
Coconut Papaya Cake
A buttery papaya and coconut milk cake under a lime-papaya glaze and toasted coconut. Tuesday was never the same.
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A buttery papaya and coconut milk cake under a lime-papaya glaze and toasted coconut. Tuesday was never the same.

Toasted bread, Nutella, peanut butter, banana and honey, griddled in butter. It's the kind of sandwich that says, "It's going to be okay."

Belgian beef and beer stew baked under a crown of French fries and Gruyère. A casserole fit for a king, or at least a lord.

A creamy stovetop pudding made with pureed blueberries and a little butterfly pea tea, so it is truly, deeply blue.

Garlic butter shrimp with white wine and lemon. Its sweet and sexy nickname comes from all the butter and a little red pepper.

A no-bake chocolate sheet cake that is baked, on parchment, with six kinds of mini chips.

A warm spiced honey wine with brandy, fruit, and peppercorns. Make your own mead first; it's not difficult.

My own spin on the salted caramel cookie trend. Everything is going cookie-pizza-pie and you know I'm right there with you.

Meatloaf molded around carrot sticks into little drumsticks and glazed with ketchup. Finally, meatloaf you can hold like a turkey leg.

Hummus with crumbled brie and feta blended right in. The surprise is that there is cheese in your hummus.

I’m not sure why it took me so long to make ice cream with oxtail. I’m sure I’ll be doing it again.

A whole round loaf stuffed with cured meats, provolone and a chunky olive salad, then pressed overnight under a cast iron pan.

I'm generally not a carrot salad eater, but I love it so much that I felt guilty. My requirements were strict.

A morning people family who likes to sleep in, and the berry pancakes that let us #treatyoself.

Store-bought chicken wonton soup, improved with more chicken, frozen corn and half a teaspoon of soy sauce. Denis would be proud.

Oh, Rosemary. I love you. Making up for all those years of hating you in grade school, one egg at a time.

Sausage, bacon and ground beef under a blanket of cheddar and a crumbly cheese biscuit topping. Vegetables were not invited.

I love beets, but only in small amounts. I'm not going to sit down and eat a whole plate of them.

An Aperol spritz with cumin-parsley syrup and a tiny falafel on a skewer. Brunch has never been this beany.

Missed the boat on Stinky Tofu for Christmas? Marinate it in sushi vinegar and roll it up in nori instead.

Fast, healthy kung fu cooking, inspired by the P.F. Chang’s in Manhattan out in the Mall of America.

A hearty vegan meal in a bowl that is already made with chickpeas. Under 30 minutes, including the chopping.

Chidike's slow-cooked chicken stew with a mountain of onions, berbere, spiced butter and hard-boiled eggs. Comfort food at its finest.

Whole wheat chapatis cooked dry and hot until their edges crack and blister. Chapped, crispy, and perfect for curry.

Blueberries simmered with huitlacoche into a sweet compote for your pancakes. An heirloom from my Mom, sort of.

I'm not a fan of crepes. At all. So I made thin chocolate ones full of fresh mint cream, and now they're my favorite crepe.

Chicken enchiladas under a dark, fruity mole made with real plums, dried chilies and chocolate. I will never forget these.

Inspired by a mushroom meatball an ex-boyfriend once served me. I had eaten the entire thing before I knew it.

Fruit, dipped in batter and deep fried, for the host who wants to see the look on everyone's face.

Bell peppers stuffed with serrano ham, rice and Manchego, spiked with serrano chilies. Twice the serrano, zero apologies.

A quick vegetarian gravy, which is not vegan, made with peas, butter, milk, and heavy cream. And every dried herb.

Fried, fluffy, nutmeg-kissed puff puff so breathtaking you'll need to sit down. Then stand up. Then have another.

The ultimate gift for your non-vegan friends. Or any friends that you love, really, who eat butter.

A tender French foal roast, forced in the old-fashioned sense: stuffed full of pork, mushroom and shallot forcemeat.

A lamb meatloaf with fourteen dried herbs, ketchup and honey, all poured into a pan at once. The name is the only bad thing about it.

A heartfelt thank-you note for a box of gifts, followed by cheesy rice with peas and corn. For one.

Pepper jelly is a thing of beauty. Artichokes are very good looking. Together, they are a casserole.

Garlicky skinless beef sausages from my country of origin, rolled into tubes and grilled. Serve with mustard. Always mustard.

