What We Hold, What We Release

There’s something happening right now that I can feel in my bones.

Not in a loud, obvious way—but in a steady, quiet unfolding.

Things are clicking into place.
Not perfectly. Not all at once.
But in a way that feels… right.

And I think what I’m really feeling is appreciation.
And awe.
And acceptance.

The kind where you take comfort even in the challenges—because somewhere deep down, you trust that you’ll move through them with grace.

For what was.
For what is.
And for what’s coming.

And maybe it’s also the time of year.

Spring is about to be sprung, and I for one am very ready for it. You can feel it in the air—that shift. The excitement. The sense that something new is right around the corner.

Summer on the horizon.
New chapters emerging.

My kids are growing in front of my eyes.

Senior year. Sophomore year. Somehow already on the horizon.

And it’s not just time moving—it’s who they’re becoming.

But I’ll be honest… this stage isn’t all sunshine and roses.

As they grow into themselves, their personalities get bigger—and so do their opinions. They feel like adults… but they’re still not driving themselves everywhere, or cleaning up their own literal filthy messes in their rooms or the kitchen without being asked.

And sometimes, it’s a lot.

There are moments that feel like clouds and thunder and lightning in the form of a look that says, “don’t talk to me, mom.”

And I get it.

I was an unpleasant teenage girl once. I gave my parents way more stress than either of my kids give me.

So when those moments come up, I try to remind myself—this is a blip on the radar of life. They need to go through these phases to grow into who they’re becoming.

This age is really about refining the parenting we’ve done all these years.

Even if you’ve done a great job—and I do believe I have—there are always things you look back on and think… maybe I helped too much here, or not enough there.

And now it’s about recalibrating.

As I was explaining to my dad this morning, I feel a responsibility to show them what the real world looks like—where people aren’t always going to go out of their way to accommodate you, especially at a cost to themselves.

That’s part of the lesson now.

And within all of that…

Gabriella is navigating a tough moment right now, with her knee and the surgery and all the insurance hoops we’re jumping through before we can even plan it. It’s not easy to watch your child be in pain, or to see something they were excited about shift so suddenly.

She had this dream she had planned for her junior year track season—and she let herself feel that. She took a moment to mourn it.

And then… she moved forward.

I’m so proud of her. Truly.

Adrian, on the other hand, has been at home cooking for himself while I’ve been gone, moving between the kitchen and his music. Sending me rough drafts, asking for feedback, letting me into his process.

I love those moments with him.
They feel like little windows into who he’s becoming.

And then there’s my dad.

He has always been the one who shows up. For everything.
Little league games, high school meets, ballet recitals—anything he can possibly be at, he’s there.

Solid. Consistent. Loving.

Poppy. Dad. The center of so many moments.

And this week, I get to show up for him.

We’re all going to watch him perform at his club’s talent show at Valencia Palms, and I cannot wait. I already know I’m going to laugh, and I might cry a little too—just out of pride.

It feels really special to be on the other side of that for once.

I’m in Boston right now for work, and I have to say—I’m really loving living here for a couple of weeks.

I’m here working on a new menu right now, and it’s been really special to be part of this team.

Everyone shows up and does their part. There’s a rhythm to it. People care, they collaborate, they listen—and it all fits together in a way that feels easy and aligned.

They’ve welcomed me in so openly, and that doesn’t always happen. It’s something I don’t take for granted.

There’s a real shared love for good food, good systems, and getting things right—and you can feel it. It’s a reminder of how much a strong team matters. When everyone knows their role and cares about the outcome, everything moves differently.

There’s something about being in a city with purpose, but still getting to move through it like a local, even briefly. It shifts how you see everything.

This trip has felt… easy.

Traveling with Evan was seamless—truly zero stress, which feels like a miracle these days with everything going on in the world and at TSA. We just moved through it, calm and lucky and in sync.

And then we explored.

Cambridge, the South End, Seaport—we walked everywhere. We went to the planetarium, which I hadn’t been to in years, and when Evan suggested it I got so excited. It felt like being a kid again for a minute.

We had a day where it snowed.
And another that was 70 degrees and sunny.

Boston really gave us everything.

[Photo: Boston scene — street, Cambridge, snow vs. sunny contrast, or planetarium moment]

And so did the food.

Elephantine—an asiago pretzel that was everything I want in a pretzel. Deeply golden, slightly burnt in the best way, with that gooey, salty, nutty asiago baked in.

Flour Bakery had a brown sugar almond meringue that was just right.

Blue Bottle always gets me. There’s one in the Ferry Building in San Francisco, and every time I take a sip of a cortado I can close my eyes and picture it. The Boston location had a brown butter pecan blondie that I’m still thinking about.

Mr. H—elevated Chinese, and the mushroom rice roll was my favorite thing there.

