Category: Bun Appétit

Comfort food, edible coping, crisis cookies, and whatever I’m burning in the kitchen this month.

Posted in Bun Appétit

Homemade Banana Bread Syrup

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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A year later and apparently I’ve learned absolutely nothing.

Okay, okay, it’s still August. The kids are just going back to school, summer is technically still happening, and I’m already mentally living in fall.

Last year around this time, I was making my own pumpkin spice syrup because I had officially said “peace out” to Starbucks and decided I could make my favorite seasonal drinks at home instead. And honestly? A year later, I’m still doing exactly that.

Except this time, we’re switching it up.

I’m making the new Starbucks banana bread syrup at home, because apparently I saw something new and immediately thought, “I could probably figure that out.”

And THEN I found out you can apparently no longer get an Apple Crisp Macchiato at Starbucks.

Excuse me???

So naturally, instead of accepting defeat like a normal person, I’ve decided I’m going to teach myself how to make the apple syrup too. Because if Starbucks won’t make my fall drinks anymore, I guess I have no choice but to become the Starbucks seasonal menu department myself.

Last year I showed you how I make pumpkin spice syrup AND how I actually use it in a drink, because I refuse to be one of those recipes that says “here’s the syrup!” and then just leaves you standing there with a jar wondering what the hell you’re supposed to do with it.

So this year, we’re doing the same thing: making the syrup, testing it, and actually making the drink.

Apparently this is just who I am now. Fall comes around and I start reverse-engineering Starbucks drinks.

Homemade Banana Bread Syrup

Ingredients:

  • 2 very ripe bananas
  • ½ cup white sugar
  • ½ cup brown sugar
  • 1 cup water
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 1 tsp nutmeg
  • 1 tbsp vanilla extract or vanilla paste

Instructions:

In a saucepan over medium heat, mash 2 very ripe bananas.

Slowly add the white sugar, brown sugar, and water, stirring everything together. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat and let it simmer for about 10 minutes.

Add the cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla. Stir well and let everything hang out for another minute or two so all those banana-bread flavors can come together.

Now for the important part: strain the syrup. 😂 We are making syrup, not banana soup, so we don’t want chunks of banana floating around in our drink.

Pour the strained syrup into a clean bottle or jar and let it cool before refrigerating.

Store it in the refrigerator and use it in your favorite coffee drinks, iced coffees, lattes, or whatever else you decide needs a little banana-bread magic.

My homemade syrup usually lasts about 2–3 weeks in the fridge.

Posted in Bun Appétit

Maybe My Sourdough Could Feel My Mood

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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I genuinely think baking depends on your emotions.
That’s the only explanation I have for what happened in my kitchen today.

I used a recipe that has worked for me so many times before — a tried-and-true comfort recipe. The kind you can almost make from memory. The kind that usually makes me feel capable and cozy and like maybe I do have my life together for at least a few hours.

But today?
My sourdough tasted like absolute garbage.

And listen, I know everybody has bad baking days. Every cook burns something eventually. But this loaf felt personal. Especially because during COVID, I made sourdough constantly. Like the rest of the world, I became emotionally attached to flour, water, and fermentation. Back then, my loaves were good! They had personality! They tasted comforting!

Today’s loaf tasted like disappointment with a crunchy crust.

Maybe I rushed it. Maybe the starter was off. Maybe my measurements were weird. Or maybe baking really does absorb whatever energy you bring into it. Because some days you carefully knead dough while feeling calm and hopeful, and other days you’re stress-mixing ingredients wondering why nothing is working.

The good news is that bread can always be made again tomorrow.

And honestly? Maybe that’s why I keep baking in the first place.

Posted in Bun Appétit

Fennel-y Back in the Kitchen

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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I love cooking. Not casually—deeply, stubbornly, with a kind of affection that usually involves a whisk in one hand and a grocery list that makes no practical sense. But lately? Cooking and I haven’t exactly been in sync. I think about it constantly, romanticize it even, but somehow don’t end up doing it as much as I want. It’s like craving a perfect croissant and never actually stepping into the bakery.

And then something shifted.

I watched a Julia Child documentary, and it all came rushing back.

That joy. That playfulness. That completely unselfconscious love of food.

She didn’t just cook—she celebrated. She made it feel alive, a little messy, a little imperfect, and entirely worth it. Watching her felt like opening a window I didn’t realize I’d shut somewhere along the way.

