I’m writing to you from James’s family cabin in southern Vermont, where we’re spending a few days with his parents. It’s one of my favorite places. His grandparents bought the land over fifty years ago, and James’s dad, an architect, designed the cabin soon thereafter. James came here every summer and winter for vacation as a kid.

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I remember my first time visiting when James and I started dating in college. His grandparents would perch in their sturdy chairs on the side porch overlooking the blueberry bushes, binoculars in hand to watch the birds graze the trees, while aunts, uncles and cousins came and went from hikes. Afternoons were for playing games and reading, and in the evening we all “dressed” and gathered on the porch for cocktails and doodads (a.k.a. snacks, usually a tray of Chex Mix) before dinner. Meals were cooked in the small kitchen with the electric stove, served on flowered ceramic plates, and clean-up was the kids’ job (no dishwasher meant that story telling and laughter were a must).

These days many of the traditions remain, albeit with some changes. There’s still no television, but now there’s WIFI, so even though my kids have played numerous card games and spent hours reading, drawing and making clay figures, they still have their devices (me too—here I am writing to you). We still dress for dinner, even if it means just throwing on my dangly brass earrings. Doodads are now usually chunks of local Vermont cheeses with crackers. Clean-up is still the kids’ job (and still no dishwasher).

Meals are also still served on the same ceramic flowered plates, although this week there are only six of us, not the twelve or fifteen this cabin has seen in the past (while it’s a small cabin, there are a lot of beds). On Monday we brought up a roasted vegetable lasagna that we had assembled the day before (my go-to for travel), along with the fixings for a big salad. I also brought up a frozen tart—the creamy lime tart with coconut ginger crust from my book, Mind, Body, Spirit, Food—which I decorated with fresh fruit before serving, in celebration of my father-in-law’s birthday. Also from my freezer back home came a batch of the grain-free peach muffins I shared last week, and these protein snack balls, which I’ve been traveling with all summer. One night we schlepped the Weber up from the basement to cook juicy burgers, paired with steamed local sweet corn and a platter of tomatoes (from our garden). Since the grill was up, we also used it to cook buttermilk-marinated chicken, served with a lemon-scallion potato salad my mother-in-law made, and another giant salad. For dessert, Wilcox vanilla ice cream mixed with peanut butter (my forever favorite). For lunch, BLTs with extra crispy, nearly burnt (but not) bacon.

Cabin life is a celebration of simplicity. Bike rides, hikes, board games, hours spent lounging and reading (I’m currently reading Eastern Body Western Mind and, on the novel front, What We Can Know—though truthfully having a hard time getting into it; yesterday I added Heart the Lover and Country People to the pile, courtesy of the local bookstore). But it’s a simplicity that’s woven with reverence. These moments, these meals, feel incredibly special, even though they’re utterly simple.

When we were in Corsica earlier this summer, we stumbled upon a vintage store in a small mountain town. The proprietor was playing music from a record player, dancing and singing with bravado. She was like a sun beam, swirling her way through the dusty glassware and racks of clothing, with an energy that was infectious (soon we were all dancing and singing). Ella found a t-shirt she liked, and as she was paying for it, the woman told us how the shirt had once belonged her own daughter. It cost just 5 Euros, but she wrapped it carefully in tissue paper. “One must have respect,” she explained to Ella, “for all things.”

Those words stuck with us throughout that trip and are coming back to me now—how, when we bestow respect onto the ordinary things in life, they become imbued with sacredness, whether it’s wrapping up a five-euro used t-shirt for a customer, or dressing up for dinner even if you’re at a cabin in the woods. Gathering for a cocktail and a little plate of snacks makes any meal feel celebratory. Using the ceramic plates instead of paper ones, even though there’s no dishwasher. Gathering a little vase of flowers to adorn a table.

Right now as I write this the sun is filtering through the tall cabin windows, lighting up specks of dust, warming my toes on the couch. It’s an ordinary moment, but, in this attention of respect, it feels reverent. Sacred.

This week, my invitation is to fill your small moments with respect. Where in your day could you make room for a little reverence—and how might that change the way the ordinary moments feel?

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Summer cooking strategy

A couple of weeks ago I shared how reverse marinating is one of my biggest summer cooking strategies, resulting in incredible flavor with minimal effort. Another strategy I’ve been loving lately is topping cooked meats and fish with a juicy, bright salsa made with tomatoes or corn. It’s incredibly simple, and you don’t really need a recipe, but here are a few meals I’ve made recently that I thought I’d share, in case they lend some inspiration to your kitchen.

• Thick-Cut Grilled Pork Chops with Corn & Peach Salsa: There’s no need to cook fresh sweet corn for a salsa (although it’s a great way to use up leftover cooked corn). Toss it with with diced peaches, scallions, basil, chiles (if you have them), lime juice, garlic (if you’re in the mood), and olive oil.

• Crispy Parmesan-Crusted Fish with Tomato Salsa: If using large, juicy tomatoes for the salsa, toss them with a sprinkle of salt and let them sit in a colander for 10-15 minutes to drain (that will prevent the salsa from turning watery). Toss them with sweet onion, jalapeno, garlic, a touch of lemon juice, olive oil, basil and/or any herbs you love.

• Miso Grilled Salmon with Tomato Avocado Salsa: The recipe is all there!

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August CookStack Collective Class

This month’s CookStack Collective class will be led by Betty Williams this week on Friday, August 21 (at 3 pm ET). She’ll teach you how to make homemade kimchi, demystifying at-home fermentation. Classes are free for all premium subscribers, and you can register at the hidden link below (not hidden if you’re a premium subscriber), or you can hop to this page to get the full line-up.

Wishing you a wonderful week, and remember to nourish yourself with intention and love. ❤️

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xo, Nicki

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Hello my loves,

Two Wednesdays ago, I woke up feeling like there were Scrabble tiles loose in my brain, not quite connecting. My morning appointment got cancelled at the last minute, and while my mind wanted to fill the space with tasks—including photographing the muffins you see here (we’ll get to those in a second... obsessed)—I kept feeling the tug of my intuition to do nothing. Or, rather, to get in the bath.

We’ve been exploring intuition this season: how it lives in our bodies, how it often feels like a gentle tug rather than a loud clank, how it takes practice to listen, and how we can tap into it using the kitchen as our playground. That morning, my intuition was niggling at me to step away from work. To rest.

I only listened because of you.

Because I remembered this work we’re doing here, of tuning in and trusting the deeper, quieter, wiser part of ourselves. So I drew a bath, sprinkling in a handful of magnesium flakes. I opened my window to hear the birds, looking up at the blue sky where, somewhere beyond the clouds, the full moon was making its ascent.

As I slid into the warm water, I set an intention to open. I kept bringing my attention back to that word—open—sinking into softness.

When I stepped out of the bath some minutes later, I heard in my head, as if those Scrabble tiles had finally lined up: Make the muffins in your divine feminine.

Strange.

But I’ve learned not to argue with these pings. So down to the kitchen I went.

For the first time ever, I set an intention to cook in my divine feminine, which is the intuitive, receptive energy in all of us, the counterpart to our driven, active divine masculine (more on that in a moment). And something remarkable happened. My mind completely settled. I moved as if through water, swaying on my feet. I enjoyed the trickle of peach juice down my fingers. I hummed gently to myself. I didn’t force anything. It didn’t feel like work—it felt like a collaboration. Before I knew it, the photos and videos were done and I was sitting with a muffin on my plate, cardamom-scented crumbs melting on my tongue.

We all have aspects of the divine feminine and divine masculine within us. This has nothing to do with our biological sex or chosen gender—rather, it’s a way of being. (If it feels better for you, ditch the words masculine and feminine and just focus on the concepts.) The divine masculine is associated with action. It’s the yang energy of discipline, drive, and productivity. The divine feminine is associated with intuition and flow. It’s the yin energy of receptivity and nourishment—the source of our creativity, compassion, and ability to listen deeply.

