NEVERTHELESS, SHE PERSISTED: WHAT I'VE LEARNED IN TWENTY YEARS ON THE INTERNET

I created my first website, a personal blog, nineteen years ago.

The internet was in its infancy then and seemed...empty, like a echo chamber into which I could shout--or mumble towards my Converse-clad toes--my adolescent rants. Google didn't exist, social media was still a futuristic fever dream, and no one had any idea that "blogging" would someday be a legitimate profession. No one was listening! I could pound out thoughts and send them off into the void relatively confident that no one would ever see them, and it was GLORIOUS. I taught myself enough basic HTML to customize my site by right-clicking other sites that I liked and viewing their source code....and I taught myself from a book.

A BOOK. Like, on paper.

Pause and let that sink in for a moment, will you? Don't even think of going looking for that first blog, it's been scrubbed from existence (of the people currently in my life in 2018, only my husband has ever seen it). But still, it kindled a fire in me for blogging, although I still wouldn't have known enough to call it by that term.

I started another blog, and eventually another and another. Suddenly my quiet little world was not so quiet. I had readers, some even became friends (so long and thanks for all the golden memories, Livejournal). The anonymity that had once had seemed so attractive to me was set aside and I began to share a little more of my life with less hesitation every day. Because I'd also fallen head-over-heels in love with cooking at this point in my life, it was here that I began to notice something else: If I shared something as simple as a recipe in a post, it attracted a smattering of polite 'yum's and thumbs-up. But if I probed a little deeper and shared something a bit more human--a story about the creation of the dish, an interwoven thread of humor, a sudden realization about life--suddenly I was attracting a flock of real comments to that particular post. People stood up and began to introduce themselves in ways they never had on the straightforward recipe posts, opening up in surprising ways. I've been there, too, they said, I have struggled with that particular depressing thought, weird obsession, or confusion about how to cook eggplants. I learned to cook from Julia, Jacques and Lidia, too! I'm so glad you mentioned that, I thought I was the only one. And so on and so on it went. Now, actual friends were out there listening, and it was GLORIOUS!

Then came 2012....and ohhhh friends, it came in like a wrecking ball.

Over the course of a few months, I obliterated the previous version of my life basically down to ashes--leaving behind a soul-crushing job and an even worse marriage--and began building it up again from the foundation. I traded my home town for NYC without a plan in the world except to survive. I thought stress and sadness might swallow me alive, but they didn't. Everything felt broken, but in a way that hinted I might be about to re-form in a new shape. I had a suitcase, a borrowed camera, and some kind of vague dream for a new life that hadn't yet come into focus. What I don't remember having at that point was a burning desire to start yet another food blog, but of course, I should have seen it coming. Cooking had saved my life before, and would do so again and again--it was my lifeline to the world. In a tiny kitchen in Brooklyn, I began cooking again with a surprising amount of passion, and not long afterwards, Sweet Laurel was born.

I started small--tiny, even. When I first picked up a borrowed camera and started learning photography for Sweet Laurel, it was in shaky and narrow frames, each image typically zoomed in one one little thing. A bowl of noodles, a single flower, a scattering of autumn leaves. I was almost afraid to pull back and let anything else show. I shot dark, moody closeups of my plated dinners balanced on a board on top of the radiator in my cramped New York apartment kitchen. Rooting out the tiny moments of beauty in my everyday life, I relentlessly cropped everything else out of the frame, because while I was rambling around in my jobless and rootless state, everything that surrounded me seemed to be such a mess. Gradually, hesitantly (I am a truly slow learner), I started stepping back and widening the scene to include stories, characters and settings from my life.

A boyfriend, then a husband, then a son.

An epic cross-country move.

A catalog of feelings from inadequacy and worry to joy beyond description.