I grew up on her PBS shows. I remember being completely captivated—not just by what she made, but by how she made it feel. Like an adventure. Like something you got to do, not something you had to check off a list. When she passed away, I cried real, actual tears. It felt like losing a piece of something warm and joyful.

And then there’s Julie & Julia. I saw it in theaters and walked out equal parts inspired and starving. It’s still one of my favorite movies, and honestly, probably a big reason I ever wanted to start blogging in the first place. There’s something irresistible about the idea of cooking your way through recipes—one imperfect, beautiful attempt at a time.

Lately, I’ve been missing that version of myself. The one who got excited about trying something new just for the sake of it. The one who didn’t overthink every step. The one who just… cooked.

But I don’t think she’s gone. I think she’s just been a little buried under busy weeks and takeout menus.

Every year, I add “try 20 new recipes” to my New Year bingo card. It’s become a quiet little tradition. This year, I’m six recipes in. Six small wins. Six moments where I chose curiosity over convenience.

And right now, I’m especially fixated on this one recipe: https://motherwouldknow.com/alice-waters-shaved-fennel-salad-html/

Yes, it’s technically Alice Waters’, but I only know about it because she shared it with Julia Child—which somehow makes it feel like part of that same magical lineage. And for whatever reason, I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s simple, fresh, a little elegant without trying too hard. Exactly the kind of thing that reminds me why I fell in love with cooking in the first place.

Maybe that’s all I need. Not a perfect schedule or a dream kitchen or hours of free time. Just a little spark. A little curiosity. A willingness to try.

And maybe make a mess along the way.

I think she’d approve. And honestly? That feels like enough.

Posted in Bun Appétit

Starting My Sourdough Starter

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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This spring, I’m coming back to something familiar: sourdough. I’ve done this before—back in 2020, when so many of us were trying new things at home. I kept a starter going for years, tucked in a big jar in the fridge, feeding it regularly and using it for everything from biscuits and scones to muffins and pancakes. It became part of my routine for a while… until, sometime around 2022, I slowly lost interest and let it go.

So this isn’t exactly new—it’s more like starting again.

There’s something about spring that makes it feel right. A season for growing things, or regrowing them. Not just plants, but habits, hobbies, and little rituals that once brought joy. Sourdough feels like the perfect fit for that kind of reset.

I’m using the same simple method I followed before. To begin, dissolve 1 teaspoon of sugar in ½ cup warm water, sprinkle in one packet of yeast, and let it sit for about 10 minutes. Then add 1½ cups warm water and 2 cups of flour, mixing until smooth. Cover it and leave it out overnight. On day two, stir in 1 cup flour, ½ cup sugar, and 1 cup milk, then cover and refrigerate. For the next couple of days, just stir daily. On day five, feed it again the same way as day two, then continue stirring each day through day nine. By day ten, it’s ready to use—bake something, share a cup with a friend, and keep a portion going by feeding it again.

Even having done this before, there’s still that sense of uncertainty. Will it bubble the way I remember? Will I keep up with it this time? But I’m trying not to focus on getting it “right.” Like before, it’s really about consistency and care—showing up each day, paying attention, and letting it grow slowly.

If nothing else, it’s a small, steady reminder: some things are worth starting again.

Posted in Bun Appétit

Super Bowl,Chocolate Chip Cookies

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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So… full honesty? I’m not excited about either team winning this years Super Bowl, which is exactly 1 week away!!!

I was really hoping the Rams would make it to the Super Bowl, and when that didn’t happen, my hype kind of deflated. Patriots vs. Seahawks doesn’t do much for me, so I’m officially going to be watching as a very uninvested observer. The real highlight for me is the halftime show—which, conveniently, is the only time my family actually stops talking. No one in my house is a big sports fan except me, so those uninterrupted 15 minutes feel sacred.

Because my heart isn’t fully in the game, I’m also giving myself permission to be lazy this year. No hand pies, no empanadas, no football-shaped anything. Just cookies. Easy, comforting, low effort cookies—and honestly, that feels right.

To keep it at least a little festive, I’m coloring the dough in each teams three colors and turning them into tri-color chocolate chip cookies. It’s simple, it’s fun, and it doesn’t require the emotional investment that this matchup apparently expects from me.

