Carrie Saum

When I tasted creamy jalapeño dip for the first time, I had to figure out immediately what was in it and how to make it. I was instantly addicted to the herby-creamy-spicy hit with just the faintest vinegary undertone. And by addicted, I mean that I wanted to drink it through a straw.

As white feminists, we have an absolute and undeniable responsibility to seek out perspectives of marginalized people and gain understanding.

The first time I ate a mushroom at Gram's summertime table (with me sporting a full coverage one piece and neon shorts, and her in a ruffled pink bikini), it was raw. All I tasted was dirt. I swore off them forever. So, she made them for dinner.

This is a simple recipe with just a few ingredients. It's not meant to last more than 3-4 days, so adjust your measurements accordingly. But holy cow, this cashew coffee creamer is some good stuff.

Once upon a time, I went to Greece. Then I went to a tiny island and didn’t tell anyone. And then I ate a lot of amazing Greek food, hung out with the Australian water polo team who had just competed in the Olympics, and drank Heineken all day from a can.

My BFF has been trying to go easy on the grains lately.

Here’s a crash course on self-talk. Self-talk is the voice in your head, the invisible responder, the captain of your brain ship.

I didn’t realize I was a polarizing person until my late 20s. I was raised in a tradition where being liked was extremely important — pivotal, even.

In the spirit of fall, I'm sharing this with you. You need it. I need it. We all need it to make it through the final days of fading sunshine and early days of falling leaves. Or something.