This is my 20th post already!! Good grief!

And I haven’t missed a beat with my promised Wednesday posts— and I’m quite proud of that!

There’s something deeply satisfying about watching an idea take shape in the world.

The notion of starting a Substack first took root last autumn, and in February, My Swedish Chapter finally came to life.

And here we are now, in June.

A little corner of the internet dedicated to sharing tales of moving to Sweden

and all the fun that entails!

Today, I’m sharing a recipe! YAY!

As a trained culinary professional—and someone who spends an inordinate amount of time daydreaming about food—I strive to share more recipes.

Now that we’ve completed our first honey harvest, I find myself constantly contemplating new ways to put it to use.

Particularly in baking!

I’ve always been fond of honey, though truthfully, it rarely finds its way into my daily routine.

Perhaps a spoonful whisked into a vinaigrette, or a small dose when a scratchy throat calls for it.

I generally skip it in tea, because I’m not especially fond of sweet beverages.

I baked this cake—mentioned briefly in last week’s post—almost immediately after we had our first jar of honey and it was a home run!

It highlights honey perfectly! and honestly it’s not overly complicated.

Cake, berries, honey and cream.

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I have unintentionally become a beekeeper here in Sweden! Well, actually, I prefer to think of myself as a beekeeper’s sidekick—Peter is the real beekeeper.

AND I am proud to say that I have yet to get stung! And already far less afraid of honeybees than I once was.

It’s an adventurous unexpected hobby, and I’m loving every minute of it. Over the past few months, I’ve learned so much, and I’m excited to share a little of the journey with you.

A quick disclaimer: everything I’m sharing comes from my perspective. I’m certainly not here to teach anyone how to keep bees—only to document what I’ve learned, observed, and found fascinating along the way.

How We Became Beekeepers

When Peter and I first started dating, he told me about his dream of keeping bees and producing his own honey at home. At the time, I didn’t really understand what that entailed—but as a girl who loves to eat, I was completely charmed by the idea of homemade honey.

Then, during the winter, while I was impatiently waiting to move to Sweden, Peter enrolled in a weekend beekeeping course to learn the fundamentals of the craft.

One step closer.

A few weeks before I arrived in March, Peter heard about someone selling his hives—three of them, along with enough equipment to manage up to ten hives. The seller was an elderly local man who had recently entered hospice care and wanted to ensure his precious bees would continue to be looked after.

It was a meaningful opportunity to start the bee journey!

And just like that, we had three hives and a whole lot of bee stuff!

Peter became a beekeeper, and I became the beekeeper’s sidekick.

He is very passionate about bees and wants to help spread the good word of their contributions. He posted these signs around the yard so neighbors walking past would learn a little about the bees we have and honey!!

and he also created a very charming logo for selling the honey! Honung means honey in Swedish!

The Hives and the Honeybees

As mentioned, we started with three hives—although we technically have five now, but I’ll get to that later.

Each hive contains anywhere from 20,000 to 80,000 bees, which sounds almost impossible until you see a hive for yourself. The population fluctuates throughout the year, growing significantly during the busy summer months when nectar and pollen are abundant.

Within each hive, there is a single queen, thousands of female worker bees, and a smaller number of male drones. To the untrained eye, they all look remarkably similar, but experienced beekeepers can spot the differences immediately.

I won’t dive too deeply into everyone’s job descriptions just yet—I’m still learning myself—but it’s the worker bees who do most of the heavy lifting. They’re responsible for collecting nectar and pollen and keeping the hive running smoothly.

And despite what children’s books might have led you to believe, a beehive isn’t the classic fairytale-shaped structure hanging from a tree branch. Modern hives are large wooden boxes, carefully managed and maintained by the beekeeper.

The “Keeping” of the Bees

When Peter acquired the hives during the winter, they were largely inactive. At that point, he wasn’t even sure all three colonies had survived the cold months.

It wasn’t until mid-April, when the temperatures finally began to rise, that signs of life started to emerge. Bees became more active, flying in and out of the hives and getting back to work.

After suiting up in full bee gear, it was time for the first proper inspection.

Peter carefully examined each hive, checking that the colonies were healthy and, most importantly, confirming that each one still had a queen.