Ingredients
1 cup softened butter (sweet cream, salted)
1 cup granulated sugar
½ cup brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
2¾ cups all-purpose flour
1 bag Nestlé Toll House chocolate chips
Wilton Color Right Food Coloring System

Instructions
Cream the butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar in a mixer.
Add the eggs and vanilla; mix until fluffy.
Add baking soda and salt; mix well.
Add flour gradually until fully incorporated.
Divide dough into three equal portions.
Color each portion a different team color.
Mix chocolate chips into each portion.
Form a 2 oz cookie dough ball using all three colors together.
Lightly press onto a cookie sheet.
Bake at 375°F for 8–10 minutes, until edges are golden.

I may not care who wins, but I do care about dessert and an exciting halftime show—and this year, that’s more than enough to make Super Bowl Sunday worth it.

Posted in Bun Appétit

My Crazy Cravings: Enter the Chili Relleno Burger

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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I haven’t actually made this yet, but honestly? That’s never stopped my imagination before.

Hector says I get stoner cravings when I’m cramping. I want to argue with him… but today’s food thought experiment is making his case very strong.

Because tell me why my brain confidently announced that what the world needs right now is a Chili Relleno Burger.

Not a suggestion. A declaration.

Picture this:

Top bun slathered in a spicy chipotle sauce — smoky, creamy, slightly unhinged. Sitting right under it? A full chili relleno. Yes, the whole thing. Fried, cheesy, glorious. No restraint.

Then comes the burger patty, but she’s not alone. Oh no. She’s been stuffed with pico de gallo and bacon, because why keep those flavors on the outside when you can hide them inside like delicious secrets?

And finally, the bottom bun gets the calmest role of all: sliced avocado. Cool. Creamy. Trying desperately to balance the chaos above it.

Is this excessive? Absolutely.
Is it unnecessary? Probably.
Would I eat it without hesitation? With both hands.

There’s something about cramping that flips a switch in my brain from “reasonable adult” to “what if we combined everything?” And honestly, I’m choosing to see this not as a flaw, but as a creative process.

So no, I haven’t made the Chili Relleno Burger yet. But the craving has spoken. And if this ends up on a plate someday, just know — it all started here, during cramps, under accusation, fueled by imagination and hunger.

Hector… you might be right. But also?
Let me cook.

I can only imagine how intense my pregnancy cravings will be if this is my normal!

Posted in Bun Appétit

Shortcut Chicken Mole 

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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Let’s get one thing straight: this mole is not homemade.

And yet… it’s so good.

This is my favorite kind of kitchen magic — the kind that starts with a jar, adds a little love, and ends with people asking, “Wait… how did you make this?”

About the Chicken

For this recipe, I used about 5 pounds of chicken, chopped it up, and cooked it separately with a little oil, onion, and garlic until fully cooked and lightly golden.

That said, this mole is flexible:

  • You can use shredded chicken
  • You can boil a whole chicken and use that broth for extra flavor
  • You can do whatever works best for you

The mole is the star — the chicken just needs to show up ready.

While your chicken is cooking, this is when the mole magic happens.

For the Mole Sauce

  • 5 oz tomatoes
  • 1 white onion, cut into thick slices
  • 1 small garlic clove
  • 4–5 cups chicken broth (more as needed)
  • 1 toasted corn tortilla
  • 1 jar (8.25 oz) DOÑA MARÍA® Mole
  • ½ tablet Mexican chocolate
  • ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • Salt, to taste

For the Chicken

  • 5 lbs chicken, chopped into pieces
  • Oil, for cooking
  • 1 small onion, chopped
  • 1–2 garlic cloves, minced
  • Salt, to taste

Instructions

While the chicken is cooking, place the tomatoes, onion slices, and garlic in a saucepan. Cover with water and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.

Once boiling, reduce the heat and simmer for about 8 minutes, or until the tomatoes are softened.

Drain the water.

Transfer the cooked tomatoes, onion, garlic, and toasted tortilla to a blender. Blend until smooth and velvety. Set aside.

Place a large frying pan or pot over low heat. Add the jar of Doña María mole and 1 cup of chicken broth, stirring slowly to loosen the paste.

Add another cup of broth, followed by the blended tomato sauce, Mexican chocolate, and ground cinnamon. Stir patiently until the mole paste fully dissolves into a rich, glossy sauce.

