Salt, Ink, & Soul
Writing on food, family, and identity
“I write so that our food, our struggles, and our stories are never forgotten, but carried forward as legacy.”
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Felix the Fox Collection
Gentle adventures from the Whispering Woods — stories of courage, friendship, and resilience for children, and for the adults who read beside them.
Latest Post
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U2’s The Joshua Tree: When Pop Music Reached for Something Higher
It’s not supposed to feel this deep. It’s pop. It’s not supposed to carry this much weight, not supposed to stir this much longing. Pop is supposed to be light. Easy. Disposable. Something you hum along to in the car, something that moves through you without leaving a mark. No one told U2 that. Or
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So It’s Me and Cake Again
A Reflection on Pound Cake, Memory, and Soul There’s something quiet and personal about returning to a kitchen after a small failure. You remember the last time—how it crumbled, how you forgot the parchment, how it fell apart before it ever came together. But you also remember the taste, the intention, and the lesson. That’s
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A Place to Sit Still: Birthday Reflections, Burgers, and Becoming Social Again
Last night, I went out. Not on the day of, my birthday had come and gone, as I’d hoped it would, quiet and unbothered. But I’ve learned that the people in my life now don’t take kindly to silence. They don’t take “I’m okay” at face value. They don’t let me disappear the way I
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Anywhere but Nowhere: On Driving While Black in the Land of the Free
I own a nice vehicle. The kind that hugs the road like a whisper and hums like it knows where it’s going. It’s the kind of SUV that should be free. Built for long stretches of empty highway and distant horizons. But it sits mostly still. It idles in the garage. It moves through town
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The Echo I Didn’t Expect: Kendrick, Taylor, and the Sound Between the Lines
First, let me say this plainly: I am a Kendrick Lamar fan. Not the surface kind. Not the playlist kind. The kind who listens to the whole album, in order, Who waits for the videos. Who digs through lyrics like scripture, pausing, rewinding, sitting with bars like they were written for my memory alone. His music
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Can’t Slow Down: Lionel Richie and the Memory That Belongs to Me
I did, in fact, listen to Can’t Slow Down again. But the truth is, I didn’t need to. The moment the first notes played, it was less about sound and more about memory. Because there are albums that remind you of a time, and then there are albums that are the time. This one didn’t gently carry me back.
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