(the smoke is used to help calm the bees)

Peter consistently checks in on them to make sure they aren’t over crowded, active, and everything is operating smoothly. After we returned from our big roadtrip - Peter decided to split a hive because it was overcrowded. It happened to another hive as well - so now we technically have 5 (but the other 2 likely won’t produce honey this year.)

Harvesting the Honey

This past weekend, it was finally time to harvest our first batch of early summer honey!! We collected a total of 37 jars at 500g per jar.

Super exciting!

Honey production is entirely dependent on warm weather and an abundance of flowers. Because different plants bloom throughout the spring and summer, each harvest develops its own unique character. The flavour profile changes, the aroma changes, and even the colour can vary dramatically.

Our first harvest—what we’re calling “Early Summer Honey”—is made primarily from spring wildflowers and cherry blossoms ( we have a big cherry tree in our yard!)

We’re fortunate to live beside the Baltic Sea, have a large variety of flowers in our own yard and lots of forest nearby— all providing an incredible variety of forage for the bees.

Not a bad pantry for a colony of honeybees.

At the beginning of May when the flowers became abundant, Peter added space to the boxes for the bees to store the nectar and pollen (that turns into honey) for us to harvest— you have to make sure the queen can’t go in there and lay eggs.

Once the honeycombs (bees wax frames) are full, the bees start to add more wax to the outside to protect the honey (which they are storing the honey for themselves—not us.)

THEN, we can harvest. Here are some pics:

First you carefully scrape off the wax so the honey can be removed.

Next you place 3 of them in a machine that whips them around in a circle to release the honey.

Then double filter into a new bucket.

And back into another bucket for pouring into jars.

We’re expecting 2-3 more batches to harvest this Summer. But this is also a new hobby…so we shall see!

I was thrilled to make some sort of dessert with the honey the day after we harvested!

Dug a layer of sponge cake and berries from the freezer to make this:

Honey macerated blackberries and cream cake!

WE LOVED IT. The honey shined.

and I’m entirely inspired to bring you a recipe next week…

Hope you enjoyed learning about bees! LMK what you think!

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We’re back from our big Finland road trip!! Phew.

Ten days on the road in a camper van — just Peter, Nelson (doggie), and me — zigzagging our way through Sweden and Finland like three little nomads.

There were:
many, many miles driven,
endless coastal roads, forests, and tiny countryside towns,
moose and reindeer sightings,
birds chirping at 3 a.m.,
daily walks,
sauna sessions,
new foods,
and the joy of meeting more of Peter’s Finnish family.

We drove around the Gulf of Bothnia, making a giant loop from our home in Nyköping, Sweden, north along the Baltic coast all the way to the Swedish-Finnish border. Once in Finland, we headed south and into central Finland to visit Peter’s family. From Turku, on Finland’s southwest coast, we boarded an overnight ferry back to Stockholm. Just a short hour south back to Nyköping!

The whole adventure started because Peter’s grandmother turned 101 years old (!!), and we decided this deserved an entire road trip.

I was especially excited because I’d never explored Sweden north of Stockholm before. The landscapes slowly changed the farther north we drove — denser forests, rural roads, slight changes in architecture, and stretches of gorgeous coastline.

We also made a meaningful stop in the tiny Finnish town my ancestors emigrated from— Kauhava, in the late 1800s before eventually settling in northern Wisconsin. There’s something surreal about standing in a place that once existed only as a sentence in family history! Very cool.

Peter bought the camper van last year before we met, so this was really its first proper season of adventure. I grew up camping — in both tents and campers — and have always loved the rhythm of it. Life gets wonderfully simple out there. Your entire world becomes: where you sleep, what to eat, whether it might rain, and if you’re in the Nordic— searching for a sauna nearby.

When planning the trip, we intentionally kept things loose and flexible. We had rough destinations in mind for each day and exactly one real deadline: arriving at his family’s house by Tuesday evening for the birthday celebration.

Everything else? Figure-it-out-as-we-go energy!

Camper van culture is huge in Sweden — and really throughout much of Europe. Peter says it exploded even more after Covid. You see camper vans everywhere here, quietly rolling through forests and coastal roads like little portable homes.

And apparently there is an unspoken rule: when you pass another camper van, you wave.

Peter took this responsibility very seriously and never missed a single opportunity :)

We also packed surprisingly light because camper vans have strict weight limits. This led to some aggressive outfit repeating and a very intimate relationship with our tiny storage compartments.

