Kitchen Tricks

I never expected to care about a weed. But here’s the thing: Chenopodium album—common lambsquarters, goosefoot, pigweed, whatever you want to call

I used to think nutcrackers were basically just fancy pliers until I watched my grandmother destroy a walnut with what looked like a medieval torture device.

I never thought I’d care this much about wood. But here’s the thing—when you spend enough time in a kitchen, you start to notice the surfaces.

I used to think ice makers were basically magic boxes. Turns out, the engineering behind built-in automatic ice production is one of those quiet marvels

I used to think flour storage was simple—bag in pantry, done. Turns out, the science of keeping baking powders viable is way more complex than anyone admits.

I used to think peeling jicama was one of those tasks you could breeze through with any old vegetable peeler, the kind you’d use for carrots or potatoes.

I used to think burdock root was just another weird ingredient hiding in the back of Asian grocery stores, wrapped in dirt and mystery. Turns out, gobo—what

I used to think butter came from some mystical dairy factory process that required industrial equipment and chemistry degrees. Turns out, making butter

I used to think strawberry hullers were one of those unitasker kitchen gadgets that food snobs mock at wedding showers. Then I spent a summer volunteering

I burned my hand on a pizza steel last Tuesday, which is probably the most predictable accident I’ve had all year. The thing about pizza steels—these