The aim is to find a balance of both within us. For most of my adult working life, I was predominantly in my masculine energy—some of it the natural expression of my Aries/type A being, but much of it layered on from conditioning, like an itchy sweater I mistook for my own skin. It was the only way I was taught to succeed: through hustle, productivity, competition, and striving. I knew no other way.

That’s what led to a full-body burnout in 2022. Which then led to this newsletter, and my book. Since the start of Mind, Body, Spirit, Food, I vowed to do things differently. As I write to you now, I suppose I was bringing my divine feminine on board. Instead of managing this space from my old mode of hustle and control, I wait for alignment. I can’t force the content—the inspiration has to sprinkle in. I’ve had to learn patience and trust (still learning!). It doesn’t mean there aren’t deadlines or stress, but the work no longer feels like a cage—more like a flowing river.

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The muffins taught me something that day. I’m not saying we should always cook in our divine feminine—sometimes fire and action are fun!—but I do think it’s a valuable exercise. It gives us a new lens for approaching the kitchen. When we invite in our divine feminine, cooking becomes an invitation to soften, to open to sensuality, to tend to ourselves with compassion. Instead of something to conquer or check off our to-do list, feeding ourselves becomes an act of real nurturing.

The more we practice this in the kitchen, the easier it becomes to express our divine feminine energy in our wider lives (and again, this has nothing to do with gender). As I’ve learned over these past three years, divine feminine energy is just as powerful as its masculine counterpart (dare I say more so?—it has opened the door to a deep well of creativity, flow, trust and connection). It’s soft but fierce. It’s fiercely compassionate, creative, and collaborative.

And aren’t those just the qualities we could use more of right now? We’re collectively in a state of imbalance. The shadow side of divine masculine energy—aggression, domination, emotional suppression—is in full expression. It’s time to recalibrate. The kitchen can be a delicious place to start.

Hear the full story (it’s weird but oh so good!)

I’m excited to offer something new today. Premium subscribers will get a voice memo from me, hidden from others (like a cool Harry Potter trick), recorded on the day I shot these muffins. In it I share the full story of that day—which included not just the full moon bath and muffin making, but also a rage-induced dream and a very real vulture in the middle of the road—and what they taught me about following our intuitive pings and building a life of real magic. If you’re a paid subscriber, you’ll find it below!

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If you’re enjoying today’s newsletter, an easy way to support it is to click the heart in the upper or lower corner. It lets me know you’re here and helps spread the love. ❤️

August CookStack Collective Class

The divine feminine is about collaboration, not competition, and that's exactly what we're doing with the CookStack Collective. Twelve food writers have come together to offer monthly cooking classes across a range of topics and themes—weaving more threads between us, supporting one another while also supporting you, our dear readers. This month’s class will be taught by on Friday, August 21 (at 3 pm ET), where she’ll teach you how to make homemade kimchi, demystifying at-home fermentation! Classes are free for all premium subscribers, and you can register at the hidden link below (not hidden if you’re a premium subscriber), or you can hop to this page to get the full line-up.

The recipe

These spiced peach muffins were sparked by the Almond Flour Muffins in my book, Mind, Body, Spirit, Food, which are my family’s favorite (in the book I feature apple and banana variations). They have a supremely tender texture, a hint of cinnamon and cardamom, and pockets of diced peaches. They’re sweetened with just maple syrup and peach puree, with olive oil for moisture, and they’re grain-free (made with just almond flour).

It’s a simple two-bowl batter, and I invite you to make them in a way that feels open and receptive. Sway on your feet as you whisk. Admire the thick juice of the peach as it seeps onto your fingers. Tend to yourself gently as you go. Make them in your divine feminine.

You can download a printable PDF of the recipe here, or scroll down for a text version:

Grain Free Peach Olive Oil Muffins

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Watch the video:

More peach recipes to try:

• Peach & Almond Galette

• Peach Crisp

• Grilled Peaches (try them with this Cardamom Whipped Cream—so easy and so spectacular)

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Wishing you a wonderful week, and remember to nourish yourself with intention and love. ❤️

xo, Nicki

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Grain-Free Peach Olive Oil Muffins

These spiced peach muffins have a moist, almost ethereal texture. They’re sweetened with just maple syrup and peach puree, with olive oil for moisture and diced peaches for extra flavor. They’re also grain-free, made with almond flour and a touch of arrowroot flour for structure. It’s a simple two-bowl batter, and I invite you to make them in a way that feels open and receptive. Sway on your feet as you whisk, admire the thick juices of the peach seep onto your fingers, to tend to yourself gently as you go. (For a different flavor profile, you can get a banana and an apple variation of this recipe in my book, Mind, Body, Spirit, Food.)

Intention: I will open to my divine feminine.

Makes: 12 muffins

Dry ingredients

• 2 3/4 cups (275g) almond flour

• 1/4 cup (32g) arrowroot flour or cornstarch

• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda

• 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt

• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

• 1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom

Wet ingredients

• 2 large eggs

• 1/2 cup (165g) maple syrup (or honey)

• 1/4 cup (50g) olive oil

• 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

• 1 large peach, peeled and pureed (2/3 cup / 160-170g pureed)—see the tips

• 1 medium peach, peeled and diced (3/4 cup / 120g diced)

Preheat the oven to 350˚F (175˚C). Line 12 muffin cups with paper liners.

In a large bowl, whisk together the almond flour, arrowroot flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and cardamom. If the almond flour is clumpy, use your fingers to break up the clumps.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, maple syrup, olive oil, lemon juice, and peach puree.

Pour the wet ingredients over the dry ingredients and whisk to combine. Fold the chopped peaches.

Scoop the batter into the prepared muffin cups (an ice cream scoop works great for this). Bake the muffins, rotating the pan halfway through, until they’re evenly golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 20-25 minutes (they take 23 minutes in my oven).

Let the muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer them to a rack and let them cool completely before savoring.

Storage: The muffins can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for 1 day or frozen for up to 3 months.

Tips:

• To puree the peach, peal it and cut it into chunks, then process it in a mini food processor or small blender. If your peach isn’t very ripe and doesn’t puree easily, add a splash of water—you’re aiming for a consistency of thick applesauce (see the photos).

• I always suggest using a kitchen scale when baking with nut flours (or when baking in general), as it’s more accurate and consistent—and easier too!

• It’s best to use lighter colored muffin tins, as dark tins can cause the sides to brown more quickly (if using dark tins, check them early).

• For a vegan version, swap out the eggs for an equivalent amount of egg replacer (such as Bob’s Red Mill brand).

Hello my loves,

I’m writing this at the concrete table on my back deck, looking at our little terraced garden beds that we dug out of our hillside thirteen years ago (you can take a little tour of our garden in this video). We’ve had a bumper crop of zucchini and summer squash this year, which I’m not taking for granted, since last year we lost most of our harvest to blossom end rot. I also just counted 32 plump tomatoes that are slowly ripening on the vines.

I was just about to write, summer is here, but in reality, it feels like summer is slipping through my fingers. The last two weeks have been a jumbled mix of balancing work, teaching and coursework (training in quantum energy healing) with appointments for the kids, camps, a thousand drop-offs (and pick-ups), and dates with friends. But also… weekends reading by the pool, long walks up our mountain road in the morning before the temperatures climb, dinners by the garden.

I recently read somewhere that one way to make summer feel longer is to do one new thing each week. Our summer has been full of firsts (when you get this I’ll be on my home from an overnight with Ella, where we toured our first college campus… gulp), but I’ve found that, for me, one way to slow summer down is to come out here. I’m not the gardener of the family (that’s James), but this year I’ve been drawn to the garden in a deep way. I just put my feet in the soil and talk to the plants. I’m the self-titled encourager. It’s not a one-sided exchange—the plants offer lessons in return about rooting, growth, cycles, and how vital it is to trim away the stuff that’s dying. But most of all, they teach me how to just be.