Mole thickens as it cooks, so add more chicken broth as needed

Some people like their mole thicker, others like it silkier. Adjust the broth to your liking.

Traditionally, mole should have the consistency of a thick, spoon-coating gravy.

Add the cooked chicken to the mole sauce, season with salt to taste, and gently simmer for about 5 minutes, allowing the flavors to fully come together.

I use this same mole recipe to make mole enchiladas.

Serve this chicken mole with rice, warm tortillas, and beans.

Posted in Bun Appétit

Chicken Tinga and the Art of Feeling Home

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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Lately I’ve been wanting something from my childhood. Not a specific memory, not even a person—just a feeling. That quiet, grounding kind of comfort that settles in your chest and makes you feel like things might be okay, at least for a moment.

So I cooked.

I made chicken tinga and chicken mole. It was my first time ever making tinga, which feels funny to say out loud because chicken mole is something I make all the time. I don’t follow a strict recipe anymore I just know when it smells right, when it tastes right. Tinga felt new, but familiar enough that I trusted myself with it.

While I was cooking, I kept thinking about this moment from years ago when I was living in Vegas. My ex and an old friend asked me to make something “traditionally Mexican,” and I remember freezing. I didn’t know how to answer that then, and I still don’t now. I don’t know where the line is between traditional and Americanized, because the food I grew up with didn’t come with labels—it was just what we ate.

I remember being at my grandmother’s house, eating frijoles with a tortilla on the side. The tortilla had mayo on it. That was normal. That was home. No one explained it, no one questioned it—it just existed, the same way families do.

I think that’s why cooking feels so grounding for me now. I’m not trying to recreate something perfectly or prove that I belong to any specific category. I’m just trying to make something that feels familiar. Something that reminds me I come from somewhere, even if my memories are layered and a little blurry around the edges.

Making a dish I’d never made before alongside one I know by heart felt right. Like standing with one foot in the past and one foot in the present. Like honoring where I’ve been while still letting myself try something new. The food didn’t need to be perfect. It just needed to be warm, filling, and real.

When I was looking up chicken tinga recipes, I discovered that even Paula Deen has one. I briefly considered making it. I did not. Instead, like always, I called my mom. She gave me a very loose, very vibes-based explanation of how she’d make it, and I did my best to turn that into something resembling a coherent recipe. Which honestly feels more true to how I learned to cook anyway.

Ingredients

Chicken

  • 3 lbs chicken thighs or leg quarters
    (bone-in, skin-on for flavor or boneless/skinless for ease)
  • salt
  • black pepper
  • vegetable oil

Sauce Base

  • 1 large onion, sliced or chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 large (28 oz) can diced tomatoes
    (or 2 smaller 14.5 oz cans)
  • 7.5 oz can chipotle peppers in adobo
  • dried oregano (or 1 tsp fresh)
  • ground cumin (optional but nice)
  • 1 cup chicken broth

Instructions

1. Brown the Chicken

Heat oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat.
Season chicken with salt and pepper. Brown well on one side (or both sides if boneless).
You’re not cooking it through—just building flavor. Remove chicken and set aside.

2. Build the Sauce

Add about 3 tbsp oil to the same pan.
Add onion and cook, scraping up browned bits, until soft and lightly golden.
Add garlic and cook 1–2 minutes until fragrant.

Stir in:

  • Tomatoes (with juices)
  • Chipotle peppers or chipotle powder
  • Oregano
  • Cumin
  • Chicken broth

Bring to a simmer and cook 15–20 minutes, letting everything soften and come together.

3. Blend (Optional but Recommended)

Remove sauce from heat. Let cool slightly, then blend until smooth
(or leave chunky if you want a more rustic texture).
Taste and adjust salt.

4. Cook Until Tender

Place chicken in a large baking dish or return it to the pot.
Pour sauce over chicken.

  • Oven method: Bake uncovered at 350°F for 45 minutes
  • Stovetop method: Simmer covered on low for 45–60 minutes

Chicken should be very tender and easy to shred.

5. Shred + Finish

Remove chicken, shred with forks, discard skin/bones if needed.
Return shredded chicken to the sauce and stir to combine.
Simmer 5–10 more minutes so everything gets cozy.

