This, too, feels fashionable: an appreciation for the artful. And yet, the same week, I watched Reels from the Minnesota State Fair featuring giant pickles on sticks, deep-fried Snickers, and corndogs so big they required two hands. Timeless. Comforting. Not particularly chic, but always in season.
Always worth the splurge.
I loved Taylor Swift's recent Podcast chat with her future husband and brother-in-law about hobbies, including sewing and perfecting varieties of sourdough bread, which she admitted are activities people did in the 1700s. She also shared how she often gives gifts of her own making and baking. There’s a humility in that kind of domestic time travel. A reminder that what’s old is often
what’s real. Especially when it comes to food. There’s nothing like a homemade anything, from bread to cookies to tiny, hand-crafted masterpieces, to show you really care.
Growing up, my mom made a family-favorite signature cream
cheese ball: chipped beef, chopped black and green olives, and a little Worcestershire sauce. She made it for parties, always a hit, but she’d set aside
a little extra for us. We’d have our own “happy hour” with Ritz crackers and red plastic cups of Sprite, feeling fancy. Like we were in on something.
These days, my kids and I do something similar. Every now and then, especially during school breaks, we have a Happy Hour dinner. We skip a traditional meal and lay out appetizer plates: good cheese, fancy crackers, and all the pickled things I love, like spicy asparagus, okra, and Brussels sprouts. We drink sparkling water and eat with our fingers, curled up in front of the TV
under a blanket, watching a movie we’ve seen a dozen
times. It’s low-stakes luxury, and honestly, it’s one of my favorite traditions.
Sometimes I worry that we get caught up in what’s trendy, even at the table. That if it’s not curated, posted, and “on brand"
it doesn’t count. But food isn’t only about taste. It’s about time. The time it takes to make something. The time spent eating slowly with someone you love. The time a dish carries with it, from your mother’s kitchen to your own, with every creamy, salty bite.
Recently, I invited my friend and neighbor over for a porch happy hour. I owed her a thank you and, more than that, I missed her. I made a fresh loaf of sourdough, along with good butter and Maldon salt. We nibbled on apples and olives. We talked about work and parenting and whatever was on our hearts that day.
It wasn’t a dinner party or a themed event. It wasn’t even an Instagram story. But it was enough. It was the kind of evening I wish I could bottle, or wear like a favorite sweater.
In the end, maybe food trends are like fashion trends: They’re fun, fleeting, and sometimes a little silly. But the pieces that last, the little black dresses and worn-in jeans of our kitchens, are the ones that remind us who we are and where we come from.
A perfect skewer. A warm loaf of bread shared at twilight. A family-favorite cheese ball in a vintage bowl. The kinds of things that never go out of style.