The internet is a wild place. Fourteen years ago, I interviewed Deb Perelman, who was then a “blogger,” as we used to call it, who ran a website called Smitten Kitchen, where she posted her recipes and experiences practicing, as she puts it, triumphant and unfussy cooking from her tiny New York kitchen.

Since then, Deb (who is a witch!) has published 3 cookbooks, launched a podcast, raised well over six figures worth of funds for World Central Kitchen, directed lots of aid to American classrooms, and made untold media appearances.

But imagine my surprise recently when I read the 2024 year-end Approval Matrix in New York Magazine and saw her Pizza Beans recipe getting graphed after it gained a fresh wave of attention because Luigi Mangione is eating them in prison. What a world.

Even before Deb’s recipe got a fresh wave of appreciation for its nutritional value, budget ingredients, deliciousness, and simple enough-to-serve-in-prison aspects, I’d been thinking anew about what I love about Deb, her cooking and writing, since Ina Garten’s memoir had just come out.

I certainly enjoy Garten’s cookbooks and persona. But while there’s a certain amount of accessibility around the Barefoot “storebought is fine” Contessa, while she’s not as frigid and inaccessible as Martha Stewart, Ina is far from relatable. She’s the Hamptons. She’s Paris. She’s fun rich neighbors and lovely dinner parties. While she cops to her marriage not being perfect, she apparently loves her husband soooooo much. And she’s childfree as a bird.

Deb, meanwhile, with her funny asides, confessions of bad moods and not-feeling-its and picky family members and her own sometimes untrendy preferences, seems like she could be your pal. She, like many of us, has dishes to wash and a family to feed, and they have their own bullshit preferences to cater to (Deb never tries to sell us a picture of her kids being incredibly sophisticated eaters, darling social media presences, or god forbid, helpful in the kitchen). She is married but doesn’t talk about how much pleasure it gives her to feed her big hungry man. Better yet, she doesn’t try to sell herself as actually being your pal. That may be one of the bonuses of starting before the age of YouTube and TikTok, that you don’t need her saying “Hi guys!” over and over again to get the feeling that she’s a presence in your kitchen.

I like that Deb and her meals don’t set out to be aspirational, aside from the aspiration of eating good food that you know can be made at home on various budgets, ingredients and energy levels. Sometimes do you want to try something aspirational, but most days, you just want to eat something good but not elaborate, healthy but not punitive. I never feel like her writing implies that I should do the cooking things I don’t (bake a lot of sweets, “cook” breakfast often, host epic dinner parties on the reg.)

And finally, Deb doesn’t take herself too seriously, as evinced by her allowing me to publish this inscription on her first cookbook that I got for free because it had a hilarious misspelling in it:

(She sent me a name plate with an actual personalized dedication it and no mention of an anus but of course I placed it elsewhere and did not cover up this perfect inscription.)

Here is a very incomplete list of some of the dishes Deb has brought into our lives:

Family favorites:

Perfect meatballs and spaghetti

Salted peanut butter cookies (five ingredients; one bowl)

Oven-braised beef with tomatoes and garlic (the easiest!)

Ultimate zucchini bread

Turkey meatloaf for skeptics (never leftovers)

Snacky asparagus (my 9-year-old can’t get enough)

Baked chicken meatballs

Zucchini strand spaghetti

Crispy oven-pulled pork

Things I make for just myself (or my friends) because my family won’t appreciate them:

Broccoli slaw

Carrot salad with tahini, crisped chickpeas, and salted pistachios

Brussels sprouts, apple and pomegranate salad

Baby wedge salad with avocado and pickled onions

Mediterranean pepper salad

Sweet potato salad with pepita dressing

Barley and corn salad with arugula and haricot vert

Kale salad with pecorino and walnuts

Quick zucchini saute

Mediterranean baked feta with tomatoes

Spinach sheet pan quiche

If you love Deb’s recipes too, please share some of your/your family’s standbys in the comments.

Kitchen don’t

I am big mad at this Le Creuset stock pot (not the cast iron Dutch oven) because while I have tolerated the enamel steadily chipping off over the years, this week was the final straw when a piece of the enamel chipped off into the drain without my noticing. It sliced my finger deep when I emptied the trap. Don’t fall for the Le Creuset hype and get its stock pot! Get a humble plain one that won’t try to destroy you.

Anyway, if you want to revisit a fun witches issue a while back on good/bad wedding registry items, go here.

End credits

Thanks for reading Evil Witches, a newsletter for people who happen to be mothers. Our archives live here. Oh, here is a post that I thought at the time was a bit of a throwaway where I dunked on misunderstood billionaire Nicole Shanahan because she got a weird normalizing soft-soap to People Magazine to spread the good word that she’s actually just a caring mom. She commented on the post and emailed me personally to be like, “Hey what’s up with this?” We had a pretty nice email exchange and I apologized for being snarky. Anyway, now that she’s threatening Senators who don’t vote to confirm her running mate, RFK Jr, I feel less remorseful about picking on her in this little newsletter. Anyway, get your kids vaccinated and enjoy that fluoride while you can, American witches.

Unrelated to RFK Jr. or his purse strings, if you’ve reached “I gotta do something but what” levels of this current administration, we have an Evil Witches fundraiser cooking for the Trevor Project to help support LGBTQ+ kids. 🏳️‍⚧️ 🏳️‍🌈

Anyway, like this newsletter? Find any part of it amusing or helpful? Please consider becoming a paid subscriber. You support this work and get access to extra special content like members-only chats and last week’s issue on disappearing labia (speaking of science).

One witchy thing

A text my friend got from her 12 year old while he was being babysat by a nice young lady and his mom was at a fun grownup party: