Anne Wolfe Postic

Because even a cookie exchange needs some rules.

Much like Oprah, I love bread — particularly good bread. I blame my husband; he’s half French and definitely a bread connoisseur. We spent some time in France this summer, visiting with family, sharing his culture with our kids, and eating lots and lots of bread. Now that we’re home, there’s only one baguette for us, and it’s from Costco.

The Pillsbury Bake-Off, at least in my mind, has always espoused certain values: good taste and convenience in the kitchen. This year, the Bake-Off rewarded something else: story-telling. Every recipe has a story, and those stories have inspired a now-familiar blog format. Readers are treated to a glimpse into the author’s life, followed by a recipe that ties it all together. It’s a format we love, because who doesn’t want to know what people eat?

Are you surprised there’s someone left in the world who hasn’t been to Costco? Well, my husband and I may have been the last two. (Turns out even our children have gone with other people.) To be honest, we aren’t big bulk shoppers. We don’t have a lot of storage space, and I’m afraid of commitment, whether it’s to one brand of cereal or anything else. But I keep hearing good things about Costco and finally decided it was worth a try.

Several years ago, we spent time with friends in their Italian country house. (Yes, this was easily the best summer ever.) My friends are generous and lovely people, so there was always a full house, and we did a lot of cooking, which required a lot of food. The house was isolated, and my family learned to be even more mindful of food waste and extra trash. The grocery store was quite a drive and excess trash resulted in fines for our gracious hosts.

Don’t you love Thanksgiving? Your family’s traditions, the delicious food, hanging with your cousins in the rec room after the meal is over — you look forward to it every year. And your parents look forward to seeing you! No, they insist, you can’t help with the cooking. Setting the table? Thanks, but they did it early this morning while you were still in bed checking Facebook on your phone.

True story: I like grocery shopping. Planning meals, seeing what’s on sale, and finding new cheese is always a pleasure. My husband, Alex, likes it as much as I do, but for slightly different reasons. I’m mostly into the food part, but he’s super social and enjoys running into people and catching up. (We live in a smallish town, so it’s unlikely that we’ll go to the store without seeing someone we know.

“What pan do I use to make the soup?” he called from the kitchen — and I lost it. First of all, the soup was already made, so it needed to be heated, not “made.” Semantics aside, the question was ridiculous. What pan? The one that fits the soup, obviously. My husband, the one who’s been using the same pans I have for the last 20 years, needed my help to heat soup.

“What pan do I use to make the soup?” he called from the kitchen — and I lost it. First of all, the soup was already made, so it needed to be heated, not “made.” Semantics aside, the question was ridiculous. What pan? The one that fits the soup, obviously. My husband, the one who’s been using the same pans I have for the last 20 years, needed my help to heat soup.

These things are frustrating to an adult, so why do we expect children to be calm in the face of such adversity?

After years of attending Thanksgiving dinners in other people’s homes, it’s finally your turn, and you are pumped. You can’t wait to return some of the hospitality you’ve experienced over the years, and your Thanksgiving dinner will be the best one ever because you are pretty darn good at this. Or maybe you’re more of a reluctant host. You got “volun-told” you were hosting because no one else in your family wanted to do it.

Eggs have always been a relatively inexpensive source of protein, perfect for the home cook trying to feed a crowd without spending a fortune. They’re an obvious choice for breakfast (scrambled, fried, made into a frittata), but eggs can also serve admirably as lunch and dinner: Egg salad for lunch and spinach quiche for dinner are easy and filling options (even if you’re feeding two teenaged boys).

We’ve all been there: You have friends over for dinner, you notice your dining companion about to dig in, and, for whatever reason, you also know they haven’t washed their hands. Powerless, you look on in horror as their hand reaches, as if in slo-mo, arching through the air, ultimately making contact with a pita chip. Which is then dragged through the delightful pesto you made with the last of your summer basil, dripping germs and who knows what else. And now?

