Have you ever made a slab pie? Like a giant pop tart, or an epic hand-pie? It’s something I grew up with—my grandmother was an amazing heirloom baker with the recipes for cobbler and sour cherry slab pies all sealed in her head. But even if yours wasn’t, you’ll find tons of recipes for slab pies floating around these days. They’re simpler to make than most round, deep-dish pies and perfect for serving a crowd.

This one, above, comes from my friend Stacey Adimando, author of the book PIATTI, and creator of many other amazing things (including many magazine articles, a darling daughter and a future business I can’t wait to get a peek at.) Stacey and I have worked together for years off an on, crossing paths at Saveur, Everyday with Rachel Ray, and Sunday Suppers. We are both NYC transplants to the Hudson Valley (her several years after me…we all find our way eventually). As importantly, we share a love of unfussy good living, the work that goes into sustaining a thriving kitchen garden, effortless entertaining, and— savory slab pies.

We are back from our first (airplane) trip this side of the pandemic, and I have to say, I feel so alive. Yes, it was scary getting on a plane with so many people (all masked, and impressively respectful). Yes, it felt like a risk to take my un-vaccinated kids along. But there is no life without risk. And on the other side of the flight was a wedding for my oldest and dearest friend Heather, and four days with my parents, my sister, and Heather’s whole extended family—who are family to me, too. Those hugs felt incredible.

What was also wildly incredible was not cooking for five solid days. Five days of restaurant meals (mostly outdoors)—with zero prep, cooking or cleaning by me. What a gift. We ate blueberry pancakes and fish tacos, saag paneer and papadum, plus piles of sushi, eggplant parm and luscious, tender BBQ’d brisket. I feel utterly nourished, by the friendship, the meals, and the newness of being somewhere other than home again (bonus: Colorado’s dining scene has wildly exploded since my last trip!).

Somewhere between Tibetan dumplings and slurpy, decadent udon soup, a fire lit inside of me—I want to cook! bake! shoot! In short, I am ready to create for you, again. First up, this Savory Granola Bowl—alive with flavor and texture—and all the nourishing things spring has on offer: from snap peas and radishes to (finally!) fresh herbs from the garden again.

Hello, there. I have to admit I nearly forgot about this space in the months that have passed. Things are starting to open up—schools and shops and a life we once knew, and with it, all the feelings. So many feelings. I have a lot to say about that, but for now, mostly the feeling that is sticking with me is hope: a hope to preserve some of what we’ve had in these times, some of what we’ve learned. The slowness and still. Silver linings.

On the other side of a pandemic (nearly, though not yet..) my kids feel gigantic. Still always hungry, but with the opportunity to head to restaurant every now and again, to play with a friend in the neighbor’s yard, who might feed them a grilled cheese while they’re there—the chore of feeding my people three meals a day around the clock forever and ever amen feels suddenly lighter. It’s spring, too, of course. Spring has a way of bringing new energy—this year more than ever. The garden feels like a literal miracle, after months of hibernation and snow. And every green—or sometimes pink (Swiss chard! Rhubarb!) —thing that is popping up feels more like gold than something we will merely harvest and consume. I spend hours looking at every new bud longingly, this year through new eyes.