Mesquite shortbread cookies with pecans, partially dipped in dark chocolate.
I’ve been baking and cooking with mesquite lately. It’s an ingredient you don’t see on many menus or listed in recipes except as wood used for burning meat. As a wood, it imbues an aroma and smoky flavor you’d associate with a campfire or a grill. That savory, romantic smell of open flame alone is part of the reason many pitmasters pair it with apple and cherry woods.
But mesquite has a much longer history as an edible food. Across the Sonoran Desert, Indigenous communities have harvested not only the wood from the trees but also the pods, drying them and grinding them into flour for thousands of years. That flour was mixed with water or fat and baked into tortillas, bread, or porridge. Mesquite flour isn’t meant to be used as a substitute for wheat. Because it’s derived from a tree pod, it’s grainy in a way that feels closer to rough-hewn corn or barley than sugar. It works best when blended with another flour, such as almond.
I decided to try my hand at gluten-free shortbread made with mesquite. I paired it with almond flour, folded in pecans, and dipped it in melted dark chocolate. Pecans feel like a natural choice. They’re the only nut native to North America and appear across Indigenous, Mexican, and American kitchens. Cacao, indigenous to Mexico and the Amazon, adds another layer, chocolate, to the cookie. Shortbread made sense because it’s traditional and feels like a holiday, and it doesn’t need frosting or messy sprinkles to contend with. This cookie relies on butter and balance, creating a sturdy texture that holds up to being dipped in chocolate.
When they are finished, they make a good Santa treat. How could the jolly man, after squeezing himself down a Tucson chimney, covered in Sonoran dirt, not find joy with these and a glass of milk?
I like mesquite – I’m using it in sauces too – because it connects Indigenous foodways, Mexican culture, and the American Borderlands kitchen that absorbed both, often without being acknowledged.
Did I say these were gluten-free?
Mesquite shortbread cookies with pecans, dipped in chocolate. (Gluten-free) Makes about 24 cookies
Ingredients
1 cup almond flour 1/3 cup mesquite flour 1/4 cup powdered sugar 1/4 teaspoon fine salt 1/2 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/2 cup finely chopped pecans 4 ounces dark chocolate, chopped
Instructions
Heat the oven to 325°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a bowl, whisk together the almond flour, mesquite flour, powdered sugar, and salt.
Add the butter and work it in with your fingers or a pastry cutter until the mixture looks like coarse sand and holds together when pressed.
Stir in the vanilla, then fold in the pecans. If the dough feels dry, add 1–2 teaspoons of cold water.
Roll out the dough so it’s about a quarter inch thick, then cut it into. Cut into rectangles for a classic shortbread shape, then place them on the baking sheet. Repeat the process with the remaining dough.
Bake for 14–16 minutes, until set and just lightly golden at the edges. Let cool completely.
Melt the chocolate gently. Dip half of each cookie into the chocolate, then return it to the parchment to set. You can even paint the chocolate onto the cookie with the back of a spoon – which is what I did. I tried dipping a couple of times, but found the cookie broke under the weight. I didn’t wait for the cookie to cool completely.
Aside: Because mesquite flour is naturally sweet, it doesn’t need additional sugar. These keep well for several days and freeze well, both as a dough and as a finished product.
Leftovers
Local: Tucson Foodie reported that brothers Erick and Jose Quintero have opened Kintoki Sushi House & Bar in the former El Berraco space on North First Avenue, bringing a modern sushi concept with subtle Latin influences to a longtime neighborhood location. The restaurant, which opened Dec. 5, retains the building’s recognizable exterior while introducing a new menu of sushi, small plates and cocktails, keeping the cultural focus of the brothers’ Tucson ties.
Regional: According to KJZZ, winter vegetable growers in southwestern Arizona are preparing for another uncertain season as water constraints and rising input costs continue to pressure food production in the Sonoran Desert. The Yuma region, which supplies a majority of the nation’s leafy greens during the winter months, remains heavily dependent on Colorado River allocations, even as short-term conservation agreements provide some stability. Growers say labor costs, transportation expenses and long-term water security remain key concerns heading into 2026.
National: Labor shortages across U.S. agriculture are continuing to strain the food supply chain, with growers warning that limited access to workers could reduce output and contribute to higher food prices, according to national trade publication, FreshPlaza.
Nick and I will have been in Tucson for a little over two months by the time I publish this post. While I often mention what I’ve done and where I’ve been, and, of course, what I eat, I try to keep things that are really important to me private. Sometimes, I leave Nick out. Not because I don’t want to share about him, but I believe I honor our life together by not sharing it with everyone. I also feel that way about my friendships. Sometimes, I post about them, but in this day and age of oversharing, I don’t want to share everything.
But, oddly, kismet–happenstance–luck happened before Nick, and I arrived in the Sonoran Desert. Thus, I believe this warrants a blog post.
Unbeknownst to me, Kim, the former food editor for the now-defunct Cottage Living, which published from 2004 to 2008, and I worked together on a series of stories in Napa Valley. We became friendly as journalists and media relations people do. You spend hours – sometimes, days working beside journalists, helping keep clients on message, ensuring control over what your client may or may not say and in general, guiding both with helpful information. On one such venture, Kim stayed with me in San Francisco once, and another time, when I first got sober, she stayed with me in West Hollywood while she was on her memoir tour for Trail of Crumbs. Admittedly, I was a bit of a mess – my world imploded. I realized that those whom I thought cared about me – indeed, said they loved me – had thrown me to the wolves, in front of an oncoming train, under a bus and facing an avalanche.
Kim and me in her Tucson backyard
Kim moved to Alaska with her then-new husband. When Kim said to me about moving to Anchorage, I replied, “They don’t even grow basil there!” (They do, but that’s not the point I was making. Luckily, she laughed.) I floundered about until I met Nick and continued to be a fish out of water until – truthfully, until we decided to move to Southern Arizona.
We didn’t stay in touch except maybe with our social media posts. In September, she posts something about moving to Tucson – and I reply, “No way! We are moving there too!” As a couple, they have been together for 15 years, almost as long as I’ve been sober. Nick and I bought a home in a developing neighborhood about 7 miles south of the entrance to Saguaro National Park. Our commutes to the grocery store and shopping pass through undulating mountain ranges and saguaros – desert sentinels, really – standing as tall as a four-story building.
We’ve spent time together now – the four of us eating magnificent meals cooked by Kim overlooking the Tucson Valley basin from her new home with Neil. If the desert can bring a longtime friend into the fold, perhaps it’s the Sonoran Desert telling us that this is home.
Tepary beans are native to the Sonoran Desert, which extends into Mexico from Arizona. It’s been cultivated by the indigenous peoples for more than 4,000 years and is drought-resistant, owing to its prevalence in the region’s foodways. When cooked, it’s sweet, if not a little sugary, a bit nutty too and stays firm. I bought these at Mission Gardens, a four-acre agricultural museum that showcases the heirloom crops grown in the Sonoran Desert for thousands of years.