I’m not only the vegetable encourager, I’m also the harvester, and the other way I’ve been slowing down summer is by marking the days by the meals we’ve made. I’ve been cooking up a storm, using what I gather from the garden and our farm share.

Sheet pan panzanella from my book, and Miso Maple Chopped Salads with shrimp and local peaches. Beet & halloumi salads and clean-out-the-fridge falafel bowls to use up the end-of-the week odds and ends. Reverse marinated steaks, chicken and fish, cooked on the grill and paired with a giant salad and rice or grilled potatoes. Bowls of all sorts, from spicy salmon bowls (Ella’s choice when she got home from two weeks away); to lamb kofta bowls (from my book, Build-a-Bowl) with quinoa and labneh; to taco bowls with grilled chipotle chicken and cabbage and sweet corn slaw. Cold cucumber and buttermilk soup paired with paninis. Taco salads with creamy cilantro lime dressing and miso maple chopped salads. And a new peanut noodle salad that my family is completely obsessed with (the recipe is coming soon).

On the sweet side: creamy lime bars with gingersnap pistachio crust from my book. A chocolate studded pavlova piled with whipped cream and berries. Juicy peaches topped with cardamom whipped cream. No-churn fruit “ice creams.” And I’ve been testing grain-free peach muffins, which have become a breakfast and snack staple (coming next week!).

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With 32 tomatoes about to ripen, they’re about to have their moment to shine (our first red beauty is on the countertop, about to be turned into a sandwich for lunch). I’ve gathered together my favorite tomato recipes below, in case you could use some inspiration too (the tart is number one on my list). And let’s not forget about any of those zucchini and summer squash in the fridge (how could I? They’re taking up half the vegetable drawer). Below are some of the best ways I know to use them up, both savory and sweet.

We’re over halfway through summer (according to our school calendar), so here’s to slowing down the days by lingering in the garden and at the table. Sending you all my love. ❤️

Tomato & Zucchini Recipes

The recipes below are naturally gluten-free, as always. While many of the links below are free, several are paywalled. Becoming a premium subscriber gets you access to 160+ recipes in the archive, plus free classes, bonus content, and more. Thank you for helping make this work possible!

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TOMATOES

Tomato & Goat Cheese Galette with Chili Crisp: Buttery, flaky crust with a creamy layer of goat cheese, juicy tomatoes and a surprising spicy kick from chili crisp—this one of my favorite summer recipes.

Easy Tomato Gratin: The easiest gratin you’ll ever make, and perfect alongside simple grilled fish, meats or vegetable spreads.

Panzanella Stuffed Tomatoes: I wait all year to make these stuffed tomatoes, which are filled with cubes of bread, cheese, and herbs.

Grilled Panzanella Salad: Endlessly customizable and always delightful (soggy-crispy, tomato soaked chunks of bread… swoon).

Miso Grilled Salmon with Tomato & Avocado Salsa: The tomato and avocado salsa ties this dinner together, but I also pile it over grilled steak, chicken, tacos and bowls.

No-Cook Tomato Pesto: Chuck it all in the food processor and let it do its thing—in minutes you’ll have a creamy tomato sauce that clings to noodles (and whatever else delights you).

ZUCCHINI & SUMMER SQUASH

Grilled Eggplant & Zucchini with Tahini & Pomegranate Molasses: This is the easiest way to dress up grilled vegetables—serve them with kebabs or these pan-fried falafel.

Roasted Vegetable Lasagna: Roast up a bunch of zucchini and other vegetables (you can use what you have) then layer them into a make-ahead lasagna that’s light enough for summer.

Cheese & Herb Stuffed Zucchini Boats: This is the dish that finally got my oldest to eat zucchini when she was little.

Creamy Summer Squash Soup with Mint Pesto: It’s silky and creamy (but cream-less), and dreamy when served chilled with a swirl of mint pesto.

Zucchini and Feta Cakes with Garlicky Yogurt: I started making these as toddler finger food back in the day but now serve them as an elegant appetizer (nobody’s the wiser).

Ultimate Zucchini Gratin: This one (pictured above) takes a bit of work to assemble but is always a showstopper.

Best Zucchini Bread: My go-to zucchini bread, not too sweet (sweetened with maple syrup), just as delicious with a slather of butter as it is with a scoop of vanilla ice cream (or with nothing at all).

Double Chocolate Zucchini Cake: Zucchini gives this naturally-sweetened, wholesome cake a rich, moist texture. And that frosting…!

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Wishing you a wonderful week, and remember to nourish yourself with intention and love. ❤️

xo, Nicki

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Hello my loves,

Today’s recipe is a superpower—a simple marinade that transforms meat, fish, and vegetables. But unlike most marinades, this one goes on after cooking. It seeps into whatever you’ve cooked, imbuing it with herby, bright flavor (unlike traditional marinades, this one also becomes the sauce). I learned the technique in Italy in my early twenties, and it rocked my world, changing how I felt about steak forever. (Truth be told, I didn’t even like steak until that meal: tender slices slicked with a bright, caper- and herb-laden sauce, eaten outside at 1 am after a day of travel trouble… but that’s a story for another time.)

The benefits of reverse marinating go beyond flavor. There’s moisture, too—this is a foolproof fix if you happen to overcook your meat or fish. And the dishes are even better at room temperature, which makes this an ideal meal for entertaining (no more stressing about timing).

This recipe is part of our COOK FREE series, where I’m offering tips to help you become a more intuitive cook and find more confidence, freedom, and ease in the kitchen. Before we dive in, however, there’s one step that can’t be overlooked.

We need to get embodied.

Let’s get physical

Our intuition doesn’t live in our minds. It’s sparked in the quiet recesses of our hearts and guts. Our senses are the doorway in. Neuroscientist Joel Pearson puts it well in The Intuition Toolkit:

You have the opportunity to tap into a vast sea of unconscious information sourced from your five senses, often sitting there unused.

When we’re fully embodied—present in our senses—we can hear the gentle tugs of our intuition. Everybody feels their intuition differently, but it’s often experienced as a gut response (a yes or no), a feeling of lightness (versus heaviness), or an opening of the heart. It’s usually not a loud shout, but rather a quiet nudge. If we’re stuck in the web of our thoughts, it’s all too easy to dismiss those sensations.

The term “get embodied” seems almost ironic. We’re already embodied, because we’re in bodies! But just this morning, after being sucked down a YouTube rabbit hole (uggghhh) trying to figure out a strategy for importing my podcast episodes to a new channel (I’d love if you’d subscribe, hint, hint), with a mind that was tangled and tight, I started making breakfast on autopilot. It wasn’t until I poured my tea that I realized I was completely disconnected, caught like a trap in my head. All it took was a few deep breaths to bring me back into my body (that, and putting my computer away). Breakfast became a thousand times more enjoyable.

I’ve talked before about the power of two deep breaths before cooking and eating (and written about it in my book)—how it calms our nervous systems and brings us into our bodies—but in the video below I offer one more element, something even more grounding, that will help you feel embodied no matter the state you start in. Use it before cooking, or anytime you need to feel more settled and whole.

If you want to go even deeper, this week I also shared one of my favorite meditations for feeling your roots and tuning into your inner voice. It’s a wonderful way to start your day or to reset. As one reader commented:

I just listened to the meditation and to be honest I found myself thinking I could listen to this several times throughout the day. The morning to start my day. Mid afternoon when I’m most stressed and my final thoughts before bed.

The recipe

The brilliant thing about getting embodied is that it not only helps us hear our intuition, but it also makes us better cooks (and those two things are more intertwined than you’d think). When we’re fully in our senses, our intuition guides us in the simplest of ways, and cooking becomes an act of reciprocity instead of reaction. We can smell the garlic before it turns bitter in the oil. We can hear the bubble of the stew, turning down the heat before it boils over. We can see the shift from ruby to blush when the salmon is cooked through.

