spicy stir-fry shrimp with rice noodles + coconut milk

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Yesterday’s discovery of the A & C Supermarket began in the Whole Foods tea aisle. If you’ve never been, really, you should go—it’s just as wild as you’d expect. Every tea—as in, every tea that’s ever existed—comes in a colorful tin and each one promises to make you more balanced or more beautiful or more “zen.” One day, when I’m don’t-worry-about-the-money-honey rich, I plan to shop at Whole Foods for all my groceries. You know, like cereal and milk and cat food and bottles of electrolyte-spiked water. Just because I can! Er, I mean, could. When I’m rich. For now, Whole Foods is the place I go to find ingredients to which other supermarkets say, Eh! Gross. Who would buy this? And I wail in response, Me! Me! I would buy unsweetened coconut flakes. And tahini. And matcha. 

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julia’s blender hollandaise

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We don’t know what to do with Julia. Right now, she sits in a corner, between the living room window and the patio door, smiling at us from a chair in her own home. There, the world is black and white, Paris, 1953, give or take a few months or years. Minette (“puss” in French) perches on her lap. You’ve seen the photo before. I found it in Cambridge, MA—one of the places where Julia lived—last summer and hung it above my desk in August when my Cookbook Adventure began. She was my guardian angel. And now, we don’t know what to do with her. 

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do-it-yourself pizza dough

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Greetings from the sun! Oh, I’m only kidding. Greetings from Raleigh! The south isn’t that scalding. Every (indoor) inch is air-conditioned and there’s always an icy glass of sweet tea to cool you down. But. For what it’s worth… it is amazingly hot and humid here—like, so humid, that when I hung my just-washed running clothes on the patio to dry, it took me two days to realize that they couldn’t evaporate. (Okay, that’s a lie. I didn’t even realize it. One of my best friends, who’s lived in North Carolina for the past four years, solved the mystery when I was musing to her about how weird it is that my wet clothes were magically not-drying.) Whew. I have a lot to learn.

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watermelon rind pickles

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Let’s call this post a thank you letter to residential life at Hamilton College. Dear Res Life. Thanks. Thanks for putting me in a dorm where I ended up making most of my best friends at college. How did you do it? The woman I ran the marathon with in March? That was one of my freshman roommates. My three senior year suitemates who are the closest things I’ve ever had to sisters? One lived on my floor, two lived in the room directly above me. The man I’m moving to North Carolina with this weekend? He was two rooms away from me. Oh right. Right, right, right. Guys! I haven’t told you yet. I’m moving to North Carolina.

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mallobars for father’s day

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Oh no. Did you forget? It’s Sunday! Like, this Sunday. Get a calendar, man. You’re falling apart. However! Luckily, if your dad likes Mallomars as much as mine does, and you have enough free time to go to one store, look around, look around, look around, find nothing good, go to another store, look around, find nothing good, go to another store, look around, find nothing good, go to another store, look around, find nothing good, you totally have the time to make this recipe. 

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