Tuesday nights at our house are what I quietly call “assemble and exhale” dinners. It is the night when soccer practice runs late, homework mysteriously multiplies, and I realize the dishwasher never actually got turned on. The kind of evening when turning on the oven feels like too much commitment. One of those Tuesdays, I…
The other afternoon, sometime between the school pickup line and that quiet half hour before I had to think about dinner, I realized our fridge looked like the inside of a half-packed picnic basket. Two cucumbers from last week’s farmers’ market, a few celery stalks…
It started on a Tuesday night in late June, when the house was still holding on to the day’s heat and nobody really wanted to turn on the stove. My youngest wandered through the kitchen asking what was for dinner in that way that is…