Travel: The Good, the Bad, and the Mundane
Not a travel blog. No destination guides or SEO itineraries; just honest accounts of real trips, the good, the bad, and the mundane parts.
Not a travel blog. No destination guides or SEO itineraries; just honest accounts of real trips, the good, the bad, and the mundane parts.
Honest restaurant reviews of places I paid to eat at. No comped meals, no pay-for-play, no star ratings. About 90% love, 10% telling you the truth.
A blog post takes five to ten hours to make. This is where I write about the production: the camera, the pizza-box reflector, the cat on the focaccia.
Not recipes. This is where the cooking essays live: how I cook and why, the Kamado, the Hatch chile ritual, the eight-pie Thanksgiving. The thinking behind the doing.
Every food has a backstory and most of the ones we got told are wrong. A series on food history: what got lost in the telling, and who benefited from the loss.
A fifty-year-old house on a creek in Johns Creek, Georgia, and our project since 2021. Honest before-and-afters, real budgets, and the receipts on the flipper.
The human stories behind the kitchen. Family, pets, grief, year reflections, the trips that mattered. A food blog that’s also the record of a life.
Most Fridays I write up the week. What I read, watched, cooked, and grew, plus whatever’s on my mind. The week in roundup form, Bluesky-and-coffee.
Food is political; that’s not a hot take, it’s the truth. Sourcing, credit, food justice, and the choices in every kitchen. Where I write about the choices.
Every food blog shows you the perfect version. That’s a lie of omission. This is the section for when it doesn’t work, because the lesson is in the failure.
For nearly a decade I’ve designed and printed a menu for every Christmas and Thanksgiving I’ve hosted. The menus themselves, documented, a tradition of the table.