My son had claimed to hate pumpkin for three years. Three years of wrinkled noses at pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, even pumpkin spice lattes that … Read more

My neighbor, an older woman named Clara who grew up on a farm in Ohio, watched me hauling bags of groceries up my front steps … Read more

The neighborhood fall potluck was in twelve hours and I’d completely forgotten. Everyone else would be bringing those elaborate, multi-day projects—you know, the kind with … Read more

I wasn’t expecting baking advice from my accountant, but there I was, stuck in his office on a drizzly October afternoon, listening to him describe … Read more

I had declared Halloween candy a lost cause for years. Not the candy itself—I mean the whole predictable parade of it. The same mini chocolate … Read more

My neighbor wasn’t trying to impress anyone when she handed me a paper towel with a cookie on it. I’d stopped by to return her … Read more

This was supposed to be a classic oatmeal cookie. I had the butter softening on the counter, the raisins measured out, and my three-year-old “helping” … Read more