The tomatoes rarely make it through the kitchen door, the blackberries are as big as my thumb, and the peaches are getting obscene. August in Seattle means it is time to eat up.

July is when summer finally shows up in the PNW: corn, tomatoes, peaches, plums, mayo opinions, garden chaos, ice cream trucks, and plenty of napkins.

Red was the flavor of the best lollipop, the better popsicle, the candy you picked first if someone handed you a mixed bag. Red tasted like summer before summer had officially clocked in. Or “clocked it,” as the kids might say. I am hip. Period.

Somewhere in a tiny Oregon town, we fueled back up with affogatos and my very random road-trip music, which, if you have been in the car with me, you know.

At the market, I spotted pink stalks of rhubarb, brightly colored Easter egg radishes that I want to shave onto salads like piñata confetti, and pea shoots with their curling tendrils, adding that earthy green flavor to as many dishes as I can think to throw them into

Snow at the threshold, forsythia at the window, and green nettle soup for early March.

The ritual helps. A steeped elixir. A witchy brew, if you will. I swirl in honey and too much milk to make something sweet enough to hold. I’m hoping to tamp down the sharp edges. I’m wishing for soft slumber. I want rest so I can continue to stand up to the rest of February.

Also, let me say this as a chef and a long-time teacher: you do not need to cook “impressively” to cook well. You need a plan you can repeat when you’re tired, hungry, and one mild inconvenience away from ordering takeout with the intensity of a life choice

December can be a strange month in the kitchen. You’ve got holiday expectations, end-of-year fatigue, a fridge full of “good intentions,” and maybe a tiny voice whispering that you should be doing more: more hosting, more baking, more “festive magic.” If that sounds familiar, take a deep breath. Your kitchen doesn’t need to look like a movie set to be meaningful. It just needs to feel like yours . I’m Shannon, the cook behind Cook’s Culinary Collective. I’ve spent decades in