Chris Morocco

I must admit - I don't really like peanut butter.

Everyone has foods that take them on mental journeys.

When my grandmother passed away in 2014, she left behind some recipes, but nobody stepped forward to follow in her footsteps and become pop-up cookie factories whenever the need arose.

My grandmother, Erminia 'Minnie' Morocco, treated cookies like a form of currency.

Hodo Soy's firm tofu is certainly stir-fry-able, but my favorite thing to do is shred it using the large holes of a box grater and use it in vegan sloppy joes.

My favorite Hodo Soy product is the firm tofu, a dense cryovac-ed block that isn't packed in water like most store-bought tofu and, therefore, doesn't need to be pressed before using (what a revelation!). It's nutty and mild with a firm - never spongy - consistency.

My brain still recoils at memories of the tofu stir-fries in my college co-op. A student 'cook' made them in a wok the size of a prosperous Martian's flying saucer, and, man, were they bad - steamy, crumbled bits of tofu and limp greens sloshing around in a warm bath of liquid aminos. I couldn't eat tofu for decades.

When I was growing up, a warm, crusty baguette was within arm's reach during every dinner: sliced, if my mom was cooking, or left whole so we could tear it apart if my dad was at the stove.

I can't keep pumpernickel bagels at home because just knowing they are in the freezer makes it hard for me to fall asleep.

The injustice I feel when my kids drag me out of bed by 6 most mornings is tempered and possibly even erased by the happiness I feel when eating a thick piece of whole-grain toast with a shamelessly large cup of coffee.

I love bread and would happily eat it for every meal of the day.

A pastry crust is arguably the least healthy (and most time-consuming) part of a quiche. Replacing pastry with richly browned chunks of sweet potato creates a similar buttery contrast and a satisfying bite.

I thought my early attempts at cooking tofu went well, but, in hindsight, I realize that's because I was cooking for hungry, vegetarian college students.

My dad had a wildly embarrassing habit for a while, that luckily only came out when he was traveling abroad. When trying to decide what restaurant to eat in, he would boldly stride in to the kitchen of every possible contender and have a look around.

I find it is imperative to switch my footwear at least once throughout the day to avoid fatigue, bouncing around the office in Superfeet-clad sneakers, then slipping into clogs whenever I am in the kitchen.

Virtually every pair of athletic shoes comes with wafer-thin, virtually non-existent insoles that have very little heel or arch support. This is where Superfeet Black Premium Insoles come in. With ergonomic support for heels and arches, they feel molded to my feet in ways that continue to astound me.

Have you ever walked into a store and wanted to leave your old life behind and become the person you would be if your life was full of the things in that store? I hadn't until I walked into At Land in Dobbs Ferry, New York.

Boneless skinless chicken breasts don't give a damn about their bad reputation. They don't care that you think of them as pale, dry, and rubbery.

Molokhia as a dish can take many forms, but usually involves a braised meat.

A normal conversation between my uncles about whether or not the lamb is done will come across as a shouting match between four guys all doing their best to impersonate Tony Soprano.

My family is loud.

Veggie burgers, by nature, take more work than meat-based ones, but they should never feel (or taste) like a compromise.

My first foray into meatless burgers was BA's Best Veggie Burger, a no-holds-barred, maximalist veggie burger in the style of Superiority Burger. A year later I followed that up with a black-bean tofu burger designed to stand up to the high heat of the grill. So what was there left to say? Plenty.

Snapper is pretty forgiving for a white fish. The skin crisps up beautifully, which holds it together.

Cooking at home has made my pantry work harder than ever, and I'm constantly turning to ingredients that I know will add maximum taste-bud payoff with minimal fuss.

Pureed soups kinda suck. By definition, they have one flavor and one texture, a visual blank space where something much more interesting should be.

I spend a lot of time apologizing for the things I say when I am hungry. That's why breakfast, for me, is non-negotiable. It's an insurance policy against saying things I'll regret before my blood-sugar levels have stabilized.

