Hi there, I’m Maria Bakalova, and I’m so glad you stopped by. I’m 42 years old and live just outside Asheville, North Carolina, tucked between the Blue Ridge Mountains and a backyard herb garden that grows a little wilder every spring. Cooking wasn’t always part of the plan—I spent more than a decade as a high school English teacher—but somewhere between my grandmother’s Sunday pies and my late-night experiments with spicy stews, food quietly became the way I told my story.

I grew up in a small town in Tennessee, in a house where meals weren’t fancy but always felt like home. My mom cooked simple comfort classics: chicken and dumplings, skillet cornbread, peach cobbler with a crust that was always a bit too sweet. But it was my grandma Edie who made food feel magical. She never measured, rarely used recipes, and somehow turned whatever she had in the pantry into something unforgettable. I’d sit on the counter watching her hands move, flour dusting the air, windows fogged from a pot bubbling on the stove.

It wasn’t until my thirties that cooking really took hold of me. I started baking bread just to unwind on weekends… then I got bold with fermentation, pickling anything I could drag home from the farmers market. Soon enough, friends were calling whenever they needed comfort food or a standout potluck dish. I didn’t go to culinary school—I went to life school. And that’s the kind of kitchen I believe in: a place where mistakes are ingredients, and laughter matters as much as salt.

My cooking style is rustic, hearty, and a little adventurous. I love food that feels real—slow-braised roasts, messy berry galettes, smoky beans with ham hock. I believe in sourcing local ingredients, honoring the seasons, and letting food speak for itself. And I believe cooking shouldn’t intimidate anyone. You don’t need fancy gear or twelve exotic spices. You just need a little time, a little love, and the courage to try.

These days, I share my recipes and stories with home cooks like you—people juggling work, family, and the desire to put something warm and delicious on the table. Whether it’s your first roasted chicken or your hundredth sourdough attempt, I’m here to cheer you on. I’ve burned things. I’ve forgotten salt. I’ve watched cakes fall and pies explode. And I still show up in the kitchen, because nothing beats watching someone take that first bite and smile.

So welcome to my little corner of the world. Pour yourself a cup of coffee, grab a whisk, and let’s cook something wonderful together.