At some point in my life, I apparently looked around at my full-time job, relationship, house, family, dog, cooking, cleaning, laundry, bills, projects, and the approximately 47 tabs permanently open in my brain and thought: You know what I need? A fucking blog. Because clearly I wasn’t busy enough. And so Coffee, Chaos & Kelly was born. But the truth is, this little corner of the internet means a hell of a lot more to me than recipes, meal plans, shit I bought because the in

There are some people who come into your life and leave a mark on you so deep that even time and distance can't erase it. Amy is one of those people.

Let me tell you something about New Jersey diner rice pudding. This is not just dessert. This is a way of life.

When you combine a 140+ pound Great Dane, a grandma who believes the answer to every question is “sure, give it to her,” and a dog with a digestive system that is basically held together by hope and prayer… YOU GET FARTS

Today is your birthday, and I keep trying to find the right words to explain what you mean to me. The truth is, I don't think there are enough words.

Some weekends are just really good for your soul. This weekend was one of those.

I don't think any of us are ever really prepared to say goodbye to someone like Dolly Parton. Hearing that she is gone is just heartbreaking. There are certain people who somehow feel like they have always been a part of our lives, even if we never had the chance to meet them. Dolly was one of those people. She wasn't just a country music legend. She was a piece of Americana. She was the voice behind songs we've sung in the car, the woman who made us laugh, cry, and sometimes

I honestly don’t know what I would do without her. She’s the person I can call when I’m happy, frustrated, excited, confused, overwhelmed, or when I just need to hear her voice.

Because paying $14 for six sad little strips of meat in a resealable bag feels like a personal attack. Make your own damn jerky. INGREDIENTS 2 lbs eye of round, top round, or bottom round, trimmed of visible fat ½ cup soy sauce ¼ cup Worcestershire sauce 2 tbsp brown sugar 1 tbsp liquid smoke 2 tsp coarse black pepper 1 tsp garlic powder 1 tsp onion powder 1 tsp smoked paprika ½ tsp red pepper flakes (more if you enjoy consequences) ½ tsp kosher salt DIRECTIONS GET YOUR MEAT

Cozy, hearty, and absolutely worth making a vat of because somehow “just one bowl” is always a fucking lie. INGREDIENTS: For the tiny meatballs: 1 lb ground beef ½ lb ground Italian sausage ½ cup Italian breadcrumbs ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese 1 egg 2 cloves garlic, minced 2 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped ½ tsp salt ½ tsp black pepper For the soup: 2 tbsp olive oil 1 medium onion, diced 2 carrots, diced 2 celery stalks, diced 3 cloves garlic, minced 8 cups chicken broth ¾ cup a

These chocolate chip pudding cookies are officially Jameson’s Cookies, named after my nephew Jameson—one of the most handsome little humans and apparently a tiny baking prodigy. When he was little, he and my sister used to make these together. Now he’s 11, making them all by himself, and the kid is damn good at it. Rude, honestly. I’ve been an adult a lot longer and still manage to screw things up regularly. They were also the very first cookies he ever made for me, so they e

This is probably one of the hardest things I will ever write because there is no version of this story where I come out completely innocent.

I’ve started this a few times because everything I write sounds too polished. Too pretty. And what I feel for Jeremy isn’t polished. It’s fucking real. I love this man in a way that has changed something in me. Not because he came riding in and magically fixed my life. He didn’t. He just came into it, stood beside me, and kept showing up. Again and again. In all the little ways that probably don’t look like much to anyone else but mean absolutely everything to me. He takes ca

The second my mom bought me a Dutch oven, I decided I was entering my rustic homestead bread-bitch era.

There are some weekends that are fun—and then there are the weekends that quietly remind you just how damn lucky you are.

this week, we’re keeping dinner easy and using what we already have. Jet has taught me the apparently revolutionary concept of using the food you bought before buying more food. Rude, but financially responsible.

While I am no longer dating Steve, I will give credit where credit is due: the man did leave me with one useful thing besides emotional damage and questionable financial decisions—his version of Tater Tot Casserole. Now, is it actually his recipe? Absolutely fucking not. I’m sure he stole it from somebody’s mother, aunt, ex-girlfriend, cookbook, or the back of a Campbell’s soup can and then claimed it as his own. But custody of the casserole was awarded to ME in the breakup,

Jet and I are genuinely excited to have friends coming to stay with us this weekend. Not because we have some elaborate weekend planned or because we feel like we need to entertain them every second they're here, but because they're coming simply to spend time with us. They want to see our home, experience this little slice of heaven we've built for ourselves, explore some of the beautiful places around us, eat good food, laugh, talk, and just enjoy each other's company. Ther

Jet and I are pumped because we have my friend (from a previous life) and her new beau coming to stay with us for the weekend so we are going to be in culinary bliss with Jet in charge of cooking (except SUNDAY because SUNDAY'S are sacred to this girl). MONDAY (8/10/26) Chicken Pad Thai w/ Asian Dressed Salad "TACO TUESDAY" (8/11/26) Fish Tacos w/ Black Beans WEDNESDAY (8/12/26) Homemade Sloppy Joes w/ Tator Tots & Green Salad THURSDAY (8/13/26) "Shake-N-Bake" Pork Chops, Mas

I’m 46, and apparently my body has decided that after four and a half decades of relatively predictable behavior, it’s time to burn the whole fucking operation to the ground. Welcome to perimenopause. Or, as I like to call it: “What the fuck is happening to me, and why am I eating again?” Nobody properly warned me about this shit. They tell you about hot flashes. They casually mention “hormonal changes.” They might throw around words like brain fog and weight redistribution.