Black bean tepary hummus with cotija cheese
Black Tepary Bean Hummus
This version keeps the ingredients minimal, so you will find a sugariness. It has a deeper, more complex flavor than chickpea hummus and a gorgeous dark color that photographs beautifully.
Ingredients
1 ½ cups dried tepary beans
2 tablespoons tahini
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1–2 cloves garlic, minced
½ teaspoon ground cumin
½ teaspoon salt, more to taste
¼ cup of cold water (to thin)
A pinch of chiltepin or red pepper flakes
A drizzle of chile oil
A squeeze of lime instead of lemon
Instructions
To begin, soak the tepary beans for at least 24 hours. They take a very long time to cook. I have found that they need at least 10 hours on the stove at a gentle simmer. I also add salt, pepper, a garlic clove and a bay to the water. Keep testing a bean or two until soft.
In a food processor, combine the tepary beans, tahini, olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, cumin and salt.
Add ¼ cup of cold water at a time until the smooth texture to your liking. Tepary beans make hummus thicker, so continue adding a little water until the desired consistency is reached. Adjust seasoning as needed.
Add more salt, lemon or garlic as needed. If you’re using chiltepin or chile oil, add it now.
Spoon into a serving bowl, drizzle with more olive oil and finish with your optional Tucson flourish.
Paddle cactus at Mission Gardens
LEFTOVERS
LOCAL
Café Maggie, according to Tucson Foodie, a popular Fourth Avenue spot known for coffee, sandwiches, and a collegial atmosphere, has closed after an equipment failure and ongoing financial strain.
REGIONAL
KTAR News reported that Michelin Guides will now cover the Southwest. It will include Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada and Utah.
NATIONAL
The James Beard Foundation announced new criteria for its 2026 Awards, placing greater emphasis on community impact, wage transparency, and equitable workplace culture. While culinary excellence remains central, nominees will now be required to show documented commitments to fair labor practices. Bon Appétit did a beautiful story on Tucson. I wish I had the chance to write it. Bummed.
Interior of Wildflower, Sam Fox’s first restaurantSmoked salmon and potato pancake
How a Newcomer to the Southwest Dips His Toes into the Holiday Festive Glaze.
When Nick and I picked Tucson as (hopefully) our final move and — yes, our last destination — I knew I didn’t have a clear picture of Tucson’s Indigenous ingredients or the region’s complex food history, even after living on both U.S. coasts and in seven cities. Tucson, also known as the Old Pueblo, is full of gastronomical history, indeed the country’s oldest, going back nearly four centuries. In comparison, I’ve spent years writing about ingredients, cooking techniques, and chefs in their kitchens, and I’ve felt confident in my descriptions and use of both gluten-free and non-gluten-free ingredients. Living in the Sonoran Desert is making me realize my usual approach doesn’t apply here.
This Tucson gluten-free almond cake came out of that intention — something simple, something I could bake without fuss, but still tasting like the Sonoran Desert brushing up against my kitchen. Hibiscus for tang and color, citrus for brightness, almonds for body. It’s the kind of dessert that lets the region show up without trying too hard.
Tucson isn’t a “farm-to-table” town in the way the Midwest is. It’s much older than that. What you see in markets and farmers’ markets traces back to Indigenous farming methods that have been here long before the United States existed. Tepary beans. Mesquite. Chiltepin. The three sisters — corn, squash and beans. Sonoran white wheat. These are foods created by people who figured out how to thrive in arid conditions, stark heat and scarcity, including long periods of drought. Yet, they managed to build a culinary region with depth.
I’ve certainly not used many of the new ingredients I’m surrounded by, such as the beans or nopales. Instead of asking myself, “What’s seasonal?” I’m now asking no one but me, “What survived here, continues to grow and why?” It creates a different way of viewing local Ingredients. And, these, of course, carry stories as well as the people who cultivate them, too.
I’ve also been reading how longtime Tucson restaurants have done this work. Wildflower, native Tucsonan and restaurant impresario Sam Fox’s first restaurant, manages to highlight the region without leaning on trends. No doubt you know his Culinary Dropout or Flower Child, and the selling of his empire to the Cheesecake Factory netted him $800 million. It opened more than two decades ago and still draws a regular clientele because it balances a sense of place with a contemporary atmosphere: no adobe wall or cactus but a well-lit, sexy space. The menu changes enough to keep new and old customers happy, but you’ll always find something tied to the desert, such as mesquite, squash, cinnamon and Oaxaca cheese.
So, I’m trying to cook with the foods that matter to my new home. I’m buying mesquite flour. I’m reading up on tepary beans. I’m reaching for chiltepin instead of the usual red pepper flakes. And I’m letting Tucson teach me to look at food from a different, more inclusive perspective.
This week’s recipe is an almond cake with cinnamon, covered in a “pretty in pink” hibiscus glaze, which isn’t ancient or Indigenous. But it uses items such as almond flour (while wild desert almonds can be made into a flour—this Bob’s Red Mill almond flour), hibiscus, an edible flower found throughout the Southwest, and cinnamon, brought to the region in the 16th century by the Spanish. It tastes sweet and right while showcasing the beauty of where I’m living now. It’s easy, with hints of sweet floral notes and pantry ingredients I have on hand – except the hibiscus syrup. (You can find that online or at specialty stores like AJ Fine Foods. It’s where I purchased mine.) And sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge the food where you moved, combined with familiar elements that you know.
Importantly, it’s festive enough for the holidays.
Almond Cake with Cinnamon and Hibiscus Glaze
Serves 8
Ingredients
1 ½ cups almond flour
½ cup white rice flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 large eggs, room temperature
⅓ cup neutral oil (avocado, canola, grapeseed)
½ cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup milk or a milk alternative
Hibiscus Glaze
• ½ cup powdered sugar • 2 to 3 tablespoons hibiscus syrup (adjust to taste and thickness) • A gentle squeeze of fresh orange juice for brightness (Optional)
Directions
Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease an 8-inch round cake pan and line the bottom with parchment.
Whisk the dry ingredients together in a medium bowl: almond flour, rice flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon.
In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs, oil, sugar, vanilla, and milk until smooth.
Combine the wet and dry ingredients. Mix until just blended. The batter will be slightly thick.
Pour into your prepared pan and smooth the top.
Bake for 22 to 28 minutes, or until the center is set and a toothpick comes out clean.
Cool completely before glazing.
Make the glaze: whisk the powdered sugar with hibiscus syrup until it reaches a pourable consistency. Add lime juice if using.
Drizzle glaze over the cooled cake. Let it sit for at least 15 minutes before slicing.
LEFTOVERS
Local: Tucson Tucson’s KGUN reports that the MSA Annex at Tucson’s Mercado District continues to grow, adding two new food spots to its westside lineup. BŌS Burger opened with Japanese-leaning Wagyu smash burgers and katsu-style sandwiches, while Hidden Hearth Bakery started serving whole-grain, fresh-milled breads in late November.
Regional: Arizona and the Southwest According to The Glendale Star, A 16-year-old was hospitalized after visiting the fair on Oct. 26. She and several others say the illness began after petting pigs at the fair’s zoo.
