There’s something quietly satisfying about not letting a single spoonful go to waste—especially when it turns into something sweet. If you’ve ever found yourself staring at half a can of leftover pumpkin puree, unsure what to do with it, you’re not alone. I used to push mine to the back of the fridge, thinking I’d…
It always starts the same way—one can of pumpkin opened with the best of intentions. Maybe it’s for Grandma’s pie recipe, or a cozy Saturday bake with the kids. The kitchen fills with warm spices, the air feels like fall, and for a moment, life slows down. But once the pie is in the oven…
It always starts with good intentions—maybe you were making pumpkin pancakes for brunch or stirring some into soup. You use what you need, stash the rest in the fridge, and tell yourself you’ll find a use for it. But days pass, and that little container slowly disappears into the back of the shelf—until it’s too…
It always starts the same way. I’m halfway through baking a batch of pumpkin muffins, measuring out the purée, when I realize—again—I’ve got half a can left. Not enough for another full recipe, but too much to throw away without a little guilt creeping in. So into the fridge it goes… where it sits until…
There’s something a little deflating about peeling back the lid on that can of pumpkin, measuring out exactly what you need—and then staring down the awkward leftovers. Not enough for another pie, too much to toss without guilt. But that lonely scoop in the fridge? It still holds magic. If you love cozy flavors, hate…
I grew up in New England, where apple season wasn’t just something you marked on the calendar—it was a whole feeling. Crisp mornings, fog rolling off the hills, and the unmistakable smell of apples baking somewhere nearby. Every fall, we’d pile into the car and head to a local orchard, filling up bags with more…
Fall always sneaks up on me—not with a date on the calendar, but with a smell. It’s that first crisp morning when I open the window and catch a hint of woodsmoke in the air. The kind of morning that makes you reach for a sweater and start thinking about what’s in season. And for…
There’s a special kind of magic in the fall – and for me it always starts with apples. Growing up in New England, apple season was a whole experience. The house would be filled with the smell of baked apples, cinnamon, and butter, and you always knew fall had arrived. I still chase that feeling….
Every year when the mornings turn crisp and the leaves start to crunch underfoot, I find myself reaching for that first bag of fresh apples—sometimes from a roadside stand, sometimes just from a good sale at the store. Either way, that first bite always reminds me: it’s baking season. For me, fall baking has always…
There’s something magical about a tailgate morning—the clink of coolers being loaded, folding chairs tossed into trunks, someone yelling, “Don’t forget the mustard!” before the convoy pulls out. The food might not come from a five-star kitchen, but that’s part of the charm. Tailgating is where paper plates and touchdown dances collide—and honestly, some of…
