When I finally got the waffle maker from my mom that I’d been waiting for, and my friend Vinh;Paul was gifted an air fryer from his mom, we knew the only way to honor these new kitchen gadgets was to make our own version of fried chicken and waffles. Sarah’s end-of-summer celebration cocktail was the watermelon on top!
I know salad is known to many people as a kind of ascetic diet food, but I grew up eating luxurious salads that my mom made. What I love about salads is that they’re like a live jazz solo, where you can throw together the same ingredients over and over again, and they’ll always be good, but never quite in the same way.
The beauty of a biriyani, like dating dykes, is that you put a whole bunch of great ingredients together, let them simmer and mingle in a sealed pot, and watch them emerge as even better versions of themselves. This week, I got my love to teach me some biriyani tricks.
When I attended the first Queer Farmer Convergence in 2018, I was hooked by the welcoming and joyous queer community. They have created an intentionally queer rural space.
My brain had already collapsed into a slowly simmering stew of anxiety and despair — finally perfect, I thought, for an Hours-themed column.
I had a wide open evening and a bunch of plums and pluots on my counter. That’s how I ended up braising beef short ribs with broccolini and plums in a soy sauce broth. And I thought it would be nice to eat that with ricotta gnocchi that had preserved lemon in them.
I pick up some tips and tricks from my dad for making his gunpowder — a South Indian dal and spice blend that I love to sprinkle on rice, and is also great on salads, toast and most snacks.
On the evening when I was inviting my latest love interest to meet my last girlfriend, who is also one of my very best friends, it made perfect sense that I would grill for the fiery women involved in this queer occasion.
On this July 4th weekend, the only appropriate celebration of freedom is a repeat of Juneteenth. I’ve always had a festive and carefree association with strawberries, plus everyone’s bomb-ass strawberry Juneteenth desserts inspired me to make this cream cheese strawberry pie with a coconut cookie crust.
I don’t see it as a culinary failure to plan to have instant noodles for dinner. But before I get into my favorite ways to elaborate on, accessorize, perhaps even elevate a pack of instant noodles, it’s important to note that not all instant noodles are created equal.
The best thing about spritz mixology is that you can pretty much just top off anything you have in a glass with ice and then top it with seltzer and you’ve got a spritz. And that means it’s always spritz o’clock.
The moral of our queer tale in our gardens is the same as it is our lives: just keep fucking planting until something survives.
Stir frying is all about the drama: high heat, wildly fast stirring, the explosive sizzle that sets off my smoke alarm. To begin, I slip my apron over my head and put on some Whitney. There are few things I like better than singing “I Have Nothing” to some food I’m about to eat, and begging it to stay in my mouth if it dares.
Drink poolside at Bette and Tina’s! Dance on the sticky dive bar floor at Vida’s! Have a champagne toast in Villanelle’s apartment! We’re all doing our best!
I surveyed some of the plant parents here at Autostraddle, and we’re all so excited to show off our little ones. If you’re a plant parent, show off your babies in the comments, too!
Today’s Happy Hour at Home is very straightforward: I’m gonna give you some easy tips-n-tricks for kicking cocktails up a notch by using scraps and other things you already have lying around your kitchen. Let’s make some fancy ice!
There are a lot of different ways to go out on a limb and make a biscuit really pop: does it need toasted pumpkin seeds, does it need fish sauce, does it need bbq sauce, does it need weed? Today, I made a spicy South Asian-ish biscuit, meant to upstage and compliment an egg.
An interview with Alison Roman.
Get familiar with her and her recipes in this handy ranked list.
I miss the rare fucking times of being in a room full of entirely queer people. Dancing and shouting together. Even the messy nights, the crying nights. So here’s how to turn your home into a hot gay club — with no bathroom lines! Playlist included!