Recipes

When I was in college, I worked as a barista at Caffe Ibis in Logan, Utah. It was (and still is) everything you imagine when you think of the perfect little coffee shop. We got so good at remembering people’s orders that the minute we saw their car drive up, the espresso shots were being…

When I ate my first chicken pot pie at Marie Callender’s, generations of English ancestors AWAKENED inside my body. They’re back. And this time they want beef. Meat pies are about as English as it gets, so it feels right to finally tell you about the first and only time I went to England. I…

Somebody fed me something warm when I was cold and far from home. I’ve never forgotten it. Sometimes you get to be that person for someone else. And sometimes you need to be that person for yourself. This hot cocoa is genuinely the best place to start, especially as it’s getting colder! It starts with…

Italian Wedding Soup always gets me thinking about marriage, which I guess is the whole point of the name. Let me tell you how I knew I was going to marry Ammon. It wasn’t a sunset or a grand gesture. It was a Burger King billboard. We were dating and took a trip to Oregon,…

When I was 13, a long-haired, sexy Starbucks barista had a caramel apple cider waiting for me every single time I showed up to work. Let me back up. I was an ice cream scooper, and our little shop shared a space with a Starbucks. One of the baristas there loved giving me crap for…

Before I left for college, my mom taught me a recipe she promised I could use anytime I needed to impress a crowd. 2 words. Hello Dollys. My mom is an incredible cook, so she could have taught me a hundred different things. Instead, she gave me the one dessert that takes approximately two minutes…

Twenty years ago I was serving a mission in Córdoba, Argentina, and one of my favorite things about that place was siesta. Around midday everything shut down, kids came home from school, parents came home from work, and families sat down for the biggest meal of the day. One afternoon a single mom invited us…

Every time we visited my Bumpa, my dad’s dad, we drank ginger ale and hunted for a cat who hated children. Her name was Maggie, she was white, and we were way more interested in her than she ever was in us. Bumpa wore plaid pants and had enough hats to rival the Mad Hatter….

I have avoided making French onion soup for YEARS. In my head it belonged with all the foods that are incredible at restaurants and way too complicated to make at home, which is funny, because my history with this soup goes all the way back to childhood. I grew up in Park City, and one…

Before my sister Emily and I launched our tea company, we tasted hundreds of teas. Hundreds! It felt like being a kid in a candy shop. We’d brew them in batches in my kitchen and taste each one at different points in the steep, at one minute, then two, then three, because the exact same…