Waffles are life around here. Full stop. No joke, I make a fresh batch once or twice a week (strictly dependent on how hungry the fam is) and they get reheated almost every morning like it's no big deal and I don’t have anything else to do with my time. I used to think this was a nice, cozy little habit — then I realized I had accidentally become the household Waffle Lady. I don’t remember applying for that job, but here we are.  And you know what, it makes them happy so I'm happy.

Now that I’m knee-deep in the ’ber months (September, October, Novem ber — you get it) I am absolutely feral for any excuse to make things cozier. But listen — it is not always easy to introduce change around here. My little tribe treats new recipes the way cats treat cucumbers. One whiff of innovation and they scatter.

But! Miracles do happen. I got Miss Ivy on board with making some super cozy cinnamon waffles and I am not exaggerating when I say they are SO GOOD. They look good, they smell good, and they taste AMAZING. Like… fall-scented-room-spray level amazing, but edible and socially acceptable at breakfast. No way was I keeping this to myself — so go forth and make some cinnamon waffles. And when you do, hit me up and let me know!

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Cinnamon Waffles

Ingredients

• 2 cups all-purpose flour

• 2 tbsp granulated sugar

• 1 tbsp ground cinnamon (yes — a full tablespoon, be brave)

• 2 tsp baking powder

• 1/2 tsp baking soda

• 1/2 tsp fine salt

• 2 large eggs

• 1 3/4 cups buttermilk (or milk + 1 tbsp lemon juice, let it sit 5 min)

• 1/3 cup melted butter or neutral oil

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

Optional (but recommended if you love joy):

• A pinch of nutmeg

• Cinnamon sugar to sprinkle on top while hot

• Lots of maple syrup-don't hold back my friends.  This is not diet food, so go for it.

Instructions

1. Preheat your waffle iron while you mix. We are efficient waffle people.

2. In a big bowl, whisk flour, sugar, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

3. In another bowl, whisk eggs, buttermilk, melted butter, and vanilla.

4. Pour wet into dry and stir just until incorporated — lumps are fine. Over-mixing is illegal.

5. Scoop batter into your hot, greased waffle iron. Cook until golden and crisp.

6. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar immediately if using — it sticks when they’re hot!

7. Serve with butter, syrup, apple butter, or eat over the sink — no judgment.

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If you make these, please tell me — partly because I love knowing I’m not the only waffle-obsessed person, and partly because I need external validation like a houseplant needs sunlight.

Now go. Waffle. ✨

Happy Halloween my friends! It’s time to welcome the neighborhood kids to the door and I am armed with two giant bags of candy and some ridiculous treats for Ivy and her brother to boot. Now, could I be a grown-up and give you some amazing cocktail recipe to make for your swanky Halloween party? I could… but I’m not going to, because I am not swanky. I am the opposite of swanky.

I am that kid-friendly mama who makes brownies, drizzles melted white chocolate in squiggly lines, sticks on candy eyeballs and calls them mummies. I don’t know if Martha Stewart would approve — but I don’t invite Martha Stewart to my house, so we’re fine.

Yes, my kids are adult-sized humans. Yes, they drive and have jobs and can file taxes. And yet… nobody — and I repeat nobody — resists a fudgy brownie dressed like a mummy. We see those eyeballs and we melt into children again. It’s science.

🎃 Mummy Brownies

You Need:

• 1 pan of brownies — boxed, homemade, whatever your soul has energy for

• ~½ cup white chocolate chips (or white candy melts)

• Candy eyeballs (the sillier the better)

Make Them:

1. Bake your brownies. Let them cool fully (I know, rude, but if you ice hot brownies it’s chaos).

2. Cut into whatever size squares your conscience allows.

3. Melt white chocolate chips in the microwave in 15–20 second bursts, stirring between each.

4. Drizzle the melted white chocolate over the brownies in zig-zag “mummy wrap” lines.

5. Press 2 candy eyes on each while the chocolate is still soft.

6. Try not to cackle with delight at how easy and adorable this was.

Serve with hot chocolate, hand out candy, judge costumes, and live your best cozy, non-swanky, brownie-mummy life.

Happy Halloween — long live cozy baking season.

I’m at it again, my friends. There is nothing — and I mean nothing — about this that resembles a traditional pizza. Should I call it an Autumn Flatbread? Probably. Will I? Absolutely not. This is pizza in my book. And my book is delicious, indulgent, borderline chaotic and completely non-traditional, so I’m sticking with it.

