Author: Maggie Mauro

Let’s talk about Laredo Boots. Specifically, the Maddie ones. Because nothing says “I’m prepared to square dance or judge a pie-eating contest” like slipping into a pair of these cowgirl …

There comes a time in every dad’s life—somewhere between the annual lawnmower tune-up and the deep existential reflection over grill temperature zones—when he realizes he needs serious shoes. Not dad …

Let’s talk about Tikka Masala. Or rather, let’s talk about what passes for Tikka Masala when you’re living the glamorous life of dietary restrictions. You know the drill—no dairy, no …

Let me start by saying: I have trust issues. Mostly with any food product that describes itself as “high in probiotics” and “chef-crafted” in the same sentence. It usually ends …

Let me paint you a picture: it’s 7:45 AM, I’m staring into the abyss (aka my empty coffee mug), and I’m debating whether breakfast is worth the effort. Enter Grandy …

Let me start by saying that I’m not typically a “glassware person.” My bar setup is more “college reunion” than “Michelin star,” and I’ve been known to drink a $45 …

Let’s be honest: buying jarred pasta sauce should never feel like a commitment. You’re just trying to get dinner on the table without setting the kitchen on fire. And yet, …

There are days when the soul cries out for solace. For meaning. For clarity. And on those days, I, wise seeker of enlightenment through broth, pilgrimage to Ichiran on 49th …

Ah yes, the Cloudnola Flipping Out Rainbow Flip Clock—because nothing says “I respect punctuality” like slapping a rainbow-colored carnival on your wall and daring it to tell time. If you’ve …

Ah, Milk. That timeless white beverage of yesteryear, now with a glow-up nobody asked for—but we’re all secretly intrigued by. Enter Milk50 by DairyPure, the dairy industry’s equivalent of a …

There are peanuts, and then there are Hubs Virginia peanuts—the kind of peanuts that quietly judge the sad little bag you picked up at a gas station that one time …

Look, I’ve never asked for much from my shower. Warm water. Decent pressure. And maybe—just maybe—not emerging from it with skin that feels like it’s been lovingly exfoliated by a …