We’re not trying. But we’re also not not trying. These things just happen on their own.

There’s andouille sausage in the fridge, a butternut squash on the counter and a fresh bag of arugula in Parker’s purse. The purse is silver lame’ and from Old Navy–she loves taking it arugula shopping. Bitter greens are a staple in our tiny New York City apartment, a tiny space that sports an even more miniscule refrigerator. (Good thing I know that if the greens can fit into Parker’s purse, they can squeeze into our Frigidaire’s crisper.) Two gorgeous, thick pork chops are wrapped in white butcher’s paper.

So what’s for dinner?

The seared chops are the heart and soul of the plate and a warm arugula, andouille, butternut squash salad makes us feel good about the meal. Oh, and it’s good. Goooood. We play around, add a spoonful of pecorino romano to the greens, drizzle a little balsamic and then start imagining how we’ll transform the leftover pork into a stir-fry for our Sunday night meal… And here we go again, Baby #2…

But is it too soon? Are we ready? Can we love and care for the second baby–because producing a book is like giving birth to a baby– as intensely as we did the first? Well, I hope so.  I hope so because I want a lifetime of tasting notes and tweaks and playing in the kitchen. Also, I’m the youngest of three daughters and Jamie’s the baby brother…

It’ll be nice to have a baby in the house again, won’t it?