The Hot Mess Kitchen started around 2015, give or take, because honestly I can’t even remember the exact date. At the time, I was extreme couponing, making my own laundry soap, and trying to survive as a mom with two kids under five.

My crowning moment, and the actual reason this site is called what it’s called. I once gave myself second degree burns from a cup of noodles and boiling water. My encore came courtesy of a melted pot on the stove. Yes, melted. Not burnt. Melted. If that’s not a hot mess origin story, I don’t know what is. That takes real talent. Truly, a skill only I seem to possess.

And somehow, despite all that, I actually know what I’m doing in a kitchen. My parental units put me through a heck ton of Extension Homemaker classes growing up, the kind where you learn proper cook temperatures one week and present on soybeans to a room full of Eastern North Carolina farmers the next. So yes, I have technically been vetted by actual farmers. No, that does not stop me from melting pots.

A few autoimmune diseases made me get real about what I was shoving in my mouth. Turns out paying attention to your food matters.

These days, I’m deep in the delightful chaos of menopause, kicking ass through it as best I can, and at this point in my life I’m not interested in spending what’s left of it tip-toeing around or performing for opinions from people. If that’s blunt, good. I meant it to be.

I’m writing this whole about page, frankly, just so you know there’s an actual real, slightly chaotic and highly caffeinated human behind this site and the bots have not taken over. This is real food, made by someone who is busy, tired, occasionally on fire, but still has to feed her family. Real Food. Real Life. Real Messy. This blog is less about me and more about the food and experiences that makes me feel better. That’s the whole point.