National: The USDA Economic Research Service says food prices in the United States will continue to rise in 2026. The agency’s latest Food Price Outlook projects an increase over all food categories of about 2.7 percent next year, with grocery costs climbing roughly 1.2 percent and restaurant prices up an estimated 3.3 percent. The forecast states that uncertainty remains high, driven by tariffs and climate-related disruptions.
A move from Indianapolis to Tucson reshapes our holiday season and inspires a Sonoran sweet potato and green chile gratin.
We thought we had two more years in Indianapolis. Two more winters of fall-back clock changes, farmers’ market routines, and knowing exactly where to find good greens or a reliable gluten-free loaf for the poultry stuffing. But as we know, life doesn’t exist for our specific timelines. Instead of a nice, slow transition, we decided to pack up boxes, say as many goodbyes as our last month in Indy would allow and drive southwest toward Tucson. The move to the Old Pueblo felt like stepping back into a familiar space – Nick and I had lived in Phoenix for a year and, of course, Palm Springs, which has a similar weather pattern: warm, arid and dry, with occasional heavy rain. Tucson, though, feels safer than both. More diverse and friendly, perhaps it’s due to the Indigenous and Mexican cultures, which lean heavily into their foodways.
Thanksgiving is next week, and we are still getting into our familiar patterns. Back in the Midwest, the holiday always had a specific blueprint, as it had over the last 12 years of our relationship. Nick makes the turkey, and I would cook everything else, including the cheesecake. It’s usually the two of us and occasionally someone else. Last year, we had Tanya, a longtime New York City friend who moved up from Nashville. This year, we will have some of Nick’s cousins who live in Phoenix, Bill and Anne and possibly the new neighbors – Collen and Greg – our Lucy and Ricky, to our Fred and Ethel.
Moving sooner than expected shifted everything. We’re still figuring out which grocery stores offer the best deals – especially in this challenging economy – where to walk Betsy and Rufus, and how to create a neighborhood in our builder community.
This Tucson Thanksgiving wasn’t the one we planned at the beginning of 2025 – we also didn’t plan on losing George – but we have Betsy for Rufus.
If you are looking for a change of scenery other than your kitchen stove, bring friends and family to the newly opened Redbird at Sam Hughes. It offers something for everyone and a great local back story. Located in the historic, former Rincon Market building, the restaurant opened in September and appeals to everyone with seemingly little effort, but most likely requires more than most. The former grocery outlet, which had been part of the area for almost a century, has been divided into two spaces, and Redbird Scratch Kitchen + Bar “flits” right into it, meaning it’s the kind of restaurant that feels cared for because the people running it care.
Pretty much everything is made from scratch: sauces, dressings, and marinades. The only exceptions are the gluten-free hamburger buns and waffle fries, which are bought from a wholesaler. Think of Redbird as a place to hang out, watching sports in a creative atmosphere with someone else doing all the cooking, such as tacos, wings and burgers. They also have a house-made black bean burger for the vegetarians in the group. Another great touch: they offer a hot towel to clean off their hands at the end of the meal. The first time I saw this was at a high-end resort in Bali. I asked Sergio Pinon, one of the owners and general managers, about this amenity. He basically said they saw it at a luxury property and wanted it at Redbird.
It offers coziness and the aromas of the Sonoran Desert as soon as you walk in, but the neighborly atmosphere of a “Cheers” bar. Sometimes it’s enough to sit in a place that welcomes you without hesitation, especially when you’re still figuring out what it means to belong in a new city.
I
Sonoran Chile and Sweet Potato Gratin
This is a dish that bridges both worlds. It nods to the Midwest—where casseroles anchor every gathering—but pulls its warmth from Tucson. Roasted Hatch or Anaheim chiles replace the traditional green bean casserole’s heaviness, and sweet potatoes stand in for richer autumn sides. It’s comforting, regional, and quietly celebratory.
Ingredients
• 2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced • 2 Hatch or Anaheim chiles, roasted, peeled, seeded, and chopped • 1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced • 2 cloves garlic, minced • 1 cup heavy cream • 1 cup whole milk • 1 teaspoon smoked paprika • 1 teaspoon ground cumin • ½ teaspoon Mexican oregano • Salt and pepper to taste • 1½ cups grated asadero Oaxaca or Chihuahua. If you can’t find these cheeses, substitute Monterey Jack or a mild white cheddar • Olive oil for sautéing
Instructions
Heat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter a medium baking dish (about 9 x 9).
In a skillet, heat up the of olive oil. Sauté the onions until soft and lightly browned. Add in the garlic and cook for another minute.
Stir in the chopped roasted chiles, then season with smoked paprika, cumin, Mexican oregano, salt, and pepper. Remove from heat.
In a small saucepan, warm the cream and milk together until just steaming. Don’t boil.
Layer half the sweet potatoes into the baking dish. Scatter half of the chile-onion mixture over the top. Add a handful of the cheese.
Repeat with the remaining sweet potatoes, chile mixture, and cheese.
Pour the warmed cream and milk mixture over the potatoes.
Cover with foil. Bake for 30 minutes. Remove the foil and then bake another 20–25 minutes or until the top has turned a lovely brown, bubbly and the potatoes are tender.
Let it rest for 10 minutes to allow the layers to settle.
When you pack up your life and start over somewhere new, you think about the job, the weather, the cost of living, and finding a community. When Nick and I moved to Tucson, a city framed by the Sonoran Desert and celebrated for its food culture, I didn’t expect to miss my grocery store so much.
After six years in Indianapolis, I knew where to buy the best gluten-free baked goods (Gluten Free Creations), which great butcher (Moody’s) to buy meat, and which farmers market stand (Warfield Cottage) sold the best greens. Moving to Tucson meant trading the Midwest’s cornfields for the desert’s cactus, and where much of the food is born of Mexican and Indigenous ingredients, even an easy meal of rice and beans felt like an introduction to another language.
There is no doubt that moving from one state to another changes the way you eat. In Indiana, I cooked broths and experimented with braising, especially during the fall, winter and early spring, eating warm, stewy dishes. Here, I think more about citrus, chilies, and beans. Dinners are full of flavors that make up the region: mesquite, nopales, prickly pear, and the “three sisters” comprised of corn, beans, and squash. Now our pantry will be stocked with dried chiles and freshly made corn tortillas, replacing the hoarded Red Gold pasta sauce of my Hoosier days.