Here’s a peek into our Nordic adventure— mostly via photos. I always take a ton of pictures…

10 days. Let’s go.

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Did you catch my post from last week about Citronbiskvier?? It didn’t send to my subscribers via email— even after I attempted to email it a second time. It’s a real banger of a recipe. I want to be sure you saw it :)

I’m currently on a road trip with Peter—driving from Nyköping all the way to central Finland to celebrate Peter’s grandma’s 101st birthday!

We’re traveling by camper van, sightseeing along the way, and even stopping in the town where some of my ancestors emigrated from. Afterward, we’ll take a ferry from southern Finland back to Stockholm, then drive one final hour home.

A big trip. A dream trip!!

I’ve always been an outdoorsy gal and have been camping since I was young. Even during the ten years I lived in New York City, I always carved out time to get outside whenever I could.

I plan to share more of the trip next week! BUT until then….

Today, I wanted to write about a cosmic shift in my cooking and baking—something that has lingered in my mind for the past year and that I’ve been wanting to put into words for quite some time. It has changed as a result of my time in Sweden.

New experiences. New perspectives. And I think I need to vent about this a bit…

So here we are— talking about salted butter!

Salted butter, I love you. And I’m sorry I neglected you for years.

IYKYK: unsalted butter is the default choice in the vast majority of recipes and restaurant kitchens.

But what if salted butter actually makes food taste better?

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I’m thrilled to finally share this recipe with you!

They are my new favorite cookie! And I’ve received many compliments from people who have tried them…always a good sign.

I always put a great deal of effort into recipe development before publishing. I want every recipe in My Swedish Chapter to be carefully tested and thoughtfully curated. Subscribing supports my work :)

Most of you reading this aren’t in Sweden, and I’m fully aware of that. Perhaps I’m introducing you to some Swedish things? I got you :) I don’t take that lightly! Swedish culture has a wealth of cultural traditions worth exploring.

What exactly is a citronbiskvi? And why am I sharing it with you?

I had never even heard of them before meeting Peter — they’re his favorite cookie! So naturally I’ve had a fair share of them since we met.

I spot them everywhere in Sweden now! Most bakeries sell them… although, sadly they aren’t always very good…

Biskvier are a classic Swedish pastry-cookie hybrid. The base is a soft, chewy almond cookie topped with a generous mound of flavored buttercream, then dipped in chocolate. When they’re done well, they are absolutely irresistible.

The textures are beautifully balanced: Think biting into a chewy almond cookie, with a silky filling, and a crisp chocolate shell. That is a biskvi.

There are many different flavor variations, though chocolate (chokladbiskvier) seems to be the most common.

I’ve made chokladbiskvier before, and today I’m sharing a lemon version —

Soft and chewy cookie filled with a bright lemon filling, dipped in white chocolate and topped with crunchy pearl sugar.

Since this is Peter’s favorite dessert, it was the treat he requested for his birthday over anything else. Lemon was specifically. I made them for both his actual birthday AND his birthday party with friends.

I had tried several recipes, which helped me develop this version — the one I personally like best!

Below is the recipe with tips!! It is blocked by a paywall because a lot of time and effort goes into developing a recipe. I hope you understand :)

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I’ve hit one month in Sweden! WOOHOO

I’ve spent significant time in Sweden before but it’s different this time— I’m a resident :)

A few days ago, I had a moment that made me feel the magnitude of the shift in my daily life.

I was wandering around the yard in the morning sun, spring birds chirping, wrapped in my robe with a cup of coffee in hand, checking whether the asparagus had grown overnight or if the tulips had finally popped.

Ahem… who am I?
Am I really strolling around the yard, intentionally inspecting these things?

That’s when it hit me: my mornings have completely transformed.

No longer hustling.
Instead—this quiet, indulgent luxury of slow living.

It made me feel older in the best way, and it brought me straight back to my dear grams.

I have vivid memories of being at the cabin with her—watching as she stepped outside in her fluffy navy robe, coffee nearly spilling over in one hand, while I trailed behind with my sisters. We’d meander through the yard, pausing to admire plants and flowers.

At the time, I never quite understood it.
Why did she want to look at these seemingly ordinary plants? What was there to see? Why was she so joyfully invested in it?

Now I get it.

Time—and age—had given her the wisdom to slow down.

Since shifting my life from the relentless pace of NYC to the Swedish countryside (which still makes me laugh sometimes—I actually did it), I’ve begun to see everything through a different lens.