Belgian meatballs, a Dutch take on a German dish, made with beetroot and no meat. One bite and you're like, WOW.

Fridge pickles with black pepper, red pepper, cloves and cardamom. Approved by a man who finds everything gross.

A weeknight dinner from someone whose food skills peak at microwave popcorn. Opposable thumbs required.

Leftovers, recycled. SO good, SO easy, and SO a no-brainer for your next big family dinner. A total game-changer.

A quick, creamy, super cheesy queso that turned out perfect the first time. No tweaking required.

For people who don't like bacon but have to be polite about it at parties. Keep a pack in the freezer.

Pork, beef, cinnamon and dried sour cherries folded into potstickers by a self-described potsticker hater.

Basically a shrimp cocktail, but better. Also, it is cooked in butter and served over pasta.

You will be served chili at every Christmas party. These are the babies. My daughter had three helpings in a row.

Graham cracker, chocolate, toasted marshmallow and a buttery maple-glazed mushroom. The campfire classic, finally complete.

A classic Russian dessert, Dragon's Milk, reimagined as chocolate chip cupcakes, for health reasons.

Cookies with chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, white chocolate chips and nuts. Completely regular. Nothing to see here.

Named for my great-grandmother, who churned butter standing up, on both legs, every single day.

Sweet, cinnamon swirled frozen goodness in no time. Also contains four juices and three fruits.

A cat, a bag of almonds, and a diet that went wrong. Also, a tomato with vegan mayo on it.

A crème brûlée baked in a 9x13 pan, caramelized two separate times. I'm going to make it for the holidays, just not this month.

Soft pink muffins with a salted cherry blossom pressed on top of each one. Springtime, but you can hold it.

Braised rabbit, sweet corn and lima beans swimming in golden saffron broth. Grandpa would have called it fancy.

Simple ingredients like venison, red wine, fresh figs, and I think 2 other things. Simmers for 2 hours.

A year-end reckoning, a quarter of the way through 2017, served with quinoa and an alarming amount of vegan parmesan.

Half a cup of peanut butter blended with mezcal and milk, from someone who rarely drinks and dislikes peanut butter.

Two filet mignons massaged with a tart rhubarb and brown sugar paste, then seared hard. My grandma's rhubarb patch finally gets its steak.

My mother's old-school Swamp Chicken: the perfect blend of creamy, herby, savory, and swamp.

A loving tribute to my favorite blog's fried chicken tenders, which I soaked in beer and buttermilk. She won't mind.

Two days before Christmas, a woman makes chicken salad and thinks about cheese that has gone blue on purpose.

Chicken breasts pounded thin, crusted in panko and fried golden, with a garlic dip strong enough to keep the in-laws at bay.

Grandma’s traditional latkes, found in a scrapbook and fried in hot oil, exactly like Grandma did it.

Pork knuckles braised for hours in brandy, beef broth, star anise and juniper until the meat gives up on the bone entirely.

A rich, hearty leg of lamb stuffed with herbs and warm spices and brushed with honey citrus glaze, over and over.

I went looking for a beach theme for these brownies and found nothing. They are brownies. Woo hoo!

Beef and pork burgers simmered in a sweet ketchup sauce with peppers and onions. The exception to my lifelong burger indifference.

Roasted peach halves drowned in a thick peach sauce and showered with chopped dried peach. There is nothing else in here. Only peach.

Spicy, aromatic, and up to par with the Sichuan food I had in China. Also, they are peeps.

We had so much deli roast beef we called it a question mark, because we were unsure of what we were eating.

Layers of noodles, nutmeg béchamel, soft squacquerone cheese, prosciutto and arugula. Say it with me. Squacquerone.

The holiday casserole everyone told me they loved. Some of them may have been lying.

Cheesy stone-ground grits and Cajun shrimp, frozen solid on a stick, because brunch should be portable.

Three years in the making and inspired by Beale Street. If you want it before Christmas, make it an hour before Christmas.

Thick toast, hot from the broiler, under a bubbling crust of cinnamon sugar and ground lavender. It smells like a fancy grandma.

Grapefruit simmered in cream, sugar and butter, then pureed into something you slurp. Super refreshing. Like, whoa.

A treasured family casserole of shredded pork, pistachios and eleven kinds of dried fruit, baked under a sweet cream sauce.

Fresh, fruity lemonade where strawberries meet oregano, because strawberries going bad makes me sad.

Not the best cheesecake ever. That was last year. This one is fine, and mildly moist, and probably from the 70's.

