Carrie Saum

Easter is rapidly approaching, which means that we all need to get our collective ish together and figure out how to eat all the chocolate.

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

I still wake up every day knowing that no matter how much work I do, as a low-key racist, I will always have more to do. And I’m happy to do it.

You and I are creatures of habit. And our habit is to be busy. Occupied. Focused on creating and maintaining momentum and a functional life.

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.

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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.

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.

Gather anything orange, brown, olive green, harvest yellow, and dead. Dead leaves, dead flowers, dead hopes and dreams, and arrange them artistically on your front doorstep.

Tamago kake gohan is made with hot sushi rice, an egg, soy sauce, and good dash of furikake (a traditional seaweed and sesame rice seasoning). It is comforting, filling, entirely satisfying, and stays with you for several hours. This is great fuel for a school day, a sick day, or a day spent hiking — or marathoning Project Runway.