Hi there, I’m Grace Holloway, and I’m so glad you stopped by. I’m 42 years old and live just outside of Asheville, North Carolina, nestled between the Blue Ridge Mountains and rows of backyard herbs that are a little too enthusiastic in spring. Cooking wasn’t always the plan—I was a high school English teacher for over a decade—but somewhere between my grandmother’s Sunday pies and late-night experiments with spicy stews, food became the way I told my story.

I grew up in a small town in Tennessee, in a house where food wasn’t fancy but always felt like home. My mom kept things simple: chicken and dumplings, skillet cornbread, peach cobbler with a too-sweet crust. But it was my grandma Edie who made food feel magical. She didn’t measure, barely followed recipes, and could turn pantry scraps into something unforgettable. I’d sit on the counter watching her hands work, flour flying, windows fogged from a bubbling pot on the stove.

It wasn’t until my thirties that I truly let food take over. I started baking bread on weekends just to decompress, then got bold with fermentation, pickling everything I could find at the farmers market. Before long, I was the one friends called when they needed comfort food or a crazy good potluck dish. I didn’t go to culinary school—I went to life school. And that’s the kind of kitchen I believe in: one where mistakes are part of the recipe and laughter is just as important as salt.

My cooking style is rustic, hearty, and a little adventurous. I like food that feels real—slow-braised roasts, messy berry galettes, smoky beans with ham hock. I believe deeply in using what’s local, honoring the seasons, and letting ingredients speak for themselves. But I also think cooking should be joyful, not intimidating. You don’t need fancy gadgets or twelve obscure spices to make something amazing. You just need a little time, a little love, and the courage to try.

These days, I share my recipes and stories with home cooks like you—people who are juggling work and family and still want to put something warm and delicious on the table. Whether it’s your first time roasting a chicken or your hundredth attempt at sourdough, I’m here to cheer you on. I’ve burned things. I’ve forgotten the salt. I’ve had cakes fall flat and pies explode. And still, I show up in the kitchen, because there’s nothing like watching people you love take that first bite and smile.

So welcome to my little corner of the world. Pour yourself a cup of coffee, grab a whisk, and let’s cook something wonderful together.