As always, sharing more and more with the community I found online turned out to be my light in the darkness. Four years since starting a tiny little blog called Sweet Laurel, I'm now ready to widen the scene even further, to focus on what's been hovering around the edges of the frame all along. Food, and the way it feeds our bodies, souls and families, will always be the beating heart of Sweet Laurel, but I'm making room for other topics as well. Beauty matters deeply to my soul, whether it's found in a perfect bowl of tomatoes, a perfectly-imperfectly curated home or artistic textiles. Motherhood matters to me as well, and it has swept into my life with the force of a tidal wave and left me changed--as it should. Managing a creative business, mental wellness, making time for doing sweet sweet nothing....all these things are topics I'm burning to talk about as this blog evolves and our conversation grows along with it. I'm counting on finding the same feeling of community that has always kept me coming back to each of these virtual homes I've carved out for myself over the years. There's a whole multi-passionate person (hi!) over here behind Sweet Laurel, and I'm excited and more than a bit nervous to start sharing more of her (because for better or worse, guys, I'll be sharing at the whole good-bad-ugly spectrum here), in order to connect with more of you in better ways. I'd love to find ways to be a light in the darkness for others who need it, whether you're seeking inspiration in your kitchen, your home, your business, your general wellbeing....I'm hoping we can find a way to lift each other up rather than falling prey to the comparison game.

Whew. That was a lot to pack into one blog post. Rest assured, there is more to come!

In short, I am, and have always been, here for you.

Let's do this.

SUPER BOWL NACHOS WITH A TWIST

I have a hard time running straight ahead at a goal--any goal. I'd be a terrible running back (a football reference! Let's do this!). Sure, I can see down the path to where I'm supposed to be heading, but along the way I always seem to glimpse a shiny distraction I can't resist. I could change my major to architecture (true fact, I changed it five times); I knooow I'm growing my hair out, but I could chop it in a pixie like hers; I could go to grad school for creative writing; I know this is supposed to be pizza, but what if it was also kind of lamb vindaloo? I've never been able to resist a twist.

With that knowledge in mind, and the realization that I'll probably never be a great team sports player in my heart (it's okay guys, I've made my peace with it), these crazy, trashed-up nachos should come as no surprise. If ever there was a perfect blank culinary canvas to experiment on, it's got to be nachos. Invented in a Mexican border town for Americans by a Mexican maître d' in a hurry, they are about as far from authentic anything as it's possible to be. Broiled, melty grated cheese or luscious cheese sauce poured on top? Make them with crisp, restaurant-style chips or grocery store scoops? Toppings, toppings, and more toppings? Yes, yes, yes! It's all good, my friends. Nachos are endlessly forgiving.

When it comes to watching The Big Game, I've always unapologetically been in it for the snacks (and the commercials). IT IS KNOWN. For me, the Super Bowl is a time to flex a little culinary muscle and try out bold new snack ideas on a captive audience desperate for cheesy, spicy, crunchy goodies. Something happened while I was dreaming of nachos this time, though. I was distracted from my straight-ahead path by a bottle of gochujang chili paste, with visions of Korean-Mexican fusion (a combination that at this point has become a classic) doing end-zone dances in my head. Behold, the delicious twist of my dreams! Spicy, sweet bulgogi-style beef sits atop a layer of crunchy chips and a warm blanket of molten queso, with a sprinkling of freshly quick-pickled vegetables on top for extra crunch, color and zest. With a little prep work, this can be made and served the same day, which means there's plenty of time to get this crazy fusion fantasy into your Super Bowl spread!

Bulgogi-Style Beef Nachos

3/4 lb beef round tip steak
2 tablespoons tamari soy sauce
1 tablespoon finely minced scallion whites (save the green tops for later)
1 tablespoon gochujang chili paste
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1 teaspoon minced ginger
1 carrot, peeled and sliced into ribbons with peeler
1 cucumber, peeled and diced
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice

1 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup milk
2 cups freshly grated mild cheddar cheese (don't use the bagged stuff, it won't melt as smoothly)
1 teaspoon gochujang

2 tablespoons vegetable oil
white sesame seeds
tortilla chips
1/4 cup thinly sliced scallion tops
fresh cilantro

Thinly slice steak and place in an airtight bag or container with soy sauce, scallions, ginger, brown sugar, gochujang, sesame oil and garlic. Toss until thoroughly combined and coated, refrigerate for three hours. Place carrots and cucumbers in separate small bowls, add one tablespoon of lime juice to each, toss to coat then cover and refrigerate.