The other day, I told Peter I’ve noticed myself growing impatient with spring.

Why aren’t the leaves out yet?
Why isn’t it warmer?
Where are the flowers?
When can we plant the garden?
Why is everything taking so long?

And then it clicked.

I’ve been handed the ultimate champagne problem: an abundance of time.

Time to notice the subtle, daily changes.
Time to witness things unfold.

Life feels almost suspended—like it’s moving in slow motion.

Back in New York, I was too busy to catch the first leaves unfurling or the quiet bloom of flowers. Now, I see everything as it happens. And somehow, that heightened awareness makes the waiting feel almost unbearable—fueling my naturally impatient streak.

I even catch myself taking more and more pictures of flowers.

I’m trying to savor the moment. It won’t always be this slow—but I’m choosing to meet the moment.

After a full month here, what stands out most is the pace of life—and how deeply welcome this deceleration has been.

I’ve found so much joy in living close to nature. It’s exactly what I was craving when I left NYC—a deeper, more grounded connection to the world around me.

So what has this first month looked like?

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Hej hej, my dearest reader,

Today, we’re talking about fika—my favorite part of daily life here in Sweden.

Sweden is dotted with incredible bakeries and cafés—many of them cozy, welcoming, and always humming with people. And if people aren’t gathering at bakeries, they’re likely at home, baking something delicious themselves.

The bakery culture was one o…

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My Dear Readers,

Time for a recipe! Well—sort of. More of a method!
And not an exact one. I’d love to keep it that way—loose, intuitive, a little bit fluid.

Without overthinking it—like we talked about last week—I want to share more of what I actually cook!

Both recipes AND methods I swear by.
The tiny, almost invisible tricks that make everything better.

Because I’m not just a home cook—I’m a trained culinary professional who is completely, hopelessly obsessed with cooking and baking. Over the years, I’ve picked up some sneaky, brilliant techniques—and it feels like time to pass more of them on.

I think most cooking should be less exact. Even baking—yes, even baking—can stretch and breathe, once you understand where it’s allowed to bend.

We’re cooking here—not performing surgery! It doesn’t always have to be so serious (says the girl who is a perfectionist cook)

To become a better cook, you have to get a little messy with it.
Burn things.
Mismeasure.
Overmix, overcook.
Undercook.
Make a glorious mess of it all…

And alongside that—of course—come the wins! The dishes that turn out wonderfully. The ones that make you pause after the first bite and think, oh wow, I did that. Those moments build confidence. They compound!

But here’s the real magic: when something goes wrong, pay attention. Get curious. Let it teach you something. That’s where the good stuff is—just like in the rest of life. Cooking is the same.

Every good cook you know has earned it the long way—through trial, error, and showing up again anyway.

I used to teach cooking classes in New York City, at Haven’s Kitchen—a café, cooking school, and vibrant little hub tucked into downtown Manhattan. It was one of my longest-held jobs, and easily one of the most meaningful! I did everything: prepping for weddings and parties, assisting classes, and eventually stepping up to teach my own.

I started as an assistant before I felt ready (isn’t that always the way?). Then I taught for a couple years—until the pandemic shifted everything, and Haven’s Kitchen closed its doors as a school.

Teaching cooking might be my favorite thing I’ve ever done in my career—paired only with feeding people and watching them take that first bite.

That moment? Pure joy. I still catch myself staring fully aware it creeps people out :)

Before we dive in, a quick reminder: there are a hundred ways to do anything in the kitchen!!

Cooking is alive. Personal. Ever-changing. You’ll never know it all, and honestly, that’s the best part.

Now—this method. I’ve been wanting to share it for years! It’s how I roast nuts. And whenever I do— I’m always met with compliments.

Roasting your own nuts gives you control over how much you roast them, freshness and salt level.

PLUS, it’s simple. Shockingly simple. After all, it’s roasting nuts. Why bother??
This method transforms something ordinary into something

I learned this technique interning at a bakery in New York City, and I remember being completely amazed. Their almonds came out perfect every single time—deeply golden, perfectly crunchy, salty in the best way—and the method? Almost too easy.

Ready for the surprise?

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On my daily walk through the beautiful countryside of Nyköping—my new home—I found myself wondering what I would write for this week’s post.