Borachito—those shrimp tacos were a favorite. I had them twice.

PopUp Bagels is such an interesting concept. No less than three bagels at a time, served warm with cream cheese or butter to dip into. Great in the moment, a little different as they cool—smart, thoughtful, and clearly working.

Van Leeuwen… I forget sometimes how well they execute. Earl Grey and caramel butter cake—so good.

And Chickadee, my last night in Boston, was just great.

Hen of the woods mushrooms so crispy you could hear the crackle in your mouth, over whipped potato and roasted garlic. An asparagus fattoush that brought every texture and flavor you could imagine—each bite I found myself asking, what was that piece?

And somehow… the best thing I ate all week was something I made myself.

I went to Boston Provisions and found the most beautiful scallops.

Sweet, perfect, pristine.

I went home, heated up olive oil and butter, got the pan really hot, hard sear on both sides, finished with coarse salt.

That was it.

I thought I’d just taste one.

One turned into two, two turned into four—and suddenly I was standing in my kitchen, eating them straight from the pan because I couldn’t even wait to sit down.

Those moments… they remind me why I do what I do.

[Photo: scallops in pan or plated — this is your hero food shot]

There’s a lot happening right now.

Big things. Moving pieces. The kind of life moments that could easily tip into stress if I let them.

But I’ve been really intentional about staying close to what keeps me steady.

Coffee in the morning.
Moments of quiet.
Faith in the process.

And lately, matcha too.

A new colleague I met shares my love for quality food and beverage, and introduced me to ceremonial matcha from Kettl—made properly, in a bowl, whisked, slow. It’s been such a beautiful addition to my mornings.

There’s something about small rituals like that… they bring you back to yourself.

And that’s been my anchor.

Not forcing anything.
Not rushing outcomes.
Just trusting that things are unfolding exactly as they should.

I’ve been thinking a lot about appreciation.

Not just for the good moments—but for all of it.

For what was.
For what is.
For what’s still becoming.

And part of that… is learning to let things move.

To let people be where they are.
To let seasons change.
To let things end, or shift, or evolve—without needing to force them to stay the same. Because I am a BIG believer in the fact that things DO happen for a reason, and in the end it is all for my greater good.

Sometimes that means loss.
Sometimes it means distance.
Sometimes it just means growing in different directions.

But there’s something really peaceful about trusting that too.

Appreciating what something was, fully.
Being present with what it is.
And having faith in what’s coming next.

Without gripping too tightly.

There’s also something I’ve been noticing in a very real way.

How a few small shifts in your life—how you spend your time, who you spend it with, what you choose to carry—can free up so much space.

In your mind.
In your energy.
In your actual day-to-day life.

It’s almost surprising how much room opens up when things start to align.

And how much lighter everything feels when you’re no longer forcing what doesn’t fit.

Elephantine (Boston – South End)
Asiago pretzel, baguette
Deeply golden, slightly burnt in the best way, with gooey, salty, nutty asiago baked in. Exactly what I want from a pretzel.

Flour Bakery (Boston – multiple locations)
Brown sugar almond meringue
Light, nutty, just sweet enough. A classic done really well.

Blue Bottle Coffee (Boston – Seaport + Cambridge)
Cortado, brown butter pecan blondie
Always consistent. The espresso is dialed in, and the blondie is nutty, toasty, and a sleeper hit.

Mr. H (Boston – Seaport)
Mushroom rice roll
Umami-packed, perfectly chewy and tender, slightly slippery in that ideal way.

Chickadee (Boston – Seaport)
Hen of the woods, asparagus fattoush
Crispy mushrooms over whipped potato and roasted garlic, plus a salad that keeps surprising you every bite.

Borachito (Boston – Seaport)
Shrimp tacos
Simple, craveable, and something I went back for more than once.

PopUp Bagels (Boston – Back Bay)
Bagels and schmear
Served warm, light, and meant to be eaten immediately. A smart, experience-driven concept.

Van Leeuwen Ice Cream (Boston – Back Bay)
Earl Grey, caramel butter cake
I forget how good they are until I have it again—balanced, rich, and really well executed.

Wishing you a season filled with appreciation—for what was, what is, and what’s still unfolding.
May you find peace in letting go, confidence in what you’re building, and a little more space—both in your life and in your mind.

May spring bring fresh energy, new perspective, and the reminder that growth doesn’t always have to feel heavy.

Love your people.
Let things evolve.
Trust yourself through all of it.

With love, gratitude, and so much flavor,
Nicole’'

chefnicole | Nicole’s Global Palate | LinkedIn | For Good Sauce | Flavor First: Fuss-Free Summer Recipes | Flavor & Founder

If this resonated, hit reply and tell me—
what are you holding onto right now, and what are you ready to release?

I always love hearing from you.