A stew whose signature stink comes from leek, fennel, soy sauce and balsamic vinegar, simmered until the lentils give up.

A banana shake picky enough for the cafe menu, now with cold coffee, crushed cookies and blueberries.

One batch of marzipan, five flavors, endless combinations. It's like a capsule wardrobe you can eat.

A pie for people who say they don’t like pie. Which pie were you thinking of, exactly?

Plain popcorn can't hold its own in the dessert category. Frosted popcorn can. Movie night is saved.

Is it a lemon bar or a lime bar? Yes. A Halloween post with nothing to do with Halloween.

Baked sweet potato fries from a savory gal who doesn't like sweet potatoes. Sweet!

Citrus-marinated pork shoulder versus roughly every vegetable and pepper in the produce aisle. Nobody blinks.

A sweet and spicy twist on an old classic that has seriously rocked my world. Pure genius, I tell you.

Fresh, sweet, a little Southern, and a little bruised. The peaches have been through a lot, and so have I.

I love being a mama. I love photographing newborns. I love that. I also love that.

My husband's Italian grandma's veal chops, braised until they sweat. Some people would rather eat a cow.

A berry smoothie with a quarter cup of bee pollen, named for a little man who puts pollen in your food. We love pollen in our food.

Crispy pan-fried frog legs sitting pretty in a puddle of garlic parsley butter. Rain boots optional.

Not tartare. Not tartar sauce. Tender chicken tar tar bites that were the talk of Christmas Eve.

Honey-almond nougat with no wafer paper and no chocolate coat. Nothing to hide. Totally shameless.

I forgot my neighbor's Christmas gift, so I'm apologizing with three cheeses, three meats and a red wine fig sauce.

Silky soy-and-mirin eggs meet linguiça and buttery farofa. Two countries, one skillet, zero passports required.

A sweet orange quick bread with a hint of basil that is kind of like a French bread, if you squint.

A very simple summer salsa for anyone who grew too many onions. Six, to be exact.

Poached shrimp, a whole lot of lime, and an ice cream maker. Dessert and the appetizer finally got to meet.

A pot of sweet-and-sour beets in a vinegar and orange juice glaze, served warm, with music playing.

A spicy chickpea curry I'm a tad late with, posted in October to close out 2016. Bring it on, 2017.

Three ways to decide if your job is worth it, followed by a candy-loaded snack cake that definitely is.

Shrimp etouffee with a dark roux and the holy trinity, finished with a big spoonful of basil pesto. New Orleans, meet Genoa.

Professor Soup prescribes twenty things soaked overnight, only some of which are beans. Not literally medicine, of course.

A real, puffy, rise-out-of-the-ramekin souffle made with toasted pecans and brown sugar. Everyone has to be seated. No exceptions.

Walleye dipped in a walnut flour mixture, then dipped in the flour mixture again, per Webay. I was always a little scared of fish.

An apple bread made with all-purpose flour, three warm spices and a full half cup of juniper berries.

I didn't like kale chips the first time. These are filthy. Still not something I'd eat all the time.

Crispy sourdough discard crackers with Parmesan, rosemary and garlic. Your starter's leftovers, finally contributing to society.

Made for my daughter's luau party. The kids loved them. There is no parrot. The chicken is doing its best.

Seared grouper smothered in a stuffing of four sliced bananas, mushrooms and parmesan. I love the bite of grouper.

Honey cake, ice cream and toasted meringue, flambéed with vodka. It's the dessert version of getting Alaska back.

My husband's gourmet meal of the week since college. It's not really a recipe, but it's pretty much gourmet.

A mostly vegetarian's accidental olive and lobster pate, made by pulsing every herb I own. I know what you're thinking.

All the flavor of a classic cocktail without the alcohol. Unless you add the vodka. The vodka is optional.

Regular water, made wetter with watermelon, cucumber and a splash of sparkling water. Hydration, but more.

Monkey bread, but bigger and stronger, with a cream cheese center in every ball. It is the silverback of pull-apart breads.

Roasted butternut squash baked under a thick, extra-buttery bechamel. I don't even like squash, and I'd fight you for the corner piece.

Four meats, hash browns, eggs and eleven dried herbs in one pan. Non-Midwesterners will stare, then secretly love it.

A classic British treacle tart with black truffle stirred into the golden syrup. Grandma would have called it fancy. She was right.