Today’s ad-hoc recipe is a great way to invite your intuition on board. You can play with the ingredients and proportions (remember, perfectionism is the enemy of intuition, so get playful!). But sometimes we need to start somewhere more concrete. As we talked about last week, intuition is a combination of instinct and experience, and experience can hone our intuition. If this is all brand new to you, you can get a full, detailed version of the reverse marinade recipe in my book, Mind, Body, Spirit, Food. Start there. Make it a few times, then move beyond it.

But trust me: this is so easy (you can do it!), and the results exceed the effort by a mile. You can watch me make it in real time in the video above (where I also show you our small but mighty vegetable garden).

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P.S. I packed up that steak I made in the video above and refrigerated it for dinner, which we ate cold over salad with the leftover marinade as the dressing. The meat was incredibly tender and bursting with flavor—it was the perfect dinner for a hot summer’s night.

A quick favor! If you appreciate this newsletter, would you mind clicking the heart ❤️ in the upper left? It really helps spread the love.

More in the COOK FREE series:

Cucumber Everything

Our cucumbers are currently exploding in our garden, and I’ve made this Chilled Cucumber & Buttermilk Soup twice now (I had forgotten how much we love it)—it’s light but luscious, and an optional chili garlic oil gives it a bit of sparkle. This Cucumber Salmon Sushi Salad is also a family favorite and is on the menu this week.

CookStack Collective August Class

Save the date! The CookStack Collective August cooking class will be hosted by on Friday, August 21, 2026 at 3 pm EST, and the theme is homemade kimchi. Whether you’re new to fermentation or just want to finally learn how to make kimchi, you won’t want to miss this one—it’s easier than you might think, and it always feels a little like magic.

As a reminder, the CookStack classes are available for all paid subscribers as an extra bonus for supporting this work (I couldn’t do it without you!!). You can register for the August class, get the whole line-up of classes, and watch the replays at this link (it also now lives on the homepage under the Classes drop-down).

Below you’ll find:

• A printable recipe/guide, leading you step-by-step in how to make and master the reverse marinade, with plenty of room for play

• The ingredients you’ll need plus swaps

• Access to the full how-to video above

• The link to register for August’s CookStack Collective cooking class

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Read more

Today I’m offering something a bit different. This summer in the cook-free series we’re exploring intuition, and intuition doesn’t live in your head. It lives in your body, your gut, that quiet space in your chest that knows things before your mind catches up.

So today I’m sharing a quick meditation to help you root down, out of your thoughts and into the quiet space of your heart, to ask the question: what do I need to know right now? It’s how I start every morning, and it’s a good one to return to before you cook, before a hard conversation, or any time you need to hear your own inner wisdom underneath all the noise.

You can listen sitting, standing, lying down, or even walking. It’s helpful to have a journal or pen and paper at hand, but all you really need is a bit of quiet.

You can revisit the meditation as often as you’d like right here or on the podcast.

Subscribe to the podcast on Apple

Subscribe to the podcast on Spotify

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Let me know if you give it a listen. If it resonates, please support this work by liking, sharing, or becoming a paid subscriber if you’re able. Your support makes all this work possible! ❤️

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Sending you loads of hugs, and remember to nourish yourself with intention and love.

xo, Nicki

p.s. Don’t miss week’s COOK FREE recipe (Tamari-Ginger Grilled Chicken Sandwiches), which is a delicious place to start honing your intuition.

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Hello my dears,

Today is another edition of COOK FREE, a new series where recipes become more sensory and less structured. As I shared in this post, while there is a place for strict measured recipes, when it comes to weeknight cooking, that’s the least fun way to cook (in fact, it’s the most stressful). In this series we’re loosening the reins of the recipe in order to access more freedom and play, ultimately becoming more intuitive and confident cooks.

Today’s chicken sandwich is a delicious place to experiment. It features an easy marinade that you can’t get wrong, quick pickled cucumbers for crunch (that you’ll want to eat with everything), and a creamy sriracha mayo for slathering. You pile everything into a sandwich or over rice or grains for an easy dinner that’s endlessly adaptable and fun to play with.

On the surface, intuitive cooking sounds easy—it’s cooking from our own inner guidance system. My college roommate was brilliant at this. I arrived in Colorado, where I went to school, fresh from the Midwest where romaine was as exotic as ingredients got. She taught me about curry powder, fresh chiles, and cheddar cheese that wasn’t dyed yellow. She would flutter about our older friends’ kitchens (we lived in the dorm), adding a dash of this and a sprinkle of that, preparing meals like a fluttering fairy. It looked like magic to my young eyes—while I loved cooking, I was recipe bound, not trusting myself to even pour olive oil into the pan without measuring. What I didn’t realize was that she had had years of practice, growing up in Vermont in a family of adventurous eaters and cooks.

In Thinking, Fast and Slow, Nobel Prize winner Daniel Kahneman explores the science of intuition. One form is automatic—run from the bear!—but the kind we use for day-to-day decisions requires context. It’s a combination of instinct and learned experience. The more learned experience we have, the more finely tuned our instinct becomes.

In other words, we can actively hone our intuition through repetitive, practiced action. And that’s exactly what we’re doing in the kitchen. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve been building your intuition in the kitchen for as long as you’ve been spreading peanut butter on toast or seasoning soup with salt. As I describe in my book, one of the best ways to start tapping into intuition is simply by salting to taste—add a pinch, taste, add more until it tastes good to you. Eventually you’ll know what a pinch will taste like just by the feel of the granules in your fingers.

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Tapping into our intuition requires self-trust, and that’s what trips most of us up. It’s easy to spread just the right amount of nut butter (to you!) on bread, but when it comes to higher stakes meals, it’s far less risky to follow a recipe written by an “expert.” While there’s a time and place for that, the cult of the recipe can become a cage, and we never trust ourselves enough to go beyond what’s written. And yet, it’s there that we build our confidence, becoming more empowered cooks, and experience more freedom and play.

We can start in a low-stakes way, with dishes like today’s. It helps to zoom out a bit, thinking about flavors in terms of balance, rather than exact ratios. The saltiness of tamari (or soy sauce) gets balanced with a bit of maple syrup or honey, brightened with lime, and rounded out with garlic, ginger, and sriracha for an easy, ad-hoc chicken marinade. For crunch, a quick cucumber salad, made punchy with chiles. And something creamy to tie it all together—a sriracha mayo (or a yogurt sauce, if that’s what’s in your fridge).

That’s the whole trick, really—balance, not precision. Taste as you go. Add more lime if it needs brightness, more maple if it’s too sharp, more sriracha if you want the heat. You don’t need exact measurements to make this good—you need your own two hands and a willingness to taste. So marinate the chicken, quick-pickle the cucumbers, whip up the sauce, and build the sandwich in the way that feels right to you.

A quick favor! If you appreciate this newsletter, would you mind clicking the heart ❤️ in the upper left? It really helps spread the love.

Go deeper with these podcast episodes:

• Rooted & Rising (tips for getting rooted, and how that ties into our personal power)

• How to Build Trust in the Kitchen with

• How to Become an Intuitive Cook with Katerina Pavlakis

And don’t miss the first COOK FREE recipe: crispy pounded pork chops or chicken breasts with a bitter greens salad, your way.

Today’s recipe

Below you’ll find:

• A step-by-step how-to video

• The ingredients you’ll need plus swaps

• A printable recipe/guide, leading you step-by-step in how to make and master these chicken sandwiches, with plenty of room for play

• Friday’s CookStack Collective cooking class recording (This month’s class was hosted by , who cooked up her summer favorites from the galley of her sailboat. I couldn't attend live, but I watched the replay and it's SO FUN. As a reminder, paid subscribers get access to all CookStack live classes and recordings. Each month a new writer/chef hosts a live class, diving into topics ranging from homemade kimchi to cozy fall dinners, to holiday favorites—I'll be teaching in October! You won’t want to miss the fun.)