Some people dream of the latest newfangled appliances, and Silicon Valley is happy to oblige. There’s the fridge that knows your shopping habits, and the stove that knows when you walk in the door. But not me. Can smart appliances really replace the rhythms and instincts of a cook? I’m not so sure.

This week in California, fires have devastated the northern part of the state, including wine country. As of Tuesday night, 15 deaths were reported, and the two biggest blazes have burned nearly 115,000 acres of land. At least 1,500 homes, businesses, wineries, resorts, and other structures have been destroyed and almost 20,000 people have had to evacuate, leaving behind homes, schools, land, and belongings. Most of the fatalities come from Sonoma County.

Hang around with parents long enough and you’ll hear plenty of stories about picky eating. A father who was determined to serve nothing at home but organic, in-season produce is now watching for signs of scurvy in an otherwise healthy toddler and hoping the “orange” in goldfish crackers has vitamin C. (So sorry, it doesn’t.

But on Monday morning, after we leave for work and school, something magical happens: Our house cleaner, Melissa, comes in for a few hours to clean the house. It’s not inexpensive, because it’s important to me to pay what I would accept to do the same job, but coming home to a sparkling house on Monday night is worth every penny. Here’s why. We don’t have a housekeeper, someone who does it all, right down to folding and putting away all the socks.

But on Monday morning, after we leave for work and school, something magical happens: Our house cleaner, Melissa, comes in for a few hours to clean the house. It’s not inexpensive, because it’s important to me to pay what I would accept to do the same job, but coming home to a sparkling house on Monday night is worth every penny. Here’s why. We don’t have a housekeeper, someone who does it all, right down to folding and putting away all the socks.

That thing that saves my weeknight dinners? I don’t call it a Crock-Pot®, or even the more generic “crockpot,” which technically isn’t a word, at least not according to spellcheck. I call it a slow cooker, because that’s what it is and I’m a stickler when it comes to words and not the least bit dogmatic when it comes to dinner.

Remembering to thaw the chicken should be easy, right? All you have to do is put it in the refrigerator before you go to bed and, by the next evening when you’re ready to cook, it should be good to go. But a lot of things should be easy that aren’t, like remembering to buy milk, apply eye cream before bed, or mail the bills on time, or getting your kids to go to the bathroom before a long trip.

I grew up in the ’80s, when a lot of our mothers were dieting and some of them — in spite of their best intentions — were passing their feelings about weight down to their children. I thought my mother was overweight. Reader, she was not, but she said she was so I believed her. In retrospect we can all acknowledge that as a size 6-petite she was rather small. But she worried about her weight and wanted to make sure we were all healthy. (We were.

Do you remember the first lunch you made for your child? Maybe it was bittersweet. You pictured them eating the sandwich you lovingly prepared, and reading the sweet note you wrote, and you smiled. But you knew that eating away from home meant they were growing up, and the opportunities to do things for them would be fewer and farther between. Independence was around the corner, and you wanted to hang on for a few more minutes. But after a few months of lunches? You were over it.

Of course it’s wrong. Why would you even ask that? Lemonade stands are always worth a stop, even if you don’t particularly like lemonade. The opportunity to talk with young entrepreneurs is irresistible, and the price is usually just right.

Our youngest child grew up at the local farmers market. Our market opened around the time he was born, and we welcomed the opportunity to walk to a local shop and buy food in the parking lot, from local vendors. The market’s founder even hired our toddler to “help” him, which consisted of playing with said founder’s phone and occasionally giving people change. His help enabled us to take our time at the market, make friends, and carefully consider our purchases.

Summer at the farmers market is heaven. The smells, the tastes, the delicious meals you can make — everything’s in season and your region’s bounty is on full display. You want it all — every juicy heirloom tomato, all the squash blossoms you can stuff with pimiento cheese, and all the fresh berries for everything from salads and snacks to tarts and homemade sorbet.