The relocation isn’t only about ingredients; it’s about discovering a community. For Nick and me, it’s how we find and make friends. In our first week in our new home, we joined our next-door neighbors, Greg and Colleen, at La Frida’s Mexican Grill, a charming, well-designed spot located on East 22nd Street with a painterly mural honoring the late artist. The meal started with a basket of chips and — surprise — jalapeño crema (instead of salsa) for dipping, touched with habanero. Zesty, rich, and impossible to stop eating. Alongside it came an additional four sauces to try: salsa verde, black refried beans, a smoky coloradito, and a deep, chocolatey mole. The chef, originally from Hermosillo, cooks with an appreciation for her birthplace and presents dishes in a hearty, picturesque manner: deep browns, rich greens, and sauces with royal crimson overtone. We had a variety of dishes, but the quesabirra, historically from Tijuana and developed by the region’s taqueros, had that buttery crunch with tender meat, salty creaminess from the cheese and that rich flavor from the consommé for dipping. The corn ribs, quartered and eaten off the cob, smeared with cotija, were a reminder of how delicious street food can be. We arrived at 4:00 p.m. and by the time we left two hours later, it felt like the whole of Tucson was waiting for a table.
In every move I’ve made — Los Angeles, San Francisco, Irvine, Palm Springs, New York City, Indianapolis, now Tucson — I’ve learned that the fastest way to feel at home is through its restaurants and markets. Each city teaches you its flavors, and Tucson shows the earthiness of Sonoran wheat tortillas, the char on a roasted green pepper, and the comfort of beans simmering away on the stove. These are image postcards tattooed into my memory banks that will last longer than any logo t-shirt ever will. Indeed, Tucson’s UNESCO City of Gastronomy status only reinforces the idea that what we eat tells the story of who and where we are.
In the freezer, there’s still a loaf of gluten-free bread from Native Bread Company in Indianapolis. I slice and toast it on mornings when I miss the Midwest. It’s that heady scent of bread, with a smear of local prickly pear jam bridging my recent past to today in a way no moving truck can.
What we eat when we move isn’t just about adapting to a new market or menu. It’s about creating continuity. The table’s location may change, but the act of sitting down, of being fed and feeding others, remains constant.
But in a short time, here in the Old Pueblo, I’ve found that the desert’s vastness, beauty and indigenous ingredients are finding a way into my kitchen. As I’ve said before, moving isn’t about leaving something behind. It’s about eating and discovering what’s next.
Recipe: Prickly Pear and Lime Agua Fresca
Makes 2 quarts
• 2 cups prickly pear puree (fresh or bottled)
• Juice from 3 limes
• 4 cups cold water
• 2 tablespoons agave syrup (more to taste)
• Dash of sea salt
Whisk or blend all ingredients until smooth. Taste and adjust the sweetness. Chill for at least 30 minutes. Serve over ice with a sprig of mint or a lime slice. While this is a simple beverage, it tastes like the Sonoran Desert, which I think of as being bright, sweet, and restorative. If you’re feeling festive, add a touch of rum, tequila, or vodka.
A year of eating throughout Indiana and what it taught me about community.
I often think about the delicious six years I’ve spent exploring Indiana food. My path crossed many food folks and chefs, including Rachel Firestone and Samir Mohammed at 9th Street Bistro, as well as Zoe Taylor and Josh Kline at Borage. I ran into Shadow Lounge’s Chef Tia Wilson at one of the local markets one day and, the next, watched Jonathan Brooks man the line at Beholder. One of my favorite stories was seeing Burgeezy’s Kadeesha and Antonine Wiggins grow their dream business. Of course, there is pizza and Diavola may serve the best Neopolitan pie in all of Indy, in my humble opinion.
Some editors took notice, giving me a platform to write about food: Culinary Crossroads’ Jolene Katzenberger, former Edible Indy owner Jennifer Rubinstein, current publisher Adam Grubb and, of course, Indianapolis Monthly’s Eve Batey and Andrea Ratcliffe. Through them, I found a voice focused on Midwestern cuisine, especially as it relates to identity and immigration. But it also showed me something more profound: that food entrepreneurs create a sense of community wherever they are.
While I genuinely love fine-dining, destination experiences, it’s the local neighborhood spots that bring people together—whether over coffee, drinks, or dinner—that make communities thrive. Gather 22, for instance, with its hammocks and generous outdoor space, does that beautifully, along with its tasty bites. What Adam Reinstrom and Pablo Gonzalez have created — part restaurant and adult playground — is nothing short of remarkable.
This is only a partial list of what I ate this year. I’m eternally grateful to Culinary Crossroads’ Larry Dickerson for allowing me to travel all over Indiana during the course of my three years writing for them. After visiting nearly 100 towns and hamlets throughout the state, I’ve come to understand how both historians and restaurateurs have shaped the Midwest’s culinary history and, importantly, how interconnected the region truly is.
It’s not that my time in Indiana has come to an end. I’m working on a cookbook project that is part Midwestern history and part chef-driven stories from across the region, which I hope to see published next year. I also like to think that I’m evolving, which is vital to my well-being.
While some people go to concerts, shop, watch IMAX, or attend large-scale sporting events, spending their hard-earned wages – and yes, any work today is hard-earned – I head to a locally owned restaurant or a farmers’ market. By doing so, my partner and I give back to the communities we live in. That’s important to the region’s economic health and vitality.
Last word: Writing about food, I can’t be tone-deaf to how nearly 40 million people will suffer without SNAP benefits. My childhood was marked by food insecurity and hunger. My mother raised me alone, stretching a meager salary that never went far enough. She tried really hard, but there were days when the sharp pain in my stomach could only be eased by water. Despite paying taxes on her modest income, she could never get ahead. It was systemic gender bias at work: no matter how hard she pushed, the system pushed back harder. I’m seeing this play out again; it’s always the hard workers who only want to raise families who suffer at the hands of the big corporate powers.
Chefs Erin Kem and Logan McMahan reimagined the venerable Tony and Rosa Hanslits’ Nicole-Taylor Pasta and Market, which had been an emporium focused on Italy, into a mostly vegetarian cafe and retail experience. What they do with simple ingredients is on full display with a roasted kombucha squash, caramelized and seasoned with restraint, which showed me how Indiana produce can shine when treated with respect.
1134 East 54th Street, Studio C, Indianapolis, IN 46220
In Oldenburg, a small-town gripping tightly to its German Catholic heritage, Wagner’s has been feeding generations with its four-ingredient, family-style fried chicken. Crisp skin, juicy meat, and it makes it a southern Indiana tradition worth the drive. The James Beard Foundation even awarded it for Classic American. It’s one of those honors that tries to extend an olive branch to communities often dismissed in the cosmopolitan food world. Regardless, the eatery and the hamlet have a history and a sense of place, with church spires casting shadows over two-hundred-year-old cobblestone streets, and the highly seasoned chicken is pretty good.
Chefs Zoe Taylor and Josh Kline created an homage to Midwestern food at their restaurant, cafe and market. They elevated their dream business to something beyond nostalgia, transforming it into a refined yet rustic experience that stays true to their regional roots. Sometimes, in their deft hands, childhood treats become both nostalgic and refined. At the bakery, the gluten-free Pop-Tarts — technically made by their pastry chef Rachel de Masi — change with the seasons and serve as proof that playful baking can be serious food. I’ve often written about the duo and profiled them for Edible Indy, my last story for that publication.