Honestly, it’s almost not even a recipe — more of a “dump things on hot bread and pray” situation — but here we are, and I’m going to share with you exactly how to put this gourdiful baby together.

HOW TO MAKE THIS BEAUTY

First things first: the crust.
You need a sturdy base for this fall mountain of joy. I made a beer pizza crust and kept it nice and thick so it could hold up to all the toppings. Beer = flavor + vibes.

Next up: the squash.
Roast cubed butternut squash with olive oil, chili powder, cinnamon, salt, and a drizzle of honey. Sweet-spicy fall glory in a pan.

While that roasts: bacon.
Fry up some slices until crispy. Try not to eat all of it while you wait… which is harder than it sounds.

When the squash is done, let it cool a bit while you stick a pizza steel or stone into the oven and crank that thing to 500°F. No messing around.

ASSEMBLY

Press your dough out and rub the surface with olive oil. Then layer on:

• roasted butternut squash

• one Honeycrisp apple, chopped

• a handful (or two — I’m not here to judge) of shredded cheddar

• the crispy bacon

• dollops of creamy goat cheese all over the top

Slide that fall fiesta into the oven and bake 12–15 minutes.

Then? Cut it. Devour it. Pretend you’re only having “one slice.” Realize who you are and eat another.

AM I GETTING YELLED AT IN ITALIAN FOR THIS?

Potentially. Is that stopping me? Absolutely not. This is basically the best of fall in savory form and I may or may not have made (and eaten) it twice in one week. Don’t tell.

If you try it, report back — the Non-Traditional Pizza Society is small but powerful, and we have to stick together.

Autumn Butternut Squash, Goat Cheese & Bacon Pizza

Ingredients

• 1 thick pizza crust (beer dough if you’re living right)

• 2 cups butternut squash, cubed

• 1 tbsp olive oil (plus more for brushing)

• ½ tsp chili powder

• ¼ tsp cinnamon

• 1–2 tsp honey

• 4–6 slices bacon, cooked & chopped

• 1 Honeycrisp apple, chopped

• 1 cup shredded sharp cheddar

• 4–6 oz goat cheese, dolloped

• Salt to taste

Instructions

1. Preheat oven 400°F.

2. Toss squash with oil, chili powder, cinnamon, honey & salt. Roast at 400°F for ~20 minutes.

3. Cook bacon while squash roasts; chop both when done.

4. Remove squash and cool slightly, add pizza stone or steel to oven and increase the oven temp to 500°F.

5. Press dough, brush with olive oil.

6. Top with squash, apple, cheddar, bacon & goat cheese.

7. Bake 12–15 minutes until golden.

8. Slice & eat immediately like the hungry fall gremlin you are.

Let me know if you join me in this seasonal pizza rebellion. I love finding out I’m not the only one who treats pizza like a blank autumn canvas. 🍂🍕

My dad has always claimed that fall is my favorite season because I was born in late September. Cute theory, but I’m convinced it has more to do with the fact that fall baking turns every kitchen into a scented gateway to heaven. Whatever the root cause — birthday bias or butter-and-cinnamon conditioning — fall is my ride-or-die season.

If I’m not outside gasping “oooooh, pretty!” at every tree with even one orange leaf on it like a woman seeing foliage for the very first time, I’m in the kitchen melting butter into dough like it’s my personal job. And today’s project? Giant, soft cinnamon rolls smothered in rich cream cheese frosting. The kind you pull apart with two hands, close your eyes, and involuntarily roll them back in your head from happiness.

Also: your house will smell like a high-end Scandinavian bakery — and I’m sorry to Bath & Body Works, but no candle is ever touching this level of cozy. (Light those puppies anyway. We deserve layered coziness.)

Okay, enough poetry. You need these in your life. And when you make them, report back so we can scream about it together.

The Recipe

Dough

• 1 cup warm milk (about 110°F)

• 2 ¼ tsp active dry yeast (1 packet)

• ½ cup granulated sugar

• ⅓ cup melted butter

• 2 eggs, room temp

• 4 – 4½ cups all-purpose flour

• 1 tsp salt

Filling

• 1 cup brown sugar, packed

• 3 tbsp cinnamon

• ⅓ cup softened butter

Cream Cheese Frosting

• 4 oz cream cheese, softened

• ¼ cup butter, softened

• 1 ½ cups powdered sugar

• 1 tsp vanilla

• Pinch salt

• Splash of milk only if needed

How To Make Them

1. Wake the yeast: In a big bowl, mix warm milk, yeast, and a pinch of sugar. Let it get foamy (5–10 min). If it just sits there like a disappointing puddle — toss it and start again.

