I’ve loved food for as long as I can remember.

I grew up watching my dad cook at his restaurant and at home, and I loved being alongside him in the kitchen. I was also the kid who could happily watch the Food Network for hours, so clearly there were signs early on. 😂

For the longest time, I wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps and work in food. My parents especially my mom were basically like: We love you. Absolutely not. Go to college. Get a degree. Please do literally anything that doesn’t involve owning a restaurant. And now I understand why. My dad poured everything into his restaurant his time, energy and probably a good portion of his sanity. He worked constantly and carried an enormous amount of financial stress. My mom lived that life right alongside him, and she wanted more balance for me. So I went to college. Got the job. Built a career. And never stopped cooking.

My dad gave me so much of my love for cooking, and my mom gave me so much of my love for gathering people. Holidays. Family. Friends. A full house. Food everywhere. Everyone lingering around the kitchen. That’s always felt like home to me. As I got older, I became the one hosting holidays, having everyone over and finding basically any excuse to get the people I love around my table. My parents were always gushing over my hosting. Their opinions on my actual cooking, however, could not be more different.

My mom is president of my fan club and cannot be trusted to provide an unbiased review. I could serve that woman something I KNOW isn’t my best and she’ll tell me it’s incredible.

My dad? You’re getting the truth. If something needed more salt, he’d tell me. If something wasn’t quite right, I’d know. And I actually love that about him, because when my dad tells me something is really good, I know it’s really good. He came by that honestly because his mom, my grandmom, was exactly the same way. My grandmom lived to 98, and I lost her last year. She was my best and most brutally honest food critic. If it needed salt, she was telling me. If it was dry, believe me, I was hearing about it. No sugarcoating. And I loved that about her. But after every holiday, every party, every time I had everyone over, she would call me the next day and say: “Ker, you are the best hostess.” And coming from a woman who would also happily tell me my chicken was dry, I knew she meant it. 😂❤️ God, I miss those calls.

And now I have my own little cheering section. My sister is one of my biggest cheerleaders and the person I can bounce ideas off of and laugh with until my stomach physically hurts. My family and friends have eaten A LOT of food in the name of “testing” and gathered around my table more times than I can count. And of course, my husband. He’s been eating my cooking for basically our entire adult lives and, more importantly, always cleans up after I cook. A man who understands the assignment. He is, however, no longer trusted with the wine glasses. We once poured a REALLY good bottle of wine and watched it bubble from leftover dish soap. BUBBLE. I’ve forgiven him. I have not forgotten.

And then there are our two little girls, who currently think my cooking is AMAZING. Apparently my mom’s rating system is genetic. I love that they’re growing up around the kitchen. I love that they see our house full of family and friends and are sitting around the same kind of table I grew up around eating, talking, laughing and watching people linger a little longer. And somewhere in all of this is why I finally started Enough at Home.

Food has always been my love language, but I’ve realized what I really love is what happens around the food. A full kitchen. Friends lingering over another drink. Laughing until it hurts. Impromptu nights where you throw out whatever you have and somehow those end up being the best ones.

I love making people feel welcome in my home, but I don’t want to spend the entire night in the kitchen while everyone else is having fun. So no, I’m not making everything from scratch. I’ll buy the pre-cut vegetables. Grab the rotisserie chicken. Use the store-bought gnocchi. Buy the tzatziki and throw a ridiculous amount of fresh dill on top. Take the shortcut where it doesn’t matter. But where it does? I have opinions. Fresh herbs. Fresh lemon. Colorful vegetables. Good cheese. Homemade dressing. A cocktail made with something fresh. And bottled salad dressing? Absolutely not! We have to have standards somewhere.

That’s what I want Enough at Home to be.

Not perfect recipes.

Not perfect homes.

Not complicated entertaining.

Just really good food, smart shortcuts, something fresh, people you love around your table and hopefully a lot of laughing. Because the food was never really the whole point. It’s the people around it.

You probably already have enough in your fridge, your pantry and your home to make something good. And you definitely don’t need everything to be perfect to invite people in. Good food. Good people. Lots of laughing. Keep it simple.

That’s Enough at Home. 🤍

And after all these years of promising my parents I wouldn’t go into the food business…