When it comes to breakfast, baked goods are my weakness (besides coffee): toast, croissants, heck, even a scone on the weekend. There is one bakery item, though, that you will never see in my life, and that's a muffin.

The funny thing about bowl recipes is, despite how simple they might seem, they can actually be a lot of work.

I'm not the kind of person who has tall stacks of beautiful ceramics in every corner of my cabinets.

I am not someone who ever feels bad about eating a big bowl of pasta for dinner.

Pepper mills (aka pepper grinders) rank just behind knives as primary causes of horrific kitchen accidents, according to an unofficial study that occurred in my life experience.

It takes a lot to get vegetables to come together into burger form and stay there. A whole lot, in fact. That is why so many veggie burger recipes require eggs, gluten, prodigious amounts of starches, and chilling or freezing before they have a chance of holding together.

Unlike meat fibers which contract and bind as they cook, vegetables, grains, and legumes just want to fall apart as they heat up. So when I said I wanted to create a grillable, totally vegan veggie burger that came together in under 20 minutes, there was a good chance this would be the mission that I simply never came back from.

I've found that grilled chicken is one of the fastest, easiest ways of getting protein on my family's plate, but it needs a massively flavorful sauce to finish it during the final minutes of cooking.

Creating a healthier alternative to barbecue sauce isn't easy. The extreme range of flavors, from piercing vinegar to salty to sweet to barely perceptible umami, isn't easy to recreate.

A day at the beach with my kids is one of the least relaxing activities I can think of.

Pretty much anything pureed needs a big flavor assist to be delicious; just think about how much butter, cream, and salt it takes to make mashed potatoes truly amazing.

Meatloaf has never quite risen above its name. It offers comfort and predictability, but rarely fireworks.

I don't order take-out sushi for the fish. Unless I'm spending a lot of money to eat at a phenomenal sushi restaurant, I eat it for the rice, which is perfectly seasoned with a mixture of salt, sugar, and rice vinegar.

Growing up, my parents were health nuts who tried to deprive me of sugary and processed foods so that I would grow up with an appreciation for healthy, delicious homemade food.

There are some things, like sushi, that I'll still choose white for, because its flavor is so unobtrusive. But I actually prefer the nutty intensity of brown rice in stir-fries, grain bowls, and as my go-to grainy side dish.

When I was a kid, brown rice felt like punishment. Like the ever-increasing amount of whole wheat flour that would appear in my mom's pancakes and waffles, brown rice with dinner felt like we had done something really wrong.

Vancouver is a coffee-lover's paradise, capable of impressing even the most hyper-caffeinated and jaded New Yorkers, such as myself. The coffee is fantastic, whether I happened to be craving a world-class espresso served with monastic intensity or a single-origin pour-over at a vibrant all-day cafe.

Everyone's definition of healthy (and delicious) is different.

I love to cook, but, after spending a full day in the Bon Appetit test kitchen, the last thing I need to do is start chopping onions all over again when I get home. That means dinners can be a bit scrappy: reheated leftovers from my weekend prep, fridge-dump salads, or just taking whatever I can find and putting a scoop of cottage cheese on it.

We've all been there. Your roux looks good, you add stock until your gravy is the ideal consistency, and then those pan drippings go in and suddenly you've got a sauce that's thinner than chicken soup. Before you panic, remember that there's always a way to thicken it, whether you're an hour or a minute away from dinner time.

The secret to sheet pan dinners is having a sauce, condiment, or other raw-and-crunchy finisher that comes together outside of the oven, otherwise everything on the plate has the same, monotonous roasty-dry texture.

A lot of nights, and dinners, start like this: some panicked chopping of whatever vegetables I had the foresight to buy, a sheet pan, and my countertop convection oven.

Arriving home on a weeknight is guaranteed to be the least relaxing part of my day. The door opens, and two Tasmanian devil-children fly at me, showing me art projects and asking for snacks. My bag has barely hit the floor before I'm off doing 20 things at once, none of which is preparing dinner.