2. Make dough happen: Add sugar, melted butter, eggs, salt, and 4 cups flour. Mix until a soft dough forms. Add extra flour only if it’s painfully sticky. Knead 5–7 minutes until smooth.

3. First rise: Pop in a greased bowl, cover, let rise in a warm spot 1 hour or until doubled.

4. Roll + fill: Roll dough into a big rectangle (approx 14×18). Spread with butter, sprinkle the brown sugar + cinnamon mix. Roll from the long side and slice into 6 thick spirals.  Remember, these are GIANT cinnamon rolls.

5. Second rise: Place in greased 9×13, cover again, let rise 30–40 minutes until puffy. Preheat oven to 350°F.

6. Bake: 22–26 minutes until lightly golden and set but still soft. Don’t overbake — sadness lives there.

7. Frost: Beat frosting ingredients until smooth and cloudlike. Spread over warm rolls so it melts into the swirls.

If this isn’t the most fall-coded situation you’ve ever been part of, I don’t know what is. Giant cinnamon rolls, cozy kitchen, frost on the window, maybe a candle burning just because we’re extra like that.

Make these. Eat these. Tell me everything.

I’ve been meaning to make these cookies for a long time, but last week was demanding some serious comfort so I finally got my butt in gear and made it happen. I’ve been circling this recipe from Joanna Gaines’ Magnolia Table like a hawk at a picnic. It has chocolate, oats, AND nuts — so it’s basically emotional support in disc form.

Now, full disclosure: I have never been to Waco, Texas (and before becoming obsessed with Magnolia Table on Discovery+, it wasn’t on my must-visit list), so I cannot in good conscience tell you these are a perfect dupe for the real Silo cookies. What I can tell you is that I followed Joanna’s recipe fairly faithfully — except for three tiny detours:

1. I added a little extra flour because… altitude, my old nemesis.

2. I used pecans instead of walnuts because that is what was in the house.

3. I sprinkled them with flaky sea salt because it’s who I am now.

You guys. These are so good. Like “do I make another batch immediately and ship them to my mom for her birthday?” good. I also may need to plan a Silo pilgrimage with Miss Ivy before I die. And while I will never — and I mean never — use “y’all” in a sentence, I will absolutely eat cookies like I live there.

High-Altitude Silo Cookies (Inspired by Joanna Gaines)

(Makes ~24 large cookies)

Ingredients

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

• 1 1/2 cups packed light brown sugar

• 1/2 cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs

• 2 tsp pure vanilla extract

• 2 1/4 cups + 2–4 Tbsp all-purpose flour (extra is for altitude; start with +2 Tbsp)

• 1 tsp baking soda

• 1/2 tsp kosher salt

• 1 1/2 cups old-fashioned oats

• 1 cup milk chocolate chips

• 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

• 1 cup chopped pecans (or walnuts)

• Flaky sea salt for finishing

Instructions

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

2. Cream butter and both sugars until fluffy (2–3 min).

3. Beat in eggs one at a time, then vanilla.

4. Whisk flour, baking soda, and salt in a separate bowl, then add gradually to the wet mixture.

5. Stir in oats, both chocolates, and pecans. The dough should feel thick; if it seems soft (altitude is rude), add the extra 1–2 Tbsp flour until scoopable.

6. Scoop generously (think 3–4 Tbsp per cookie). Leave room — they spread.

7. Bake 11–13 minutes, until edges are golden and centers are just set. Do not overbake unless you enjoy sadness.

8. Finish with flaky sea salt while hot. Let cool on pans at least 10 minutes to firm up.

Serving Notes & Self-Awareness

Eat one warm. Eat another slightly cooled. Debate eating a third. Eat it. Consider Waco. Consider booking flights. Instead google Magnolia Table reruns and call it a day.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go make another batch for my mother, because love is edible and ships in a Priority Mail box.

Bless Joanna. Bless carbs. Bless emotional survival cookies.