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Dear Reader,

How do I get all of my things abroad?
What happens to my phone—do I need a new number?
What about my bank accounts?
Do I keep some open in the U.S., or transfer everything to Sweden?
What happens to my retirement accounts? Should I keep contributing to them, or start new ones in Sweden?
Do I still pay taxes in the U.S.?
What happens to my credit …

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Dear Reader,

There’s a song called “Happy and Sad” by Kacey Musgraves that has been following me around this week.

Which makes sense. Spotify tells me I’m a top listener. I know most of her songs word for word.

Still—this one feels different.

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The time has come. A one-way ticket. My big move to Sweden is here!

Four suitcases might sound like a lot to some—and very little to others. For me, it somehow feels like both not enough and slightly unhinged.

Deciding what to bring reminds me of that familiar question:

While this isn’t quite that dramatic, the selection process still feels surprisingly ruthless.

Luckily, I already have about two suitcases’ worth of belongings waiting for me in Sweden at Peter’s house—past Kelly really did future Kelly a solid there.

Before I left in the fall, I intentionally left a bag behind knowing i’d be moving there eventually. Then, when Peter visited Minnesota in February, I sent another suitcase ahead—filled with everything from a cast iron skillet and rain boots to summer clothes, my favorite ice cream scoop, and my beloved coffee mug. A true mixed bag of “I might need this” energy :)

I move to Sweden on 3/31, which is now less than a week away. I had written about the long wait for my visa—and, almost immediately after publishing, we found out it had been approved. (Manifestation? Timing? Substack magic? We’ll take it.)

It’s surreal to be moving to Sweden. This is something I’ve wanted for so long. And while I’ve spent a significant amount of time there, wrapping my head around the fact that this isn’t just another visit feels almost disorienting—especially when it comes to packing like a person who lives somewhere, not just visits.

I haven’t really had the mental space to prepare until now. This final week is my window to get things moving ;)

I just wrapped up my second sold-out Swedish bullar pop-up in Minnesota, and that had my full attention. I’m the kind of person who needs to focus on one thing at a time to avoid overwhelm—which means I am now speed-running an international move.

Now, I can finally turn to the question at hand:

I’m checking three suitcases, bringing one carry-on, and a backpack as my personal item. Moving this way means I can’t bring everything I love—at least not yet.

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Dear Reader,

Why am I always reaching for perfection in the kitchen?

It shows up in those quiet, anticlimactic moments when I finally sit down to enjoy what I just prepared—only to dismantle the very thing I just made. Not enough salt. Or… yikes, too salty. Could have gone longer. Wait, is that undercooked? Should have done this. Should have done that.

It’…

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365 days ago.

I still remember the exact feeling of hitting send on my resignation email. It’s one of those moments that feels suspended in time.

I was walking away from a Director-level job at Condé Nast with no concrete plan for what came next.

I felt joy. Relief. Fear.

No more Slack. No emails. No more days filled with zoom meetings.

Ho…

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Dear Reader,

There is an undeniable pattern in my life.

Time and time again— many things that I have, I wrote down.

There is great power in words.

Peter recently pointed out how reflective I am. I guess I hadn’t realized it before, but the more I have thought about it, damn was he right. It made me smile that he could see something in me I hadn’t quite clai…

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I want to start off saying a heartfelt, thank you for following along!

It’s joyful to see new subscriber names (sometimes people I know and don’t know—equally exciting) and people simply interested in following this journey. Many of these things i’m sharing makes me feel VERY exposed because it’s all undoubtably personal and happening in real time.

For my fourth entry of My Swedish Chapter, I want to share more about the exciting (and often overwhelming) moment I’m smack in the middle of.

I am currently waiting to hear a decision about my residence permit in Sweden!! WOOHOO!

A sharp pivot in my life—and the backbone of why I started this Substack in the first place: to document my transition to moving abroad.

As I’ve previously shared, I have fallen in love with a wonderful Swedish man—Peter. And I will be moving to Sweden to be with him.

In order to make an international relationship work,

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Dear Reader,

When I first thought about starting a Substack, I knew one thing right away: I didn’t want it to be solely about food or about churning out an unrealistic volume of recipes. I wanted to write with integrity — about the deeper things that consume my mind —and to share my personal journey of following my dreams.

I’m not a surface-level kind of gal.