I was on one of my small-town Culinary Crossroads travel excursions and decided to swing by Smokey’s Concession Stand. It was early on Friday, and a crowd was already seated at the bar. While some people say not to ask the server—or, in this case, the bartender—what’s good, I often do. A restaurant worker will honestly tell me what they prefer — and I, being a former dishwasher and waitperson who believes in excellent customer service, will point you in the right direction. The bartender recommended the smoked Reuben, which featured house-smoked corned beef that raised the bar. The smoke clung to each slice, balanced by tangy kraut and melted Swiss. It reminded me how a sandwich can be just as transportive as a tasting menu.
Kokomo may be best known for auto manufacturing, but tucked into one of its Korean restaurants, I found japchae that took me to another continent. Sweet potato noodles, sesame oil, and vegetables created a plate that was comforting and unexpected in central Indiana. It’s hard to find great Asian food in this part of the country, but this was one of the best noodle dishes without having to fly to Seoul. It was also part of a destination piece I wrote for Indianapolis Monthly.
Inside the Alexander Hotel, Nesso delivers an upscale Italian coastal dining experience under the direction of recently appointed Chef Zach Szabo. He’s a transplant from D.C, and brings “glam Italian” to the Midwest, meaning rustic yet refined. An example was a special item: Hokkaido scallop crudo, bright, clean, delicate, citrusy and with a hint of heat. It was a dish that felt worldly without crossing the Atlantic. It was mastery of crudo, with thin rounds of the mollusk in a sauce meant for slurping.
South Bend is emerging as its own dining scene, and Roselilly, with its chef-owner Eamonn McParland, is at its center. The AAA four-diamond dining experience is one of two in town, which is also home to the University of Notre Dame. He created a tasting menu, and his sweet pea agnolotti, part of the experience, captured the freshness of spring in tender pasta pockets that were both delicate and celebratory.
701 South Main Street, South Bend, IN 46601
(574) 347-4560
Fried Pork Tenderloin at The Tin Plate, Elwood
Fried pork tenderloin at the Tin plate
The breaded tenderloin has long been considered Indiana’s official sandwich. And, truthfully, like many people, I love breaded, fried meats (chicken-fried steak, chicken tenders, fish and chips anyone?), but it’s not that unique. However, the version at The Tin Plate in Elwood — while not unique — made me a convert. The pork is pounded thin but not too thin, and then fried to a golden brown, retaining juiciness rather than a dry puck, which can happen without brining. Like a soft-brimmed hat, it flopped over the sides of the bun. It was a taste of pure Midwest and Hoosier comfort. I also loved the fact that Elwood is home to Red Gold Tomatoes. While the canning company is not related to the German-inspired pork tenderloin, add some sauce and fresh mozzarella and you have pork cutlet parmigiana.
Noblesville’s 9th Street Bistro is intimate in size but ambitious in flavor. Husband-and-wife team Samir Mohammed and Rachel Firestone created a well-thought-out small-town bistro in the heart of Noblesville, half a block from the town square. It’s one of the places you would find in a European hamlet, owned and operated by the same family for decades, sewn into the community fabric. The pork and foie gras meatloaf is an indulgent, warm dish —essentially a country pâté heated rather than served cold—that marries Midwestern comfort with French luxury. It is proof that, even in a small town, with this duo at the helm, grand tastes can fly without pretension.
Various gluten-free pastries at the Amp Farmers Market by Lydia Bootz Armstong
Exploring Non-Vegan, Gluten Free Bakeries in Indianapolis
People make much of eating gluten-free, calling it a lifestyle choice or making those who adhere to the diet change as if it isn’t a necessity. If you feel better, no matter how deep the condition goes, eating wheat-free can feel like a relief from getting rid of what ails you. Everyone — hopefully — can eat almond, tapioca, rice, potato, corn, sorghum or buckwheat flour, but not everyone can eat wheat.
For us – my partner, who has celiac, and I — we adhere to a GF diet because there is no choice. Eating alternative flour is the only way to go. However, we still want and crave butter and sugar, whether brown or the bad-for-you white. As such, I’m always looking for baked sweets that deliver with richness and decadence. The great thing about cooking with other types of flour is they add another layer of taste and deliciousness to an otherwise standard chocolate chip cookie or apple fritter.
I took it upon myself to showcase gluten-free bakeries in Indianapolis and those that create good old pastries made with alternative flour and lots of butter and sugar. I selected these specific bakers because they have a storefront, except for one.
These Indianapolis-based gluten-free bakeries prove that living without gluten doesn’t mean sacrificing anything. In truth, those who don’t know the difference could never tell if it was from wheat or cassava, and that’s a good thing. From the inclusivity of No Label at The Table to the luxurious The Cake Bake Shop, these bakers prove that gluten-free allows everyone to eat cake.
Aspasia Bakery
Baked goods at Zionsville-based Aspacia Bakery
Located on the border of Zionsville in a newly developed strip mall resides Aspasia Bakery, which opened in 2022. It’s a treasure trove for those seeking gluten-free baked goods made with butter and sugar and those seeking dairy and nut-free goods. Named after an ancient female Greek philosopher, owners Eva and Jeff Tomlinson built a charming restaurant that features breakfast through light supper items. For freshly made dinner rolls, brownies, or a scone, alt flour Aspacia offers a full array of goods. Like the Green Mermaid, it also has a drive-through for coffee and lattes. Special orders and shipping are available, too.
Various pastries and goods at No Label at The Table, Carmel
Plopped in the Carmel Arts District, No Label at The Table marries a gluten-free mission with a staff of individuals on the autism spectrum. That’s right; this bakery, created by Shelly Henley, which announced its opening in 2017, was for her son Jacob, who is on the autism spectrum. It began as an opportunity for him to become a chef and have a purpose. Still, it’s all about the delicious goods made in this no-frills space. Customers will find roasted garlic boules, doughnuts, cornbread sausage stuffing, hash brown casseroles and desserts, such as take-and-bake pies, cookies and cupcakes. Be aware that it’s dairy-free, too—lots of sugar, but no butter.
Since 2016, Native Bread has specialized in small-batch baking, creating loaves and pastries with impeccable texture and taste. From classic sourdough to focaccia and olive – and, importantly, burger buns (Do you know the difficulty in finding great GF buns?) – each product loaf is crafted using carefully selected ingredients. Made in the carry out on kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked bread hits individuals divinely.
Head south to Franklin for 1823 Bakehouse, where everything on the menu is 100% gluten-free. Known for seasonal goods, the bakery makes everything from scratch using butter and sugar unless noted otherwise. Mornings can begin with their buttery biscuit egg sandwich or banana bread. We were finally able to eat a Hoosier sugar cream bite. Instead of a pie, it’s about a two-chomp sweet experience. They even have biscuits and gravy, chicken pot pie and a French Toast bake pan to-go. While they serve coffee, 1823 Bakehouse has a large selection of loose-leaf teas.
Gluten Free Chocolate Popcorn Cake at The Cake Bake Shop in Broad Ripple
Gwendolyn Rodgers’s The Cake Bake Shop is a Disney-fied bakery. Pink frills and swans, latticework and curlicues create a childlike atmosphere. While not exclusively gluten-free, the bakery offers plenty of options for those avoiding gluten. When we first moved to the area, I ordered a carrot cake for Nick’s birthday. It was an expensive endeavor, but the confection was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful presentations we’ve ever had—and delicious creamed butter and sugar.