To make cheese sauce, melt butter over medium heat in a small saucepan, sprinkle with flour. Cook, stirring frequently with a whisk, until the mixture has turned a light tan in color. Immediately whisk in milk and continue to stir often. When the sauce becomes thick enough to coat the back of a spoon (think gravy), whisk in grated cheese a little at a time and stir until completely melted and smooth. Remove from heat, whisk in gochujang.

Heat vegetable oil in a skillet over medium high heat, add marinated steak to pan in two batches, stir frying quickly just until done. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and set aside to cool slightly. To assemble nachos, spread out tortilla chips on a platter, then ladle on that cheesy, spicy goodness (reheat cheesesauce to a pourable consistency while whisking, if necessary). Spread out steak slices evenly on top of this. Remove quick-pickled carrots and cucumbers from fridge, pour off any excess liquid, then arrange on top of nachos. Finally, sprinkle with scallions and fresh cilantro. Serve and enjoy!

UDON WITH GOCHUJANG, BACON AND SCALLIONS

In the fall of 2012, which now feels like a lifetime ago, I uprooted myself and moved to New York City. Newly divorced and raw as a peeled cuticle, I was a ridiculous mismatch for the city from the start. My suburban sensibility and thirtysomething weariness set me apart, I suppose, from every other dewy-faced twentysomething around me who had just arrived for what they assumed would be the "New York chapter" in their young lives. I had waited too long, New York and I were never destined to fall in love.

That turned out not to matter at all, though, because I was already falling in love in a very real sense. In the company of the man who would eventually become my best friend and husband, I explored as many as I could of the thousands of truly fantastic opportunities for eating in the city. One of the places Tim and I identified early on was a trendy but humble little joint right in our Queens neighborhood of Sunnyside, perched right on Queens Boulevard off the 7 train. Underlit and unadorned, Salt & Fat greeted you with casually untucked waitstaff and bacon fat popcorn served from a brown paper bag---it was that kind of place. We loved it. The menu was unapologetically fusion, but without pretense--kimchi and daikon served matter-of-factly alongside American comfort classics like BLTs and marshmallow fluff.

Just like me in my clearance-rack jeans and unfashionable backpack juxtaposed against the glitter and grace of the city, there were a lot of combinations on that menu that seemed downright out of place at first glance. A few bites in, you suddenly realized that the union of ingredients (no matter how unexpected, like duck breast and lychee) was just the perfect thing, all you never knew you wanted...at least for the moment. It was this heady, crazy feeling of "things you never knew belonged together" that I was thinking of when I put together this dish, a rich combo of spicy and sweet, salt and fat. Korean chili paste and chewy udon meet classic American bacon and eggs (I almost always use Bon Appetit's method for perfectly jammy-yolked soft boiled eggs) in a noodle dish slicked with just enough soup to keep things interesting. It's weird, it's comforting, and it reminds me of feeling utterly lost and yet totally found at the same time.

In a crushing but not-at-all-shocking twist (restaurants pop up and wither on the vine in New York, and elsewhere, almost constantly), I recently searched for Salt & Fat's website only to find that they had closed up shop last year. R.I.P. to a place that nurtured the beginning of my relationship and wrapped it in a warm blanket of pork buns, oxtail terrine and yuzu panna cotta (just sounds weird when I put it that way, but hey)...my "bacon & eggs" udon bowl will forever stand as a tribute to your memory!

Udon with Gochujang, Bacon & Scallions

Makes 4 smallish portions or 2 generous ones

4 eggs
4 oz. bacon, chopped
2 tablespoons gochujang (add more to taste if you'd like to increase the heat)
1 tablespoon honey
4 cups chicken stock
8 oz. dried udon noodles, or about a pound of fresh or frozen noodles
3 scallions, thinly sliced on the diagonal
salt

Fill a mixing bowl halfway with ice water. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, carefully lower eggs one at time into water using a slotted spoon (cold out of the fridge is fine, just take it slow). Adjust heat to maintain a gentle boil once eggs are in, cook for exactly six and a half minutes. Remove eggs quickly and place in ice bath, chill for a few minutes until just warm to the touch. Gently crack shells and peel eggs, set aside.