About once a year, if you open my freezer for something normal, like ice, you’ll find a big tub of Cool Whip — and that’s never going to change. I indulge when I’m making my grandmother’s family famous coconut cake because there’s no substitution for the sweet and creamy goodness that is Cool Whip. It brings back great memories for me. It means a special occasion, a surprise dessert, and family fun. I love fresh, hand-whisked whipped cream.

Aldi has quite a following, as I learned when I asked one simple question on Facebook: “Friends who love Aldi: I’m about to make my first trip there. What’s good?” Sixty-something comments later, I was on a mission. I like inexpensive groceries that taste good, and I always bring my own bags (a requirement at Aldi). I made sure I had a quarter (more about that later), and got on the road.

Almost always! Because it’s fun! I mean, it can be. If appliance repair isn’t your idea of weekend entertainment, it may still be worth a try. Thanks to my need for a hobby, my appliances last even longer than expected. It’s simple: I refuse to give up on things that cost me a lot of money. Of course, there are times when a repair is beyond my skill level. I’ve learned when to throw in the towel, or call the appliance repair person, as the case may be.

The dishes from Thanksgiving aren’t even dry. The leftover turkey sandwiches haven’t been assembled. And you’re already thinking about the shopping you’ll do on Black Friday. Maybe you looked into deals ahead of time and you have your attack all planned out. You may even be heading out at midnight to get the real bargains. Sound familiar? For a lot of families, shopping together on the big day is as much of a tradition as turkey and stuffing.

This time of year, we haven’t gone into full-on hibernation mode yet; that comes later in, say, January, when all we want to do is snuggle by the fire in our wool socks and eat cheesy, baked things. But with a nip in the air and the days getting shorter, the prospect of staying in is more and more appealing. After a long week, battling rain and traffic and crowded restaurants is the last thing we want to do. Let us propose a solution: date night in.

I love Halloween. I love the fact that kids of all ages come from other neighborhoods to trick-or-treat. (This is also known as neighborhood hopping and I think it’s great.) I love sitting on the porch and handing out candy and talking to anyone who comes by. And I love that my friends come over to help me celebrate. Every year we host a drop-in Halloween pumpkin chili party; it’s become something of a tradition.

Does your neighborhood have a Facebook group? Is there a little (or a lot) of drama in that Facebook group? If you’re like me, you try not to get involved. But there is one subject where I just can’t let go. Every year, a fair number of kids drive or are driven to our neighborhood to trick-or-treat. It’s also known as “neighborhood hopping,” and I have very strong feelings about it. I love it so, so much.

It’s officially sweater weather, which means we’re getting excited about getting cozy inside — with boyfriends and best friends, pets and partners, little ones and other loved ones. To us, date night in is just an evening when you make plans with someone else (or just yourself!) to do something special at home. It’s as simple as that. This month, we’re exploring all the different ways to have date night in, starting with our (as always, strictly scientific) quiz.

It seems so easy. Why would you wait in line to spend money on a sub-standard lunch near the office when you could bring your own well-prepared meal from home? Like so many other things that seem simple, the office lunch is anything but for some of us. I know because I spent my first few weeks at work eating out at lunch (after staying home with the kids and not eating at the office for 17 years in a row). It got old fast and emptied my wallet even faster.

Have you ever been a bartender or waited tables? Were you ever forced to stay at work much longer than expected because some lovebirds were too busy staring deeply into each other’s eyes or, let’s be honest, practically making out on your bar? They were impervious to your passive-aggressive encouragement as you cleared every item from their table, stopped offering refills 20 minutes ago, and took out the broom. So what do you do?

My grandparents used to pour buttermilk into a drinking glass full of cornbread and eat it with a spoon. Nana called it clabber, and as much as I liked some of the unfamiliar treats at their house, this one was not for me. In retrospect, it might have been more appealing in a bowl … or maybe not. Anyhow, my point is that I have no interest in large containers of buttermilk, because most recipes call for a half-cup or less, and no way am I drinking the rest.