Their gluten-free chocolate cake is decadent, while their jewel-toned French macarons and brownies are perfect for any occasion.
Address: 6515 Carrollton Ave, Indianapolis, IN 46220
Lydia Bootz Armstrong of Gluten Free Creations has made my birthday cakes for the last four years. Even though she doesn’t have a shop, she makes everything with butter and sugar unless noted. In LA, where we are from, there are only a few vegan and gluten-free bakeries. It was either or. That may have changed five years later, but we wanted, in our new residence, cookies that would have made our grandmas proud. We wanted our treats to be flavorful and fat but made with alternative flour. Lydia, a home baker, does that with aplomb. Cinnamon rolls topped with sweet icing, freshly baked croissants and an array of cupcakes are just the beginning. Whether you’re ordering a custom cake for a special occasion or grabbing a treat to-go, Gluten Free Creations combines comfort and quality in every item they offer.
Indiana and South Korea’s Newest Relationship Grows Midwest Dining and Manfacturing.
South Korean and Indiana become an international force of dining and EV battery
Nick and I celebrated five years of living in Indianapolis. It was a big cross-country drive, but we were old hats at it, having relocated from West Hollywood to Phoenix, then Orange County and finally Palm Springs before motoring eastward. Each relocation was for Nick’s work. Since living here, we packed again from our first house in the historic Kennedy King neighborhood into our current “forever” home within walking distance of Broad Ripple if we had sidewalks to get there. (We have the same zip code.)
Initially, the city reminded me of my elementary and high school years in Baltimore. Charm City offers mature skyscraping trees and massive, historic turn-of-the-century homes built by transportation moguls. Both areas were hubs of the Second Industrialization Revolution due to the proximity of waterways and the burgeoning railroad system. And it was walkable. I ran away from home once in my stocking, hiking seven miles from Roland Park to Fells Point.
The difference between the two, today, is that Indianapolis is larger by more than 300,000. It’s the 16th largest city in the country, wedged between Charlotte (15th) and San Francisco (17th). It’s also the third largest in the region behind Chicago (‘natch) and Columbus, OH. Baltimore’s population ranks thirtieth, sandwiched by Memphis (29) and Milwaukee (31).
Like my former town of Los Angeles, cars assisted in building Indy. According to the Indiana’s Greenfield Daily Reporter, there were 172 manufacturers of cars or car parts in Indiana, including Stutz and Studebaker in the 1900s. Today, all of them are gone and the state is home to three Asian motor companies, including Honda, Toyota, Subaru and arguably, U.K.-based Rolls Royce, which works on U.S. defense-related production.
According to Autos Drive America, Asian automotive production has outproduced U.S. automakers, driving much of the Midwest economy. These manufacturers employ 17,544 Hoosiers, produce 75 percent of total U.S. auto production, and contribute $19 billion to the state’s GSP. Indeed, manufacturing dances away with the show. Kokomo, an hour north of Indy — think driving the 101 from Hollywood to the 210 and getting off in Pasadena without traffic (I know it would never happen, but it does here) — announced in September 2023 a joint venture between The Netherlands-based Stellantis and South Korean Samsung SDI will build a new EV battery plant, creating 1400 new jobs. The city’s population in 2022 was 59,604 and will continue to grow.
After that information was released, another announcement was that six Korean restaurants will open in the area. Sokuri, serving Japanese and Korean food, opened in January and Sute, a fine-dining Korean barbecue eatery, plans to open in the coming weeks. Indy has 13 Southeast Asian places serving everything from hot pots to Asian-Latin fusion tacos. With the number of South Korean nationalists moving to Kokomo, the companies felt it would be wise to create a welcoming international atmosphere.
This Asian wave brings to mind the Christian Burmese who fled Myanmar, relocating for religious persecution from the Buddhist junta. Many fled seeking religious asylum, found it in Indiana: Greenwood, a community south of Indy, and Fort Wayne, the state’s second-largest city. The Hoosier State could be called Little Burma because it has the largest population of Burmese in the United States. If you ever dined on lahpet thoke (green tea leaf salad), a textural, umami delight, you will wonder how you ever ate an iceberg wedge with bottled Russian dressing.
One can argue that America’s heartland belongs to other countries. I see that differently; I know fewer people fly over our amber waves of grain as we become more about growing an economy that allows everyone to live where they please. We aren’t relegated to one coast or bi-coastal anymore. That’s so 20th century. Now, we are, as the tourism bureau for Illinois says, “The middle of everything.”
What do I think about it? I always ask, will the traditional foods of the Amish, Dutch and Germans who populated the state be mingled with kimchee and bulgogi? Think of a deep-fried Korean pork tenderloin slathered in a sauce of gochujang, a fermented red chili paste and maple syrup, served on gyeran-ppang, a bread crossed with a pancake and dinner roll or using Indiana pork to make jeyuk bokkeum, pork marinated in gochujang, with Hoosier grown potatoes such as Purple Chiefs or Yukon Golds.
I’ve always wanted to live in this country where the comingling of cultures is celebrated and brought together for growth and opportunity. Half a decade later, I’m seeing it come to fruition.
Korean-Inspired BBQ Meatloaf
Ingredients:
For the Meatloaf:
1 lb ground beef
1/2 lb ground pork
1/2 cup panko breadcrumbs
1/4 cup milk
One egg, beaten
Two cloves garlic, minced
One tablespoon ginger, grated
Two tablespoons gochujang (Korean red chili paste)
Two tablespoons soy sauce (or tamari for gluten-free)
One tablespoon of sesame oil
1/4 cup green onions, chopped
1/4 cup carrot, finely grated
1/4 cup onion, finely chopped
One teaspoon of sesame seeds
One tablespoon gochugaru (Korean red pepper flakes) – optional, for extra heat
For the Glaze:
1/4 cup ketchup
Two tablespoons gochujang
One tablespoon brown sugar
One teaspoon rice vinegar
Instructions:
Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a loaf pan with butter of spay oil or line it with parchment paper. The latter assists in removing the loaf from the pan.
In a large bowl, mix the panko breadcrumbs and milk, allowing the breadcrumbs to absorb the milk. Add the ground beef, pork, egg, garlic, ginger, gochujang, soy sauce, sesame oil, green onions, grated carrot, chopped onion, sesame seeds, and gochugaru (if used). Mix until all ingredients are well integrated.
Transfer the mixture to loaf pan, pressing it down to form an even loaf. Or, do what I do, and fashion a free form loaf so much easier.
Mix the ketchup, gochujang, brown sugar, and rice vinegar in a small bowl. Spread half of the glaze over the meatloaf.
Bake the meatloaf in the oven for 45-50 minutes. Fifteen minutes before it’s done, remove the meatloaf and spread the remaining glaze on top. Return it to the oven to finish cooking.
