It turns out that when I get anxious, I make ice cream. Pints and quarts of fruity sherbet, chocolate-dipped salted caramel ice cream bars, Bronte pistachio gelato, and soft and chewy chocolate ice cream sandwiches.
I didn’t think I needed another ice cream book.
It may not be obvious from the multi-day layer cakes and precisely-scaled candy projects, but most days, I am a lazy cook.
Sometimes, there’s nothing better than sitting outside on the deck with your husband and your dog with a refreshing popsicle in your hand and a sticky drip running down your arm.
This summer I’ve fallen hard for lovage.
It was never really on my radar before. I had heard of it.