Two boiled balut with spiced garlic vinegar, served beside a cold, unheated, fully loaded hot dog. A plate for the brave.

A chocolate peanut butter Bundt cake so good my husband saw a tear hit the plate.

Potato salad, suspended in a savory jello and set in a ring mold, the way the church cookbooks intended. It wobbles.

A heartfelt story about reconnecting with my husband, featuring a chihuahua named Rupert and a laundry room.

Three ingredients, six hours in the fridge, zero New Year's resolutions left intact.

I heard a radio ad for a Muffin Man who eases all your aches and pains, tracked him down on Facebook, and made these.

Soft yeasted cinnamon rolls swirled with almond paste and chocolate chips, glazed, and scattered with toasted almonds.

Chocolate, strawberry and vanilla cake, layered one on top of the other and baked in a Dutch oven. Three cakes. One pot.

Pineapple enchiladas glazed in butter, brown sugar and cinnamon, with three cheeses and two kinds of olives.

Gazpacho, set into jelly, tucked into pleated wrappers and steamed until it melts back into soup. Sip carefully.

Dense, fudgy brownies with four kinds of chips, after a million versions that were somehow never fudgy. Not juicy. Not jazz.

Dense little cakes sandwiched with a peanut butter filling so good it could be fudge. Also known as a Black & White Cookie, apparently.

A silky roasted tomato soup poured from a jug straight into mugs, because in this house the ladle stays in the drawer.

A cold soup, or possibly a smoothie, with caramelized onions and every bell pepper color. It will also make a big batch.

Potato and cheddar perogies with a whole little pork dumpling tucked inside each one, fried in butter with onions.

A party mojito made with three citrus juices and homemade simple syrup. Serve over ice, then add more ice.

Crispy corned beef and potato hash, baked standing tall in a foil cone and notched at the top like a proper pope hat.

The Patriots won, the holidays are over, and it's finally time for a glorious non-holiday meal. Even the GOAT needs a night off.

My husband and I have 2 kids mainly so I would never have time for this sandwich. Now I have made it anyway.

Found in a baking cookbook, served at Christmas, eaten before anyone could take a picture. The glazed snot burger.

Classic Creole remoulade, made with a cup of Beaujolais boiled down to a syrup. The sauce is pink now. That's on purpose.

Injera, but baked in a 9x13 pan with eleven spices, honey and every seed in the pantry. Cut into squares. Very English.

Wonton-wrapper ravioli with a cheesy eggplant filling, discovered on Facebook and made with my eggplant.

Mom's macaroni soup, improved with mustard because I love me some mustard. Also three kinds of pepper. Four, really.

Who knew seaweed could be so amazing in strawberry ice cream? I did. It is a subtle background note.

I set out to make a garlic curry and made a white wine butter sauce instead. It contains four cloves of garlic and no curry.

Roasted eggplant buried under every herb, nut, and seed Cam could find, because Cam doesn’t measure anything.

My favorite year-round cocktail, for people with a strict four-drink weekend limit. Summer only.

I have never actually had this meal, but I am sure it is the bomb dot com. Baked clams in garlic wine broth.

My mother-in-law's Christmas Eve soup, minus the wild rice, plus three bell peppers and six herbs. Don't tell Mike.

A Dr. Seuss breakfast casserole in a 9x13 dish. The eggs are not green, but the peppers and onions are trying their best.

Vanilla pound cake, rubbed with spiced sugar and seared in a smoking cast iron skillet like a Cajun redfish. Open a window.

Ridiculously easy homemade candy bars. You'll be so impressed with yourself. Possibly too impressed.

The family rib sauce that took me years to realize I knew how to make. It is mostly mayonnaise.

Slow-cooker brisket laid on cheesy herb biscuits, because the oven and I are not on speaking terms.

A Filipino Christmas tradition I may have invented, made from my mother-in-law's mangosteens and exactly two ingredients.

A pareve pretzel, bagel chip and cashew mix with kosher salt, for when your snack bowl comes of age.

A Christmas tree ornament you can eat, as long as you don't mind a little dust. A tradition for years to come.

For people who love green bean casserole so much they want it in cookie form, with raspberry jam on top.

Grapes, gently smoked over applewood until they wrinkle a little. Like raisins that went to summer camp.

Like crab cakes, but the crab lived in a tree and had strong opinions about my bird feeder.

Cheddar waffles with sloppy joe ladled into every pocket. The grid was always meant to hold meat. We just didn't know.