When your remove the meatloaf from the oven, let it rest for about 10 minutes and then slice.. If you feel inspired by Korea, serve bap (rice) or the Pennsylvania Dutch, opt for buttered gluten-free egg noodles or mashed potatoes.
Imbloc, A Celtic Tradition: The Period Between Winter Solstice and Spring’s Beginning
Did you know that cheesy onion biscuits with a big smear of butter are associated with gratefulness and optimism? It’s one of several dishes historically found at meals that celebrate February 1st—Imbolc or Astronomical Spring—and February 2nd, which has morphed into the modern Groundhog Day. Humans have enjoyed particular dishes to ritually and emotionally welcome the lengthening day for millennia. People understood they depended on seasonal food access and that even hunting was at the mercy of weather and animal behavior.
The etymology of Imbolc refers to “in the belly” since domestic animals are pregnant in winter and produce milk for the babies born in the spring. It may still be quite cold or snowy, but tendrils of green are climbing up from the soil.
Some communities stored domesticated animals and harvests for winter, while others relied primarily on foraging and hunting. By winter’s end, food was getting scarce. Imbolc marks the incrementally extended daylight that awakens wild garlic and onions—some of the first fresh plants to appear. People build fires, sharing revelry and gratitude for making it through winter with feasts. Grains, cheeses, butter, milk, and optimistic spring greens make up these meals. Even now, we enshrine these foods as symbols of early spring.
We can invite this festive and grateful energy into this century and our lives. What a cheerful way to interrupt the sometimes oppressive cold and gray winter days. In the 21st century, people are not as tightly bound to seasonal rotations or natural light cycles due to their connection to the grid and the global food industry. We entrench ourselves in the hustle of deadlines, the economy, careers, staying informed, grocery shopping, laundry, rush hour, crime statistics, and paying bills.
But we are also sensuous mammals, our senses enmeshed with light, temperature, scents, and sound changes. All of these stimuli trigger responses in our bodies and behavior. Our modernity abstracts how we entangle with nature, and trivializing its influence shrinks our impulse to be playful, contented and inspired. Consider an Imbolc-inspired meal with your family to root yourself back into rhythms and cycles. Or reach out to others and have a potluck feast with a gathering of people. You can share the Onion and Cheese biscuits and an excellent rich butter. The ingredients are probably already in your home or easily picked up at a market.
Science and folklore agree that it is good for our health to give some time and attention to our environment and share it with other living beings.
One way I’ve started to appreciate the living beings I interact with every day is to learn their names. I’ve begun discovering what wild plants are edible around me growing wild. I experiment with gardening but am more intimidated by it than Early Spring foraging. Early spring is a low-effort window for beginners like myself because there’s only a little green coloring in the soil. It’s much easier to discern one plant from another.
If you’d like to be bold and find a plentiful, unassuming plant to forage and use immediately, find field garlic (allium vineale) and field onions (Allium Canadense). They grow almost anywhere. In the Northern Hemisphere, they sometimes appear on winter days with some warm sunshine. In early spring, they come forth and are often mistaken for fast-growing grass.
Step one: Find a field or a yard. It could be your yard, a shared bit of grassy area in your apartment complex, landscaping at your place, a public park, or an edge of woods. Field onions and garlic grow anywhere in soil and sunlight.
Do take a moment to consider the “isolation” of your spot. I prefer a place away from dog walkers or heavy industry. There are varying opinions about pesticides/herbicides. Still, I won’t harvest where little lawn treatment flags protrude from the ground. Many public parks and woodlands are sprayed with treatments, too. I prefer to forage inside a forest rather than from its edges, where they mainly concentrate the spraying. Sometimes, there is signage after an application.
When you’ve picked your first spot, quickly scan and notice clumps growing taller than the surrounding grass. Please take a little pinch of stalk and smell it. If you smell either garlic or onion- bingo! You’ve found them. The garlic scent is so distinctive, while the onion is more subtle. Because they look so similar, the aroma will be your reliable identifier. Before the Spring Equinox, you are unlikely to have flowering, but you can see differences in their leaves. Field Garlic is a darker green, with hollow leaves like little straws. Field Onions are not hollow.
You can gather leaves by pulling them or cutting them with scissors to harvest.
The leaves are saturated with flavor, but if you want the little bulbs for extra punch, dig down around the plant with a tool like a spade or even a giant spoon. The bulbs will come out caked in soil, and you may not get all of them entirely, but that’s okay. The remaining bulbs will grow again. They are tenacious, and a lot of people consider them weeds.
Bring something along to carry your treasure. It could be a basket or a washable bag. It will get dirty and soak up that Allium scent. Please give them a good soak in hot water at home, which will loosen the soil. Rinse them a few times, and that’s all there is to it. The next delight is deciding how you’ll use your treasure. Making the cheese and onion biscuits with these may make you feel optimistic and accomplished.
Another bonus to discovering the wild plants we intermingle with daily is that many people already know what these plants look and taste like. There are field guides, websites, YouTube videos, local classes, and flesh-and-blood people who love to share their interests with you.
1/2 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 small onion, finely chopped
1/2 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon honey (optional, for a touch of sweetness)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley (optional, for garnish)
Instructions:
Preheat your oven to 425°F (220°C). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease it.
In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Add the cold butter cubes to the dry ingredients. Use a pastry cutter or your fingertips to rub the butter into the flour mixture until it resembles coarse crumbs.
Stir in the shredded cheddar cheese and chopped onion until evenly distributed.
In a separate small bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, sour cream, and honey (if using).
Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients, and pour the buttermilk mixture into the well. Gently stir until the dough comes together. Be careful not to overmix.
Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Pat it into a rectangle about 1/2 to 3/4 inch thick.
Use a biscuit cutter or a sharp knife to cut the dough into biscuits. Place the biscuits on the prepared baking sheet, leaving a little space between each one.
If desired, brush the tops of the biscuits with a little extra buttermilk or melted butter for added flavor and color.
Bake in the preheated oven for 12-15 minutes, or until the biscuits are golden brown and cooked through.
Remove from the oven and sprinkle with chopped fresh parsley, if using. Serve warm and enjoy your cheesy onion biscuits!
Noblesville Main Street’s Executive Director, Kate Baker, Shares Her Love for the Midwest Town and Her Mom’s Chili Recipe
Kate Baker, Courtesy of Kate Baker
I met Indiana-born Kate Baker, Executive Director of Noblesville Main Street, at a catering company’s tasting launching into weddings and events. I’m from Los Angeles and Kate lived there for a decade, too. At different times – I’m more than a decade older – we both worked in entertainment media relations, sending out screeners and ensuring celebs hit their red-carpet marks at events for studios and productions. She worked on the Emmys around television, and I worked on Oscar campaigns. We trundled with the photogs at the Golden Globes’ step and repeat, where the broadcast and cinema stars drink together. We even share a few of the same media friends on social media. Of course, there are hundreds of events in Los Angeles daily, with more journalists covering sports, fashion, and entertainment than anywhere in the world. Yet, far from the Hollywood klieg lights and the narcissistic movie and television industries, we found friendship in Indianapolis.