Posted in Bun Appétit

Dad’s Cozy Potato & Cheese Recipe

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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Okay, here’s the tea: My mom was the kitchen goddess. The queen of comfort food. Like, I don’t know how she made magic happen in that kitchen, but it was always chef’s kiss level.

My dad? Eh, he could cook… but he wasn’t what I’d call a “real cook,” you know? Like, he’d throw some stuff together and somehow it was ALWAYS good, but don’t ask him for a recipe, because he didn’t have one. He was all vibes. A sprinkle of this, a dash of that, and bam—instant deliciousness.

But then… once in a while, he’d step into the kitchen and make this potato-tomato-cheese situation that honestly has a permanent spot in my soul. Like, it’s not just a dish, it’s a feeling. A vibe. A moment in time.

For years—and I mean YEARS—I begged him for the recipe. Like, I literally harassed him. Dad, please, tell me how you make it! I NEED TO KNOW! He’d be like, “Oh, I just made it,” or send me these half-texts that sounded like he was talking to himself and not a person who wanted to actually make it. But FINALLY, after enough tears and pleading (okay, maybe just a few dramatic texts), he gave in. And he sent me the recipe, straight from him. Casual. Laid-back. Just like him. And you know what? That’s what makes it perfect.

Ingredients

  • Potatoes
  • Tomato sauce
  • Water
  • Seasonings to taste
  • Joseph Farms cheese (non-negotiable—Dad insisted!)

Instructions (Just the Way Dad Told Me)

  1. Fry the potatoes
    He said to fry the potatoes for about 20 minutes, just to get some color on them.
  2. Add water
    Add just enough water to cover the potatoes.
  3. Tomato sauce goes in
    Pour in the tomato sauce and stir it around.
  4. Season however you like
    Dad wasn’t big on measuring—“taste it and decide” was basically his cooking philosophy.
  5. Cook until fork-soft
    Let everything simmer until the potatoes are tender and the sauce thickens.
  6. Finish with Joseph Farms cheese
    And he was very clear about this part: it has to be Joseph Farms cheese. Let it melt into the sauce for that creamy finish.

It’s simple. It’s comforting. It’s dad-coded.
It’s the culinary equivalent of: “I don’t cook much… but when I do, it’s this.”

And honestly?
That makes it perfect.

Posted in Bun Appétit

Before the Bacon: Frijoles de la Olla

Posted on by Eryn 🐰
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So, if you’ve read my Frijoles Charros post (aka the recipe I swore I already posted but didn’t), you already know the beans are the real heroes of the story. But before they get all dressed up with bacon, chorizo, and general flavor chaos, they start their journey here—in the pot. Literally.

Welcome to Frijoles de la Olla, which translates to beans from the pot, or as I like to call them, the calm before the charro storm.

These are your base beans: tender, brothy, and cozy enough to eat all on their own. You can serve them plain, top them with a little cheese, or (if you’re me) immediately turn them into frijoles charros before you lose focus and start reorganizing your spice rack.

You’ll Need:

  • 1 lb dried pinto beans, picked over and rinsed
  • 3 liters (12 ¾ cups) water
  • ½ medium white onion, cut into large chunks
  • 7 cloves garlic, whole and peeled
  • 1¾ tbsp lard (or oil, but lard hits different)
  • 2 fresh bay leaves
  • Sea salt, to taste

Instructions:

  1. Sort through your beans and remove any little rocks or mystery items. (Every bag of beans has at least one tiny geode in it, I swear.)
  2. Rinse them well.
  3. Soak overnight (or at least 6 hours). Give them time to process their emotions and absorb some water.
  4. In a large pot, combine the beans, water, onion, garlic, lard, and bay leaves.
  5. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. After 10 minutes, skim off any floaters—they’re not invited to this bean party.
  6. Reduce to a gentle simmer, partially cover, and let cook for about 2 hours. Stir occasionally so nobody sticks to the bottom.
  7. Check for tenderness. If they’re still firm, keep simmering another 30 minutes until they’re soft and cozy.
  8. Remove the aromatics (onion, garlic, and bay leaves) before serving or turning them into something fancier.

These beans are also the perfect base for Frijoles Charros, so if you’re feeling brave (or just hungry), go check out Bean There, Lost That: The Frijoles Charros recipe.

They’ll keep in the fridge for up to 5 days or freeze beautifully—future you will be so proud.