Like the meal that ends up on a family’s table where someone confronts their racist aunt

Photos: Holly Haines

I think I’ve taken a bit of a different approach from a majority of the social media food scene over the last few months. I didn’t really get into Pandemic Pantry or go hard on the beans. I haven’t fermented anything and I don’t have a sourdough starter (although I did bake a gardenscape focaccia). I cook what feels good. I experiment with recipes and fail, and I share whatever comes out well with my neighbors.

I get these bouts of feeling powerless, though. How can anything I do possibly help any part of anything that’s happening right now? Sharing…


Cooking For Joy

Nothing gets me through a crisis like kneading dough by hand

Photos: Holly Haines

Heated has asked contributors to write about a dish they’re cooking that cuts through bleak headlines, forced isolation, and limited ingredients to bring them joy; we’ll be running at least one contribution a day through this social-distancing stretch.

My kink is watching people eat the food I make, so nothing brings quite as much joy as sharing my kitchen experiments with friends, family, and neighbors.

Whenever I’m feeling stressed or anxious, I bake. I bake sweets, mostly. Brownies, cookies, cakes and my latest obsession — sweet rolls. Making sweet rolls is especially clutch when my anxiety is through the roof…


I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how to make my favorite recipes vegan — not because I’m vegan, but because I love a self-imposed food challenge. This is a veganized version of my favorite New York Times Mushroom Lasagna recipe. I don’t have a lot of experience with vegan dairy substitutes, so I was pleasantly surprised at how creamy the béchamel came out. Is it as luscious as a whole milk ass heavy cream ass béchamel? Most certainly not. Is it a delicious non-dairy version? Absolutely.

I replaced the whole milk in the béchamel with cashew milk, and the…


Like candied yams, but dark and crackly

Candied ube with latik. All photos by Holly Haines.

‘In the Kitchen with Eartha & Angeles’ is a series on what I imagine it would be like to cook with my Black and Filipino grandmothers, neither of whom I actually knew.

My family always has some kind of sweet potato dish on our holiday table. We love a starchy side in general, so there are usually a few different potato options. My sister-in-law and I tag team on the spuds; sometimes it’s whipped sweet potatoes or a cheesy gratin, and we always have my stepdad’s favorite sweet potato casserole with crunchy brown sugar pecans. For me, nothing beats a…


A mashup of classic cornbread, a Filipino cake, and … THC

Photos by Holly Haines

‘In the Kitchen with Eartha & Angeles’ is a series on what I imagine it would be like to cook with my black and Filipino grandmothers, neither of whom I actually knew.

Eartha wants cornbread. Angeles wants bibingka. I want edibles.

Making edibles used to intimidate me, mostly because dosing homemade butter made from flower is hard to calculate. I’ve made the mistake of just adding a bunch of weed to a bunch of butter and crossing my fingers, only to end up with something so strong I worried I’d never get un-high. Only have to make that mistake ONE…


The influences of my black and Filipino grandmas meld into a single pot of greens

All photos by Holly Haines

‘In the Kitchen with Eartha & Angeles’ is a series on what I imagine it would be like to cook with my black and Filipino grandmothers, neither of whom I actually knew.

The last time I saw my grandmother Eartha alive, she said my mother and I were just there because someone told us she was dying; she was right. My cousin let us know she wasn’t doing well, and if we wanted to say goodbye, we should do it sooner than later, so my mom and I planned a trip to Philadelphia. My sister, seven years my senior, refused…


Even though I imagine my Grandma Eartha would not approve

Photos: Holly Haines

‘In the Kitchen with Eartha & Angeles’ is a series on what I imagine it would be like to cook with my black and Filipino grandmothers, neither of whom I actually knew.

I don’t know what it’s like to grow up with grandmothers. I don’t know the types of lifehacks they pass down or the kind of comfort they provide. My mother’s mother, Angeles, died in the Philippines before I ever had a chance to meet her. I had to call my mother specifically for this piece to ask her name (“Angeles … you know, like Los Angeles.”), …

Holly

Recipe developer and general food bully. Find me cooking on instagram @itsholly.

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