While I gingerly tread into the writing world – still trying to find my footing after nearly four years of living in Indiana – Kate found a calling into a tourism leadership role in one of the most vibrant and charming communities in the state, Noblesville. There is a resemblance to Napa County’s St. Helena, a delicious walking district outside of San Francisco, known for superb dining and charming independent shops to this sweet burg, roughly 45 minutes north of Indianapolis. They both offer a daytime destination from cities of approximately the same size and have more sole proprietorships than chains. According to Best Places, Indy has a slightly larger population than the Bay Area: 880,104 vs. 865,933, respectively. One of my favorite eating experiences in the 19th state occurred at 9th Street Bistro, where Chef Samir Mohammad creates superb dishes inspired by travels, he and his wife, Rachel Firestone, take annually.
A promotional post for Salsa on The Square in Noblesville Indiana. Courtesy Noblesville Main Street.
In 2019, Kate began overseeing multifaceted roles such as development, marketing, and other destination executive functions. Beyond focusing on the town’s renewal, which has more than 70,000 individuals, she practices her first love, music, volunteering as the assistant music director at Noblesville First United Methodist Church.
“Noblesville is not just my hometown; it’s the crucible that shaped my aspirations,” Baker said when she took the role. “As a denizen of Old Town, I cherish the opportunity to actively shape the evolution of our downtown culture. Noblesville Main Street epitomizes the rich tapestry of our city’s history, vibrancy, and irreplaceable charm. I eagerly anticipate the myriad ways in which we can bolster our community, ensuring it remains an inclusive haven for all.”
Buy Noblesville merchandise here: T-shirts, drinkware and even a snow globe!
FOOD QUESTIONS
What is your favorite food to cook at home? My mom’s chili recipe, which I make a little spicier. It is by far my favorite comfort food!
What do you always have in your fridge at home? Cheese, eggs, and milk. I realize now I’m addicted to dairy! (But don’t tell anyone about the container of frosting kept hidden in the side of the door for those moments you just need a taste of sweet. Ha ha ha!)
What marked characteristic do you love in a person you share a meal with? When I share a meal with someone, I love seeing their joy in the foods they love. In Noblesville, we have several amazing places that offer unmatched culinary experiences. My favorite thing to do is take someone to one of these places for the first time. I love to see them take their first bite and have that eyes-closed moment as they experience the taste sensation created by fresh ingredients, culinary expertise, and, above all, love.
What marked characteristic do you find unappealing in a person with whom you share a meal? I don’t enjoy sharing space with someone unwilling to try new things or dine without gratitude.
Beer, wine, or cocktail? Wine, wine, wine, wine!
Who is your favorite cookbook author? One of my best friends from college is from Puerto Rico. I have spent quite a bit of time there and was given a cookbook called “Puerto Rico True Flavors” by Wilo Benet. “This book has helped me create some really beautiful meals and has been a favorite of mine for more than 2 decades!
What is your favorite kitchen or bar tool? I cannot live without my espresso maker. Does this count?
Favorite types of cuisine to cook? Italian – and because basic pasta dishes make me feel empowered as its one of the only things I confidently make! My skills in the kitchen could be improved.
Beef, chicken, pork, seafood or tofu? Beef, but this girl loves surf and turf!
Favorite vegetable? A tie between broccoli, brussels sprouts, and butternut squash.
What chef or culinary person do you most admire? Jessica Walls at Debbie’s Daughters. Her thoughtfulness into her baked goods, her celebration of family, and the importance she places on consistency and quality for every morsel of every cookie, cake, or loaf of bread make her and her sisters’ food so special. You can taste the love in every single bite.
What food do you like the most? My favorite meal has a filet mignon, baked potato, and steamed broccoli.
What food do you dislike the most? Mushrooms. I haven’t entirely made my peace with fungus, but there are exceptions to this: hibachi style is one of those for me.
What is your favorite non-eating thing to do? Sing. I can’t imagine my life without music.
Whom do you most admire in food? My mom. There is nothing like homecooked meals by a parent/guardian who loves you.
Where is your favorite place to eat and drink outside the Midwest? This is a three-way tie, and all are in my old stomping grounds of Los Angeles: Palmeri Ristorante (Brentwood), Taverna Tony’s (Malibu), or Sugarfish (California).
What is your favorite restaurant? Impossible to pick just one! Currently, I can’t seem to stop craving 9th Street Bistro in Noblesville.
Moroccan Chicken, Courtesy of 9th Street Bistro
Who is/are the person/s with whom you would share your last meal? Last meal?! I can’t even fathom the last meal, let alone who I would invite! First thought would be my parents, but let’s be real – if it was my last meal, this would be a party including everyone I’ve ever loved.
A Midwest Chili Recipe from Mary Baker, Kate’s Mom
(Original recipe from my mom. I’ve made improvisations through the years in the heat and how I cook the meat, but this was a mother instructing her daughter who was newly on her own!)
1 bag of shredded cheese (your choice: I usually get Monterey Jack…or a blend)
1 bottle of tomato juice
1 container of sour cream
Crackers of your choice: Oyster. Regular saltines or whatever.
What to have on hand:
A big pot to pour everything into and hold your chili
Strainer
Can or another saucepan to put strainer onto to catch drippings from the ground chuck. Don’t drain it into your sink. Your drainpipe will eventually get clogged and be just a mess to clean out.
1. Use your largest pot and pour all cans of beans and diced tomatoes into it. Put on a burner on very low heat.
2. Put half of the beef into a microwave-safe bowl and break it apart with a fork. Microwave on high for about 3 minutes. Take it out and continue to break it up with a fork. Mike for another 2 minutes. Take it out and do the fork thing again till it’s the consistency you like. If the meat is still pink, cook it in one-minute intervals until it is fully cooked. When cooked through, dump it into the strainer and drain well. Put back in the bowl, and put one envelope of the seasoning mix into the ground chuck and mix in with fork. Pour beef into the tomato/bean mixture in the pot. Repeat with the rest of the meat.
3. Stir beef, tomatoes, and beans together and keep on low heat.
4. Fill a medium-sized saucepan about 3/4 full with hot water. Bring to a rolling boil on top of the stove. When boiling, add about 1 1/2 cups of macaroni. Turn the heat down, but continue to boil, stirring with a fork fairly often. After about 5 minutes, periodically take out one piece of macaroni….let it cool a bit….and taste it. When it is done to your liking, drain the pasta in the strainer. This time directly into the sink.
5. Pour drained pasta into the pot. Stir. Cover.
6. Chop onion and put it into a small Tupperware-type container with the lid snapped on. Put into fridge.
7. Cook chili on low heat, stirring every few minutes for about a half hour. Reduce heat to “simmer” and keep covered for as long as you want without overcooking it.
8. If the chili is too thick for your liking, add some tomato juice….a little at a time….until it is the thickness you want.
9. Serve with onions, cheese, sour cream and crackers.
10. Enjoy!!
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