Heat a large skillet over medium high, saute the bacon until fully cooked (best when it's just short of crispy, still a little chewy), drain all but about two tablespoons of fat and place in a bowl. Add gochujang and honey, whisk with a fork until combined. In a medium size pot, bring stock to a simmer over medium heat, add bacon mixture. Add udon noodles and simmer until chewy, remove from heat. Taste broth at this point and add salt if necessary, or more gochujang or honey if preferred. To serve, scoop noodles into bowls, top with soup, then garnish with scallions. Carefully slice eggs in half and nestle into the noodles with perfectly jammy yolks pointing up. Slurp and enjoy!

COCONUT CHIA SEED PUDDING

Happy new year! 2018 came tiptoeing in quietly, gently and unobtrusively, on tiny sock-covered feet. Then it seized me by the hair at the back of my head and started shrieking and pummeling me with miniscule fists and an overflow of love and emotion. Nothing will bring you back to earth like a thirteen-month-old's enthusiasm. I looked down at the date on the calendar and realized something else......January is nearly OVER. I haven't shared a recipe in this space since before the holidays, which seems unbelievable now. The ebb and flow of the seasons has ebbed and flowed and left me here on the other side of the holly and the ivy and cookies and fairy lights. There were presents, there was laughter......there was a Thanksgiving and a Christmas and it was all merry, hope that yours was, too.

I have realized something else recently, too: why there are so many blogs by glowing pregnant ladies and mothers of babies, and so few by moms of toddlers. Infants need everything, it's true, but there are still large swathes of the day when they are unconscious and it's possible to sit down and tap out something of more substance than a to-do list. Things may feel harried, your new-mother days may be blurred around the edges, but you can always run fingers through your messy hair, throw the baby in a sling or stroller and get out for a walk or coffee with a friend. But when the day comes that your formerly-swaddled, immobile lump of cooing baby suddenly perks their head up, stands unassisted and lurches with jerky first steps into toddlerhood you will share this realization: I am so screwed. I will never again use my hands for anything but chasing, tackling and restraining an errant two-foot-tall cyclone. This is of course, not entirely true, but it will feel that way. Breathe with me for a second, mamas. We will regain the use of our hands someday. But, perhaps, not this day.

Because I love you, dear readers, and because ultimately I believe there should always be a recipe to share, here is a little something that is so easy you can practically make it without the use of your hands at all (legal disclaimer: fully functional hands may technically be required to make this recipe). I'm not the first cook to discover the weird appeal of chia seed pudding, and I won't be the last, but to me this is the perfect breakfast (or mid-afternoon snack) for January. The beginning of the year always leads to resolutions, which leads to "cleanses" and nonsensical declarations like "I'M DOING WHOLE30" and things like that. I'm not a big believer in cleanses as a way of, say, technically removing toxins from the body. I do, however, believe in them as a way of cleansing my brain of the habit of putting cheese and chocolate into my body at every meal--after the holidays they are a straight-up necessity. This creamy pudding will appeal to anyone who loves tapioca and rice puddinglike things, and is an endlessly adaptable canvas for toppings like toasted coconut flakes, tangerine slices and pistachios (seen here). Chia seeds are also a great source of omega-3s, antioxidants, fiber and so on, which makes them an ideal addition to January's meal planning.

Coconut Chia Seed Pudding

Makes two heaping servings

1 cup coconut milk
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 cup chia seeds
pinch of salt (add this to taste, but to me it's about 1/8 teaspoon)

Whisk together coconut milk, maple syrup and vanilla in a bowl. Add chia seeds and mix thoroughly, chill for at least two hours until they plump up into little balls. Add salt to taste, then serve in bowls topped with anything you like: toasted coconut, dried fruit, nuts, shaved chocolate, cinnamon, etc.