How Homemade Mayonnaise Saved My Postpartum Sanity

My mum worried so much that she staged an intervention with me via FaceTime from New Zealand. “You can’t survive on frozen pizza,” she said. I glanced at the fig bar wrappers, cartons of chicken broth, and greasy cardboard dotted with dried pizza sauce…

My mum worried so much that she staged an intervention with me via FaceTime from New Zealand. "You can't survive on frozen pizza," she said. I glanced at the fig bar wrappers, cartons of chicken broth, and greasy cardboard dotted with dried pizza sauce overflowing the trash can. "We eat burgers, too," I reassured her.

Before Arthur arrived, I spent Sunday afternoons making pappardelle by hand, using “00” flour, kneading the dough with my knuckles, and rolling it out into one smooth, even layer.

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