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Hello my loves,

We’re back home from a week in Corsica, capped off with two days in Paris. As sometimes happens when I sit down to write this newsletter, my fingers feel clunky. I’d much rather have you here at my kitchen table, where I’m sitting with a cup of tea, bleary-eyed from travel but content, looking out at our back garden, sodden with rain from last night’s storm. If you were here I’d pour you a cup and cut you a piece of the gluten-free, olive-studded focaccia I brought home from Paris. But here we are, on opposite screens, and these clunky fingers will have to do. So today, I’m sharing the cliff notes version of our trip, blurred by jet lag, imagining you here with me.

I’d actually never thought much about Corsica — as a place or destination — until my friend Jess told me about her trip to Sardinia last year, just south of the island (you can take a ferry between the two). My interest was instantly piqued: a chance to brush up on my very, very rusty French, with an excuse to stop in Paris for a night or two on the way home.

I’ll admit, a small, eensy weensy, part of me doesn’t want to tell you about Corsica at all. It was that good. Honestly, it was the most beautiful place I’ve ever been, with mountains rising straight out of the Mediterranean. There weren’t many American tourists (the first three nights, we saw none). We flew into Ajaccio (connecting through Paris) and spent the night at a hotel near the airport. That night we had one of our favorite meals of the whole trip at A Nepita: tuna tartare with wasabi ice cream, roast veal over pomme purée, and pavlova with thick cream, berries and sorbet.

The next day we drove north, stopping in Cargèse for lunch at A Volta, which had stunning views and juicy, flaky whole grilled fish. We continued on to Piana, where we had a hotel booked for two nights, and… got a flat tire along the way. It was a major headache in the moment — Enterprise insisted on towing the car the next day, and we spent hours on the phone with no idea how we’d get to Calvi, our next stop. However, it ended up being a total blessing (more on that in a minute).

A server at our hotel finagled us a ride to our boat trip in Porto — our only scheduled activity of the whole trip — to explore the cliffs, caves, and volcanic formations of the UNESCO World Heritage site. It was one of our favorite parts of trip, especially swimming into the caves, which were powerful and soft at once, multicolored from different stones, and magical in a visceral way.

Carless, we walked across the street from our hotel the second night to dinner at Les Roches Rouges — another favorite meal, technical and artistic in a way that surprised us, like the tomato salad (pictured below) where the “tomato” is actually goat cheese wrapped in tomato jelly.

The flat tire turned out to be a blessing in disguise: after much begging, Enterprise arranged a car service for us to Calvi. The drive was insane — narrow roads, cliffs straight into the sea, jaw-dropping and terrifying in equal measure. We were grateful to have an experienced Corsican driver and stopped more than once to settle our stomachs. Since we had to rent a new car in Calvi, we also changed our flights to fly out of Calvi instead of driving the three hours back to Ajaccio (which wouldn’t have occurred to us if we hadn’t lost our original car). It ended up feeling like a gift from the universe. The experience required an interesting mix of surrender and determination, and if you were here I’d tell you all about how my inner voice guided me (and finally helped me land in trust)… but that’s for another morning.

Calvi sits right on the water and is more touristy than Piana but stunning all the same — mountains rising from the sea, one with small pockets of snow even as temperatures sat in the high eighties and nineties. We spent four days there: exploring the citadel (the walled fortress climbing up from the city), swimming, jumping off rocks into the sea outside our Airbnb, eating an unreasonable amount of gelato (Milani was our favorite), and resting — I got through two novels during the trip: this, which felt perfectly suited to the landscape, and this, which I loved.

We hadn’t made dinner plans in Calvi, but tables were fairly easy to come by as long as we arrived by 8pm. Our favorite was U Fornu, all traditional Corsican food built around local ingredients (interestingly, our least favorite meal was a the fanciest). We also spent a full day on the Calvi beach, where restaurants rent chairs and umbrellas right on the sand (we rented a “bed” which was much cheaper), allowing you to break mid-day for a proper sit-down lunch, feet still in the sand. Europeans really do know how to beach it right.

From Calvi we flew to Paris and stayed in the Marais — my first time in the neighborhood, which is vibrant (and packed), and full of good shopping. We ate gluten-free pastries from Copains every single day, and had memorable dinners at Chez GrandCoeur (an upscale brasserie), Tasca (an entirely gluten-free Italian restaurant near the Eiffel Tower — the homemade fettuccine was our favorite), and Auberge Nicolas Flamel (with a three-course set menu that changes daily and genuinely great gluten-free bread).

Speaking of gluten-free: dinners in Corsica were mostly GF-friendly, though it’d be trickier if you have celiac, since cross-contamination doesn’t seem to be on most kitchens’ radar there (that’s not an issue for us, thankfully). Our favorite lunches of the whole trip were picnics on our Airbnb patio: local cheeses, sausages, and tomatoes so juicy they didn’t need anything else.

Itinerary for paid subscribers

If you’re a paid subscriber and would like my full itinerary with the links to where we stayed and the restaurants we ate at (with my notes), just send me a DM or start a paid chat thread, and I’ll send it to you! You can also comment directly in this post. ❤️

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Easy French Tart

Throughout our stay in Corsica and Paris, we kept seeing tarts that looked like today’s (originally published two years ago but still my summer go-to), but this is the far easier version. If you’ve been here on Mind, Body, Spirit, Food for a while, you know my cooking runs simple: nothing arcane, nothing that eats up a whole day in the kitchen, just food that lands you in your body and (hopefully) sparks joy. I originally called this one a “cheater’s French tart,” but it isn’t cheating at all — it’s its own form of delight.

Instead of using pastry cream, the no-cook filling is a mix of cream cheese (giving it subtle cheesecake vibes), creme fraiche (lending an ultra silky texture) and vanilla paste (for rich vanilla flavor). A simple graham cracker and almond crust provides crunchy contrast, although you could go for a blind-baked pasty crust instead. Use any fresh fruits you love — berries, peaches, plums, mango, kiwi — anything juicy and brimming with life. The fruit gets brushed with apricot jam, the secret to its glistening appearance (and yes, that’s what fancy French patisseries use too). You can get the recipe below.

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Summer Cooking Classes

Come cook with me! I’m so excited to offer online and live cooking classes this summer, which are kicking off this week.

• Kripalu Online Summer Series | July 15th, 6:00pm ET: In this 3-part online series, I’ll be sharing practices and recipes to nourish all of you. We’ll explore themes of intuition, intention, exploration, expression, and more, with vibrant recipes that make the most of the summer season. Register here.

• BlueCashew Kitchen Homestead (Kingston, NY) | July 16th, 5:30pm ET: Join me for an intimate hands-on cooking workshop, where we’ll make a summer feast, then sit to enjoy dinner together. Register here.

• CookStack Collective Online Cooking Class | July 17th, 7pm ET: In this month’s CookStack Collective class, host will be sharing three summer meals that are perfect for picnics, beach days, boat days, and potlucks. The free class is available for paid subscribers — register here.

Get today’s recipe

Below you’ll find:

• a downloadable, printable PDF of the recipe (as well as a text version)

• recipe tips

• a video

• more favorite no-cook summer desserts

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I’m so excited to announce a new series of classes just for paid subscribers, as a special added bonus for being here. I’ve teamed up with 12 incredible Substack food writers and recipe developers to bring you monthly Zoom cooking classes. Each month, one of us will lead a live class sharing recipes, tips, and a little company in real time. You can cook along or simply sit back with a cuppa something delicious and watch. Either way, you’ll have the recipes to return to whenever you’re ready.

The classes are such a fun way to come together in community and learn from some amazing experts and recipe developers. This is a party you won’t want to miss!

As a paid subscriber, you’ll receive access to:

• 12 live Zoom cooking classes

• Recipes and class materials

• Access to every recording

• The opportunity to cook alongside some incredibly talented teachers

Below you’ll find the dates, times, and details for all of the classes, along with the class replays (once available). And save the date—my class will be October 15th at 1pm ET. We’ll be making two of my favorite fall staples—something savory and something sweet.

