consistency)

• 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Instructions

1. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease and line a standard loaf pan with parchment paper because no one likes scrubbing baked-on sugar cement.

2. In a mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. This is the part where you pretend you’re on a baking show and ignore the fact that your mixer sounds like it’s on its last legs.

3. Add in the eggs one at a time, then the vanilla. Mix until combined.

4. In another bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. (Yes, it’s annoying to dirty another bowl. No, you can’t skip it.)

5. Gradually add the dry ingredients into the wet, alternating with sour cream. Stir until just combined. Don’t overmix unless you enjoy cakes with the texture of a hockey puck.

6. Fold in the chopped apples. At this point, you will feel very smug about your fruit intake. Lean into it.

7. Pour the batter into your prepared loaf pan and smooth the top. Bake for 50–60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

8. Let it cool for about 15 minutes in the pan before transferring to a wire rack. If you try to glaze it while it’s still molten, you’ll have a cinnamon-sugar puddle instead of a glaze. Not that I’m speaking from experience (I totally am).

9. For the glaze: whisk together powdered sugar, cinnamon, milk, and vanilla until smooth. Drizzle generously over the cooled loaf.

10. Slice. Serve. Pretend you’ll only eat one piece. Immediately eat three pieces.

Serving Suggestions (a.k.a. How I Eat This Without Shame)

• Warm a slice in the microwave for 10 seconds and top with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Trust me.

• Pair with a cup of coffee and call it breakfast. Look, it has apples, so it counts.

• Bring it to a fall gathering and watch people think you’ve got your life together. (Spoiler: you don’t. None of us do.)

Final Thoughts

Fall is here, my friends, and getting your cozy bake on is a must no matter what reality is trying to throw at us. Life might be messy, unpredictable, and occasionally exhausting, but there’s a little magic in pulling a golden loaf cake out of the oven and drizzling it with cinnamon glaze.

So here’s to apples, cinnamon, and cake as self-care. Here’s to doing the best we can—even if that “best” sometimes involves eating half a loaf straight from the cutting board.

Enjoy this recipe, my friends. I hope it brings you as much comfort as it brought me. And if life is feeling like a circus right now, remember: carbs don’t solve everything, but they sure do help.

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.