Food media, as it currently exists, feels extremely saturated— attention-grabbing and rather boring — and from personal experience I know it is largely run by SEO (which is the underlying reason for my exit from the industry). Very few recipes published by both long-standing media outlets and influencers truly feel original.

This is simply my opinion, and it comes with no disrespect. I was part of that world for many years. I’ll digress more on this soon. That’s a promise.

Although I had clear intentions not to make food the central focus of this space— it will inevitably weave itself into portion. I have always been obsessed with food— and will always be.

I’m fully aware of the particular fire and devotion I carry for it — the kind that propels me forward and urges me to leap toward my dreams.

The first recipe I’m choosing to share is a very simple one and aligns perfectly with the theme of my life:

Swedish Drömmar cookies. Drömmar means “dreams” in Swedish.

It should be noted: Swedes LOVE cookies. I’ve found everyone loves these. They are, at their core, a very simple cookie — modest in both preparation and ingredients — and still, they hit. Light, crisp, delicate. You will reach for another.

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It’s scary to quit something. We’ve all felt it one way or another. Some quitting is done quietly, without even realizing. Other times, it can be all consuming.

The fear of actually quitting can be paralyzing. It can stop you before you ever move. I’ve met a lot of miserable people (especially in NYC) who knowingly aren’t willing to stop the very thing that’s making them unhappy—usually because there are very good, very logical reasons to stay.

The desire to quit starts as a whisper.
Ignore it long enough and it gets loud.

There’s also the question of

It took me years before I was willing to quit. Perhaps waiting for the “right” time.

I keep thinking about the small moments that stay in your head. The ones that don’t feel dramatic at the time, but quietly shift something inside you. The ones that follow you around.

I had a few of those in New York—moments when I realized my life wasn’t really what I wanted anymore.

And I knew, even then, that moving wouldn’t magically fix everything. Still, I wasn’t honest with myself. I ignored my gut. I told myself I just needed more time. I also felt like I had unfinished business. The timing was wrong I convinced myself.

Shortly after these feelings started, in 2021, my younger sister Katie and her then fiancé came to visit me. I remember feeling especially moody, so we took a walk through Central Park to clear my head. At some point she stopped and asked me, very directly,
“Do you even want to be here anymore?”

I immediately started sobbing. Like, no warning. No control.
And the answer showed up before I could stop it.

“No,” I told her.
I didn’t want to live in NYC anymore. This was my first acknowledgment of wanting to leave.

One of the biggest reasons I stayed was my career. In food media, full-time jobs are rare. I was lucky enough to land my absolute dream job at Bon Appétit. Before I got a full-time role at Condé Nast, I hustled hard—multiple jobs, constant learning, meeting everyone I could. I was in it. I loved the growth. I loved feeling like I was building something.

I was also on a mission to make enough money to live far from home but still be able to go back whenever I wanted. Comfortably. Without guilt.

The prospect of leaving New York felt like quitting.
Quitting the dream I worked so hard for.
Not to mention the job that took years to get.
Leaving my friends, my cute little Upper West Side apartment, and a steady, comfortable paycheck.

And even though I feel a little weird admitting this—it also meant no more free food showing up in the mail. No restaurant invites. No special events.

I would just be Kelly Janke.
Not Kelly Janke who lives in NYC and works at Bon Appétit.

AND the honest truth was— I didn’t even like my job anymore. BUT I didn’t know what would come next.

Moving closer to family mattered. A lot.
But so did finding a partner. Starting a family of my own.

I never thought that at 35 I wouldn’t be married or have kids. And I couldn’t shake this feeling that if I was on the wrong path, I wouldn’t find the right things—people, relationships, jobs. Any of it.

Lifestyle became mismatched. I needed nature, space, more freedom. I knew no amount of money would change this.

I needed to get back on a path that felt honest.
That held integrity.

I found a therapist and really examined my unsettled feelings. I knew I absolutely didn’t want to leave NYC while feeling unmoored.

A couple years went by but I kept coming back to the same feelings. SO, I made a deal with myself at the end of 2023: one more lease. One more year.
Then I’m out.

Plenty of time to figure it out. A cushy runway of time.

Through all the confusion that came from this decision, what pushed me towards Sweden, came unexpectedly. I was on a date! I’ve told this story a lot because it stuck.

It was a sweet summer night—ice cream, park benches, and a cute dog. We were talking about our dreams, and I mentioned how I’ve always wanted to own a Swedish bakery. And how I’ve been obsessed with the idea of baking in Sweden.