If you’re a free subscriber and have been thinking about upgrading, this is a deliciously good reason. Along with the cooking classes, you'll get my weekly recipes, special bonus content, and my full recipe archive (over 160 gluten-free recipes). Click the link to join!

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Before we dive in, I wanted to share something I’m tickled pink about. I’ve teamed up with 12 incredible Substack food writers and recipe developers t…

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The season seven finale is here, and this one made me teary-eyed. Before we dive in, thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here, for helping me to create this container where I can bare my heart. And, to feel free.

Today’s intention is just that: I will feel free. It might sound simple or even a little naïve—freedom, when there are social structures, obligations, schedules, families, meals to make, and a whole world of things that feel non-negotiable. But here’s what I keep coming back to, and what my teacher keeps asking me:

Is that true?

Because underneath all of it—underneath the noise and the have-to’s and the cage we sometimes build around ourselves without even noticing—we are free. This is a freedom that’s available all the time, and nobody can touch it.

In this season finale solo episode, I’m exploring what freedom actually feels like in the body. Not the Jerry Maguire/Tom Petty version of freedom (although, you know). This is a deeper, quieter, and more powerful kind of freedom. I share a story of my own forgetting, and how tiny, micro-moments of remembering are what matter most.

I also get into:

• What real freedom in the kitchen looks like (and why it matters way beyond dinner)

• How I caught myself measuring tamari in my own fried rice recipe, and what that moment revealed

• A sneak peek at a series I’m cooking up this summer called Cook Free

• And why this might be the most important intention yet

This season has been expansive in ways I couldn’t have planned. The guests, conversations, and intentions we’ve held together have fueled me, and I hope they’ve fueled you too.

Season 8 will kick off in the fall, but right now it’s an empty slate—and I mean that as the most exciting thing I can say. Freedom!

Listen

You can listen to today’s episode right here, or, better yet, subscribe to the podcast in Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Pandora, or You Tube.

Subscribe to the podcast on Apple

Subscribe to the podcast on Spotify

Subscribe to the podcast on YouTube

I’d love your support ❤️

This is ad-free, community-funded work. If it means something to you, the best ways to support it are to share this episode, leave a review on your podcast app, or become a paid subscriber. It’s not easy to run a business like this, and I truly couldn’t do it without you. Thank you for all your support!

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I’m sending you so much love. Remember to nourish yourself with intention and love. You’re free!

xo, Nicki

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Recipe Index | Website | Instagram | More Recipes | Cookbooks

This Season’s Intention Episodes:

• I will connect to others.

• I will make this moment sacred.

• I will move one step at a time.

• I will get curious.

• I will play.

• I will get grounded.

Listen to all of season 7, and more, at this link.

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Hello my loves,

Summer is a bodily time. Less layers, more skin, peach juice on the chin, hot concrete underfoot, hands picking tomatoes, knees scraped, brow sweating. More than …

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Thank you to those who joined today’s live with of . We shared the rituals, traditions, and recipes that help us embody and celebrate the summer season. Steve also showed us how to make his punched-up version of tapenade, and I showed my whipped labneh with pistachio dukkah (scroll down to see how I’ll be serving it tonight).

There are so many great tips in this conversation for weaving more meaning and connection into the season, from the tricks we use to amplify simple meals (give us all the no-cook sauces!), to embodiment practices, family rituals, solstice traditions, and more.

Links and resources mentioned in the live:

• Whipped Labneh with Pistachio Dukkah: You can serve this as a dip, side dish, or sauce. Tonight I’ll be serving it with the lamb kofte from my book Build-a-Bowl (the book has plenty of other no-cook sauce recipes too).

• Mini Spatulas: My mini spatulas are one of my favorite kitchen tools, perfect for scraping out jars and for mixing up sauces.

• Fresh Flavors for the Slow Cooker: This weekend is going to be a scorcher in the Hudson Valley. One of my secrets for entertaining in the heat is to pull out my slow cooker—it cooks dinner without heating up the kitchen.

• Slow Cooker Carnitas: I’ll be adapting this slow cooker carnitas recipe for our smoker tomorrow (will keep you posted)!

• Elote Corn Dip: This is one of our favorite summer appetizers when sweet corn is in season. You can cook it right on the grill.

• Ice Cream Cookie Sandwiches: These weren’t mentioned, but I’ll be making them for dessert tomorrow (they’re one of my favorite summer treats).

I’ll be back on Sunday with more summer inspiration. Stay cool this weekend, and remember to nourish yourself with intention and love.

xo, Nicki

Instagram | Recipe Index | Website | More Recipes | Cookbooks

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“Magic is just belief with follow-through.”

Hello my dears,

What happens when you hand a stranger all your savings in cash, buy a restaurant in the middle of the Mojave desert on a feeling, and build something extraordinary from scratch? You get La Copine.

In this week’s podcast episode I sat down with Nikki Hill and Claire Wadsworth, the couple and creative duo behind one of the most talked-about destination restaurants in the California desert, to talk about the deeply intertwined worlds of food, love, intuition, and what it actually takes to build something magical. Their new cookbook, La Copine: New California Cooking from an Oasis in the Desert, is one of my favorites, brimming with layered, dynamic recipes and rich stories.

This conversation went everywhere—from acid trips in Bryce Canyon, to ancient aquifers beneath the desert floor, to writing wedding vows as a song, to the genius of rice flour on eggplant.

Whether you’re a cook, a creative, an entrepreneur, or someone who just wants to be reminded that following a wild feeling in your gut can lead somewhere extraordinary—this episode is for you.

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You can listen to (or watch) today’s episode right here, or, better yet, subscribe to the podcast in Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Pandora, or You Tube.

Subscribe to the podcast on Apple

Subscribe to the podcast on Spotify

Subscribe to the podcast on YouTube

This is the last interview episode of season 7 (there will be one more solo episode next week), and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here. The guests this season have all moved and expanded me in real ways—from ‘s ritualization of bread making, to ‘s ability to see magic in the mundane, to Katerina Pavlakis’s freedom in the kitchen, to Marije Vogelzang’s power of food and design, to ‘s humanity-first way of living, to Samantha Rigoli’s dogma-free approach to perimenopause, to Jerrelle Guy’s kitchen as a place of play and spiritual connection. You can listen to the entire season, including my bi-weekly intention episodes, here.

The podcast will go on break through the summer (although the newsletter will continue as always), and will return for a brand new season in the fall. I can't wait to see what's in store for us!

I’d love your support ❤️

If today’s conversation resonated with you, I’d love it if you shared it with someone who might need to hear it. Leaving a rating also helps more people find the show—and if you’d like to go deeper, becoming a paid subscriber is one of the most meaningful ways to support this work. This ad-free show exists because of this community, and subscribers get access to recipes, cooking classes, bonus content, and more.

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Let me know your thoughts on today’s show, and don’t forget to tap the heart in this post to let me know you’re here. ❤️

Leave a comment

With love,
Nicki

Recipe Index | Website | Instagram | More Recipes | Cookbooks

Links and resources mentioned in the show

• La Copine Cookbook

• La Copine restaurant

• Follow La Copine on Instagram

• Claire’s music

• The Songs of La Copine

• Italian Wannabe documentary (Claire’s stepdad)

• Integraton

• Matais de Stephano

Hungry for more?

Listen to all of the Season 7 episodes here!

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Today’s intention episode is a bit of a carry-over from Sunday’s post. It’s about getting grounded, not as a wellness buzzword, but as a felt sense in the body—as a root system for real inner power.

I recorded the episode on a day that felt like summer—warm and brimming with life outside my window (two carpenter bees are presently buzzing and bumbling near my screen, in concert with the birds in the nearby maple). My bare feet are dusty from stepping in my garden bed early this morning. This is the season of embodiment, not just for pleasure, but also for power.

