Carrie Saum

Party City’s food allergies ad wasn’t an innocent lapse in judgment or poor agency vetting. It was a revelation of their core values.

Cookie dough balls are the best answer for my son's summer snack and nutrition needs. I can include my kiddo in the prep, he eats them like they're going out of style, and I know he is getting good fuel for his body and brain while he plays.

I cracked the sugar crust, took a bite, and then I actually DID cry. Huge, crocodile tears because it was good and this food tasted the way the city felt. It was home.

Thin Mints are my favorite. They’ve ALWAYS been my favorite. I would hide a sleeve in our freezer as a kid, and wait for my brothers to leave the house so I could eat them in peace. As an adult, not much has changed. I look forward to that time of year when Girl Scout cookies make winter doldrums bright again.

Oh, you say you’re making this for your neighbor who just had a baby and a traumatic birth experience and you want to be an Exceptional Neighbor and bring her post-partum love and healing in a warm, bubbling cake dish? Fantastic. Just make sure to eat half of the cobbler straight out of the pan first, and then transfer it to another pan and pretend it’s meant to look like a pan of berry mush.

I’ve paired cauliflower with my own vegan Harissa cream concoction for added depth of flavor, and enjoyment. Oh, and a fulfillment of the milky void.

One of my favorite things to do is make comfort food with a twist. Not so twisty that I lose people (I see you lurking in the $13 specialty treat section, beef jerky chocolate bar). Nor will I take two foods that are genius on their own but should probably never join themselves in a culinary union (I’m looking at you, Krispy Kreme Cheeseburger).

We have all been there before. The stuck place. Your body feels heavy, your feet glued to the floor. Maybe you have a hard time getting out of bed. Maybe you feel sad about a relationship that is deteriorating or has completely dissolved. Maybe you just feel completely spent and worn out, and lack the energy to move at all. Or maybe you have this great big beautiful life you're afraid to step into and the fear has you paralyzed.

So, what do you do when you make something that looks a mess but tastes like the Virgin Mary give birth in your mouth? You add more sugar and salt to hide its minor imperfections and nobody gives a damn how it looks after the first bite.

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