He looked at me, genuinely confused, and asked why I wasn’t doing that.

I blamed my job.
I blamed New York.
I filled in the excuses.

But the truth was simpler.

I was scared.
Scared to walk away from what I had.
From what I knew.
From what felt certain.

It’s been over a year since I left New York. I’m standing on the other side of that decision—the decision to quit. And somehow, I feel only gratitude that I jumped. No regret.

I met many kind people over the last year, grew both personally and professionally and… fell in love.

And I can’t help but ask myself: What if I never had the courage to quit?

I’d like to ask you—

Have you been thinking about quitting something? Something you know in your gut isn’t aligned with you anymore?

What could happen if you quit?

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I know, I know… everyone seems to have a substack. Or at least in my orbit.

I wanted a small corner of the internet for myself. A place to document and share an unexpected, exciting new chapter in my life.

In many ways, this feels like a full-circle moment.

Before I moved to NYC in 2014 to chase my dream of working in food media, I had a food blog. I remember finishing my undergrad degree and feeling completely untethered—unsure of what I wanted to do, but certain that whatever it was needed to feel meaningful. Career fulfillment mattered to me more than anything.

I had always been obsessed with cooking and all things food. Still, I told myself it couldn’t be a career. Mostly because of the things everyone warns you about: the low pay, the physical toll, the instability. I should also mention, when I was young it simply wasn’t cool.

The passion was there, undeniably so. What wasn’t there was proof or experience.

So I started small. I volunteered to assist a chef at a food demo at The Mill City Farmers Market in downtown Minneapolis. Then, during what now feels like the golden age of blogging, I started a blog called Left Side of the Table. I posted recipes and essays consistently. I learned. I grew it slowly, eventually turning a small profit. And somewhere along the way, I realized I enjoyed writing and creating recipes—and that others seemed to love it too!

That was the moment I decided to take it to the next level.

I enrolled in culinary school in NYC where the heart of food media was at the time. With the help of my dear mom, we packed the car and moved me across the country.

I set my sights to get a job in food television or a major food publication. Through a combination of hard work and the luck you create for yourself when you commit fully, I made it happen.

And yet—dreams don’t always end neatly. They evolve. They shift.

I had a truly incredible ten years in New York. I’m proud of the career I built and the person I became there. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t happy anymore. It didn’t matter what job I had or how much money I made. There were many moments I knew I needed change. One specific moment I’ll never forget that ignited the desire within me to shift. Laying in bed on a Sunday morning, looking around my little apartment and thinking “is this all there is to my life” (perhaps sounds a bit dramatic but I can remember this moment and feeling so clearly.) The city no longer felt like home. And food media, once my great vice, no longer felt like the right fit.

More on that later.

Which brings me to this very moment.

In March 2025, with careful planning, I quit my what I referred to as my “fluffy” job and took a self-inflicted sabbatical. I fulfilled a longtime dream and went to Sweden to intern at bakeries.

What I didn’t expect was how much I would change during that time—or that I would fall in love with a sexy Swedish man :)

Suddenly, the future I’d imagined looked very different.

What was once a comical dream of finding a European partner became my reality. A beautiful one. A complicated one.
More on that later, too.

I’ve applied for a Swedish visa and will be moving to Sweden once it’s approved (fingers crossed—nothing is guaranteed). After a lot of thought, Substack felt like the right place to share this experience. An intimate space to write honestly about moving abroad, starting a new era, and figuring things out as I go.

I’m well aware I’m not the first to do this. But hey, we all carry our stories differently.

In this space, I’ll weave together my move to Sweden and my enduring love of food—two things I remain deeply obsessed with. You’ll receive essays, recipes, culture, recommendations and more? I want to write with integrity, keep things feeling personal and original, and hopefully offer something that feels a little different.

Like many, writing has always been part of how I understand myself. I have a lot of deep thoughts and strong opinions. Until now, it’s been private.

Now, I’m letting it be seen. Choosing my curiosity instead of certainty.

Tack så mycket (thank you in Swedish!) for reading and having interest!

LOTS more to come. I’m thrilled for the evolution of my writing and to let creativity flow. The best part of having a substack is no ideas to get approved or SEO directive. And you know what:

A quote I often write in my journal— and constantly remind myself.

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