In the episode, I talk about the difference between ego-driven power and inner power, and why it matters so much right now. I dig into the chakra system and why grounding the root is what allows real confidence to shine (without the arrogance). I share what I did one night to get out of my head, including the meal that helped bring me back into my body. And I talk food: the real, nourishing stuff that steadies us from the inside out.

I also get a little vulnerable about something new I'm exploring—I don't have it figured out yet, but I'm finding that getting grounded is helping me navigate it.

Listen

You can listen to today’s episode right here, or, better yet, subscribe to the podcast in Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Pandora, or You Tube.

Subscribe to the podcast on Apple

Subscribe to the podcast on Spotify

Subscribe to the podcast on YouTube

I’d love your support ❤️

This is ad-free, community-funded work. If it means something to you, the best ways to support it are to share this episode, leave a review on your podcast app, or become a paid subscriber. It’s not easy to run a business like this, and I truly couldn’t do it without you. Thank you for all your support!

Subscribe now

I’m sending you so much love. Remember to nourish yourself with intention and love. Go play with your power!

xo, Nicki

Recipe Index | Website | Instagram | More Recipes | Cookbooks

Links and resources mentioned in the show:

• Sunday’s newsletter about inner power (with a Power Crunch Salad recipe)

• How niceness blocks our power

• Roasted Beet & Halloumi Salad

• The power of play intention episode

• The intention episode about feeling rooted

• Mind, Body, Spirit, Food cookbook

This season’s intention episodes

• I will connect to others

• I will make this moment sacred

• I will move one step at a time

• I will get curious

• I will play

Hello my loves,

This newsletter isn’t a static, editorial-calendar-planned sort of enterprise. When I started it in 2023, my vow to myself—after being in a state of massive burnout—was that I would never force the content. That it would always come from my heart, authentically, and that if it wasn’t flowing, I would pause. While that took a hell of a lot of trust at the beginning (as a former type-A editorial calendar-doer), here we are three years later, and I’ve fully surrendered to the moving, organic organism of this work. Somehow, the content always comes. I do test and plan the recipes ahead, but these posts are always what’s on my heart in real time, shifting me in their creation, as I hope they shift you too, even if by a wink. (You can hear more about my creative process in this recent interview with .)

I share all this because this week, power has been on my mind. Inner power, specifically—a power in, as I wrote in my journal earlier this week, not a power over.

Brené Brown distinguishes between the two. Leaders who work from a place of power over, she writes, “believe that power is finite and use fear as a way to protect and hoard power.” Whereas leaders who work from a position of power with/in/within “believe that power becomes infinite when shared with others.” When I came across her definitions this week, I jumped in recognition.

The difference is palpable: fear versus trust. Constriction versus expansion.

Can you feel it?

In a world where power over feels like the running theme, we resist by cultivating our own personal power—and also, we do this simply because it feels good. Power in is grounded in trust. It’s stabilizing, not stifling. It’s a power that, once felt, can be spread to others like a flame jumping from heart to heart. When we’re in that kind of power, we’re free, no matter what culture or conditioning tries to tell us.

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In the kitchen

The kitchen is one of my favorite playgrounds for tapping into inner power—and I use the word "playground" deliberately. Real power comes with a lightness, almost a silliness. I’ve never met the Dalai Lama, but I’ve heard stories about the glimmer in his eye and his sense of humor. There’s a “fool” card in the Osho deck (shared here), which isn’t a pejorative, but rather an embodiment of pure presence. Native American folklore, too, often uses humor as a teaching tool. Play and power aren’t opposites—they’re intertwined.

(How beautifully synchronistic that this week’s theme of power emerged right after we’ve been exploring play in this podcast episode and this strawberry shortcake post.)

There are foods that help us tap into that place of steadiness within us, and we can incorporate them playfully, not dogmatically. These foods will be different for all of us (I love your unique body!), but some ingredients are universally grounding. Number one on the list: protein.

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I know, I know! This is a protein-obsessed country and I’m not here to add to that craze. I’m not talking data or figures or counting grams. I’m talking energy—how we actually feel when we eat, not what somebody tells us we should eat. In my own journey through mast cell hypersensitivity and the early stages of perimenopause, protein has been the number one player in regulating my symptoms (more on that in this podcast episode with Samantha Rigoli, RD, and if the data side calls to you, is a wonderful resource.)

The science is there to back it up, and it speaks in the same language: protein stabilizes blood sugar by slowing the release of carbohydrates into the bloodstream, smoothing out the peaks and crashes that so easily destabilize our mood. Its amino acids are precursors to serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine—the very chemicals that underpin our sense of wellbeing, motivation, and calm. In other words, protein isn’t just feeding your muscles, it’s feeding your nervous system. It has a hand in your mood and the sense of ground beneath your feet.

We can use food as a way to access a physical sense of power, which in turn can help us tap into an inner power. And it can be a delicious enterprise. As simple as adding more protein to a salad. Like this recipe, filled with foods I love: white beans, hemp seeds, pepitas, and flaked wild salmon (or chicken or tofu), all tossed in a spoon-licking, green-goddess-inspired Creamy Herby Hemp Dressing. The salad is laced with crunchy vegetables and a smattering of golden raisins for sweet-chewy contrast. It’s a riot of textures and flavors, and so damn delicious.

The dressing is inspired by the Hippy Hemp dressing in Jerrelle Guy’s book, We Fancy (listen to my new podcast episode with Jerrelle here—it’s one of my favorites to date). Hemp seeds are having a moment—they’re one of the most protein-dense plant foods out there (per gram, they actually contain more protein than a ribeye steak). I’ve been using them to make these Hemp-Sunflower Protein Bites on repeat (quite literally—I’ve made them almost every week since I posted). When blended, the seeds create a creamy, rich dressing, no dairy required. I add basil, scallions and a touch of honey for a dressing that’s so good you can eat it with a spoon.

This is a salad that will fuel your physical power. But also, with a bit of intention, it can help you access your inner power. Tap into it. Light it up!! Let it spill outward like a rainbow of sparks, igniting others. We’re more powerful than we know, my loves, and even more powerful together. ✨

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The salad recipe is below., and I’d love to hear if there are foods that help you feel your power? In my book, Mind, Body, Spirit, Food, I share a bulgogi bowl recipe (made with beef, pork, or chicken), with the intention, I will connect to my strength. I’m making it this week!

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Related Posts:

• The power of play and embodiment

• How niceness takes us out of our power

• Hemp-Sunflower Protein Bites

• More about the role of protein in this podcast episode with Samantha Rigoli, RD

Substack Live: The Seasonal Table

On June 11th at 9am PT/Noon ET, I’ll be going live with of as part of our Seasonal Table Series—a quarterly series marking the four turning points of the year (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter). For our summer conversation, Steve and I will share what the season means to us—in nature, in the body, in the kitchen, and around the family table. I hope you can join!

SAVE THE DATE

Nourish All of You: Summer Class Series

Summer’s abundance is an invitation to nourish more than just your body. In this 3-part online cooking series with Kripalu, I’ll be sharing seasonal recipes along with simple practices to feed body, mind and spirit. You’ll learn practical cooking skills and walk away with applicable tips to bring more presence, intention, and pleasure into the kitchen.

REGISTER HERE

The recipe

You can download a printable pdf of the salad recipe below, or scroll down for a text version.

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Freedom to choose what you want in each moment is the most authentic thing. It’s being authentic to your now. - Jerrelle Guy

Hello my friends,

What happens when the very thing that once lit you up—cooking, creating, sharing food—becomes the thing that buries you?

In this week’s podcast episode I sit down with Jerrelle Guy—author of the James Beard Award finalist Black Girl Baking, her newly published We Fancy (so good!), and the newsletter —for one of those rare conversations that feels less like an interview and more like two old friends finally finding each other. We discover (out loud, in real time) how parallel our paths have been: both artists who claimed the kitchen as our canvas, both creators who sprinted toward burnout, and both women who had to lose themselves before they could come back home.