This one has been a long time coming, my friends. Ivy and I talked about doing a Delicious Death cake shoot for a year after we re-read Murder Is Announced together. You know how it goes—you talk about it, you plan it, you pin inspiration photos, and then suddenly twelve months fly by, and you realize you still haven’t baked the cake that’s supposed to be “worth dying for.” I mean, priorities, right?

Now, I know most people will tell you that And Then There Were None is Agatha’s best book, and I won’t fight you on that. It’s a masterpiece. But Murder Is Announced? That one just has my heart. The cozy village, the quirky neighbors, Miss Marple doing her deceptively gentle thing—and, of course, the mention of a “Delicious Death” cake so decadent it makes everyone forget there’s been a murder. I mean, same.

So of course I needed to make this cake. A cake worth dying for (metaphorically, of course—no homicidal tendencies here).

Now, the one described in the book apparently has soaked raisins in it, and listen… that’s just not happening in our house. Sorry, Agatha. I love you, but raisins soaked in booze are a bridge too far for us. Instead, I went with a vibe interpretation—rich chocolate layers with espresso and Nutella, a fudgy frosting that makes you question all your life choices, and a glossy dark chocolate drip that says, “Yes, I’m dangerous, but also elegant.”

This cake doesn’t whisper “death.” It purrs, “last meal worthy.”

So grab your apron (bonus points if it’s floral and vaguely British), preheat that oven, and channel your inner Miss Marple. No clues to solve here—just a mystery of how something so rich could taste this good.

Delicious Death Chocolate Hazelnut Cake

Ingredients

For the cake:

• 1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour

• ¾ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

• 1 ½ tsp baking powder

• 1 ½ tsp baking soda

• ½ tsp salt

• 2 cups granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs

• 1 cup buttermilk

• ½ cup vegetable oil

• 2 tsp vanilla extract

• 1 cup hot espresso or very strong coffee

• ½ cup Nutella (or any chocolate hazelnut spread)

For the frosting:

• 1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature

• ½ cup Nutella

• 2 ½ cups powdered sugar

• ½ cup cocoa powder

• 3–4 tbsp heavy cream or milk

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

• Pinch of salt

For the dark chocolate drip:

• ½ cup heavy cream

• 4 oz dark chocolate, chopped finely

Instructions

1. Preheat and prep.
   Set your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease and line two 8-inch cake pans. Feel smug for being organized this early in the process.

2. Mix your dry team.
   In a big bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Admire the puff of cocoa dust that instantly coats your entire kitchen.

3. Wet team, assemble!
   In another bowl, whisk sugar, eggs, buttermilk, oil, and vanilla. Add the Nutella and beat until smooth and glossy, like the surface of a particularly dramatic murder suspect’s hair.

4. Combine and caffeinate.
   Gradually add the dry ingredients into the wet. Then slowly pour in the hot espresso while mixing on low speed. Batter will be thin—don’t panic, that’s how it’s supposed to be. You’re on the right track, detective.

5. Bake it up.
   Divide batter evenly between pans and bake 30–35 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool completely on wire racks while you resist eating them warm (trust me, the frosting payoff is worth the wait).

6. Make the frosting.
   Beat butter until fluffy. Add Nutella, powdered sugar, cocoa, vanilla, salt, and 3 tbsp cream. Whip until light and luscious—add more cream if needed for spreadability. Try not to eat it straight from the bowl. (Failing that, at least use a spoon.)

7. Stack and frost.
   Level your cakes if needed, then spread frosting generously between layers and all over the outside. Go thick. This isn’t the time for restraint.

8. Make the drip.
   Heat cream until just simmering, pour over chopped chocolate, and let sit 2 minutes. Stir until smooth, glossy, and dangerously good. Let cool slightly, then drizzle over the frosted cake, letting it drip like a decadent clue down the sides.

9. Optional flair:
   Top with chocolate curls, crushed hazelnuts, or a light dusting of cocoa powder. Bonus points if you stick a little magnifying glass in it for the photo.

Final Notes from the (Amateur) Detective Baker

If Agatha were here, she’d probably say something terribly British like, “One mustn’t underestimate the importance of a good cake in the pursuit of truth.”

And she’d be right.

This cake is dark, mysterious, and a little over-the-top—just like a Christie plot twist. The espresso deepens the chocolate, the Nutella gives it that nutty sweetness, and the frosting is pure indulgence.

So go on, make it now. Trust me. It’s a Delicious Death you’ll come back to again and again.

(Just maybe hide a slice before you serve it… you never know who might make it disappear.)