Jerrelle and I ended up talking long after this episode was over, and I almost wish we had just kept going. This one goes deep. Pour yourself something warm and delicious, and settle in.

You can listen to (or watch) today’s episode right here, or, better yet, subscribe to the podcast in Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Pandora, or You Tube.

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I’d love to hear your thoughts on today’s show, and don’t forget to tap the heart in this post to let me know you’re here!

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With love,

Nicki

Recipe Index | Website | Instagram | More Recipes | Cookbooks

I’d love your support ❤️

If today’s conversation resonated with you, I’d love it if you shared it with someone who might need to hear it. Leaving a rating also helps more people find the show—and if you’d like to go deeper, becoming a paid subscriber is one of the most meaningful ways to support this work. This ad-free show exists because of this community, and subscribers get access to recipes, cooking classes, bonus content, and more.

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Links and resources mentioned in the show

• Jerrelle’s fabulous new book, We Fancy

  

• Jerrelle’s newsletter,

• Jerrelle’s website

• Find Jerrelle on Instagram

• The podcast episode mentioned with

• Abigail’s book, Returning Home to Our Bodies

• The podcast episode mentioned with

Hello my loves,

My friend Heather is one of the most embodied people I know. She is fully in her skin, connected to her limbs, planted on her (usually bare) feet. She loves food with a passion—she’s the kind of person who dances in her seat, eyes closed in rapture, when she eats something delicious. She’s also often my recipe muse, inspiring this sheet-pan chicken, these tamari meatball subs, and this spice-roasted squash salad, among others.

She was with me on my recent trip to Ireland, where we both danced our way through several meals in Dublin (I’m a dancer too). One night we ordered a dessert featuring a gluten-free pound cake with strawberries, lemon crème anglaise, and basil. Both of us swooned (and shimmied) at the combination. While I’m usually a purist when it comes to strawberry desserts—opting for just a dash of cinnamon or cardamom to complement their flavor (like in this pie, this crisp, or this cake—see below)—I fell hard for the combination of berries with lemon and basil.

As we were eating, Heather mentioned that her favorite dessert is strawberry shortcake, which wiggled its way into my brain—to the point where two days later, back home on Mother’s Day, I found myself making shortcakes for dessert. I started with an old recipe of mine that I love (which uses the same technique as these scones from two weeks ago), but as I began cooking I remembered the strawberry dessert from Dublin, and with a jar of lemon curd I had brought home and a bit of tinkering, this baby was born.

It’s a dance-in-your-seat, eyes-closed-in-rapture kind of dessert, featuring tender biscuits kissed with lemon, a layer of silky lemon curd, a pillow of whipped cream or vanilla ice cream (I can’t decide which I like better, but lean toward ice cream), and a drape of basil-macerated strawberries. The basil and lemon curd are subtle, but lend an herbaceous, sun-bright note that takes the dessert to a new level (you can omit them for classic shortcakes, but I highly recommend them). The recipe makes nine shortcakes, meaning you can bake a batch and freeze them (before or after baking) for all your summer gatherings.

I love a recipe that can do double duty (which is why every recipe in my book, Mind, Body, Spirit, Food, features variations), and these shortcakes can also be eaten as scones. Slather them with salted butter or thick cream, spoon on a pool of lemon curd or jam, pour yourself a pot of tea or coffee, and settle in for a beautiful breakfast or afternoon pause.

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Eat like you’re peeing

This is the weirdest analogy I’ve ever used in this newsletter, and maybe a little circumspect for a space about food, but my husband recently heard on a podcast that we’re most embodied (fully and completely present in our bodies) when we have to pee really badly and finally get to let it go. I’m not going to fact-check that statement, but I know the feeling—and I know you do too!

This week, my invitation for all of us is to eat like we’re peeing: to be fully, completely present in the experience. To get out of our heads and settle into our senses—eating not just with our mouths, but with our entire bodies.

These shortcakes are a glorious way to experiment. Feel your body in your chair. Smell what’s in the air. Look at the plate in front of you. Take a bite and close your eyes. Taste with your whole body! You might find yourself dancing, swaying, or sitting perfectly still in a state of pure focus. Bask in the moment. Bask in your body.

Do this for pleasure. Do it to connect with your physical self. Do it because you deserve it.

Last weekend I made the strawberry shortcakes for Heather and a gaggle of girlfriends, and yes, she danced in her seat.

Let’s play

This week’s podcast episode ties perfectly into today’s theme. What happens when we get out of our heads and invite play? I share simple ways to invite more lightness into our days—in the kitchen and out.

A different kind of shortcake

When I moved to the Northeast over two decades ago I was surprised to see that strawberry shortcake often refers to a sponge cake layered with whipped cream and berries, not biscuits. For a cake with those vibes, try the Strawberry Yogurt Cake in my new book, Mind, Body, Spirit, Food.

Menus for Memorial Day (or any summer gathering)

This weekend we *officially* enter the season of barbecues, potlucks, and summer hangs. Here are two menus that would be perfect for any gathering, from graduations, to fourth of July parties, to lingering dinners with friends. The first is a dinner-party menu featuring dishes that can be (mostly) made ahead, and the second is more of a party feast, with appetizers, mains and desserts (where your friends bring the sides).

• Make-Ahead Memorial Day Menu

• Memorial Day Party - Summer Barbecue Edition

Live pie dough class!

I promised a live pie class after wrapping up my pie series—and it’s finally happening! Join me on Zoom next Thursday, May 28th at 12pm ET.

This class is open to all paid subscribers. We’ll make a batch of pie dough together (cook along with me or just relax and enjoy the chat), and you’ll leave with dough ready to freeze for your summer pies.

This is my very first Zoom class, and I’d love nothing more than to meet you face to face. We’ll have plenty of time for questions (ask me anything) and of course, we’ll talk about bringing more ease and intention into the kitchen. I hope you can join me! ❤️ I’ve included the link to sign up below the paywall.

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The recipe

Below you’ll find the strawberry shortcake recipe (which, as always, is gluten-free, but nobody will know), tips, and the link to join the live pie class.

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There’s a word that keeps showing up for me lately: play.

In this week’s intention episode, I’m reflecting on my recent retreat in Ireland, the heaviness so many of us are carrying right now, and why playfulness might be one of the most important tools we have for reconnecting to ourselves.

This conversation is an invitation to lighten up—not by ignoring reality, but by creating space for joy, creativity, and possibility.

In this episode, we explore:

• Why play can help us step out of collective overwhelm

• The connection between joy, creativity, and personal power

• How the kitchen can become a space for curiosity and freedom

• Letting go of perfection and “the prescription”

• Simple ways to invite more lightness into daily life (including with cookies)

If you’ve been feeling serious, heavy, or stuck in your habitual routines, I hope this episode feels like a warm exhale. Let’s play!

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Get the almond flour cookie recipe mentioned in today’s show in my book, Mind, Body, Spirit, Food.

Listen

You can listen to today’s episode right here, or, better yet, subscribe to the podcast in Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Pandora, or You Tube.

Subscribe to the podcast on Apple

Subscribe to the podcast on Spotify

Subscribe to the podcast on YouTube

I’d love your support ❤️

This ad-free show exists because of listeners like you—and I'm so grateful for that. If you'd like to give back, the easiest ways are sharing the episode or leaving a rating in your podcast app. For deeper access, paid subscribers get the full recipe archive, cooking classes, one-on-one session discounts, and bonus content—all for just a few dollars a month. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being part of this community.

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I’d love to hear your thoughts on today’s show, and don’t forget to tap the heart in this post to let me know you’re here.

Leave a comment

With love,
Nicki

Recipe Index | Website | Instagram | More Recipes | Cookbooks

Last week’s interview

Last week’s interview with Samantha Rigoli, RD will shift how you think about perimenopause—and leave you with applicable tips for navigating the season with more joy and less stress.

More intention episodes