Maybe you figured Make It Like a Man! would be about hunting deer, carving out steaks from them, and then cooking those steaks over a campfire, caveman-style. Or maybe you came looking for a way to convert your snow blower into a pasta machine. I mean, in theory, that thing ought to be able to spit out pasta and land it on a plate 20 yards away. And you should be able to convert it with just a screw driver or something. Amiright?

Sad fact is, I’m dangerous when I’ve got a screwdriver (tool) in my hand – especially when I also have a screwdriver (vodka and OJ) in my other hand.

This blog has evolved over time, as have I.

When I first started this blog, men who were taking on the role of home chef were something of a novelty, but their numbers were increasing. However, I am much, much older than this blog. Many years before I began this blog, back when I first decided that I wanted to be responsible for all the cooking and grocery shopping in my house, it was a lot more than novel … it was downright suspect. As the tide began to shift in my direction, and more men began to join the ranks, I felt that I had a lot to say … a lot to bring to the table.

Over the time that I’ve been blogging, being a man who cooks seems less and less remarkable. What began to seem important instead was that I was someone with a day job who had figured out how to stop at the store on the way home from work and get dinner on the table with enough time left over to watch American Ninja Warrior and fall asleep on the couch.

That ultimately led to one of the defining features of this blog: how to cook in a straightforward, logical way that acknowledges time constraints and doesn’t fully exhaust you, while still producing amazing, sometimes even restaurant-quality, food. A lot of times, that involves finding less fussy ways to do things, perhaps producing a dish that is less refined, but no less delightful. A lot of times, it also means producing leftovers on purpose, to get us through the week.

More fun facts about me:

I love to eat. I have a wide palate. I’m equally at home at a nine-course tasting menu with wine pairings at Topolabompo as I am with both hands gripping a backyard barbecue cheeseburger. I grew up eating Polish foods, and many of the Polish-American recipes on this blog are not only as authentic as your Polish grandmother, but are also absolutely kick-ass.

I lean heavily toward less-processed ingredients. I like to do things from scratch. I love making remarkably good food. I love to be that guy who brings something to a potluck, and people go, where’d you buy that, and I’m like, I made it, and they’re like, what the fuck?

Levels of Home Cooking:

The recipes on this blog fall into these categories – most of them fall into Category 3. 

6. Science Project / Deep Dive: the primary goal for recipes in this category isn’t “dinner tonight,” but rather mastery, experimentation, or preservation. This is food that requires a long runway, specific chemistry, or multi-day fermentation. Think of baking artisan sourdough from scratch, attempting to recreate something from The Great British Baking Show, or homemade yogurt.

5. Restaurant Quality: this is “peak execution” level. It’s the kind of cooking that few home chefs take on. This category focuses on precision and sensory impact. It means I’ve hit the exact right internal temperature on a protein, achieved the perfect sear, balanced the acidity in a reduction, or nailed a complex texture. It doesn’t have to mean tweezers and microgreens; it just means the execution is so flawless that if I paid money for it at a good establishment, I’d be thrilled. I’m not pretending I’m a professional chef, but I’m pretty proud of my work.

4. Special Occasion: The addition of some degree of formality here is one of the key differentiators. Impressiveness is the other. This level isn’t just about the food; it’s about the theater of dining, but in a homemade context. This is where you might bring out multi-course meals, timed coordination, or labor-intensive dishes that require you to be a bit more tethered to the kitchen right before serving. It’s cooking as a gift or an event for others. It’s a home-cooking version of restaurant fare.

3. Elevated: this is arguably the most satisfying tier for me. It’s the sweet spot where my unschooled culinary skill shines. I’m not making a fuss, but I’m using smart techniques to make standard meals exceptional – like using a high-end countertop air fryer to get an impeccably crisp skin on a weeknight chicken breast, blooming spices in fat before building a sauce, or finishing a simple pasta with the perfect splash of starchy cooking water and high-quality cheese. It’s everyday food with zero laziness. Even though it is home cooking, a lot of people don’t ever get this kind of food at home.

2. Everyday: the “no-fuss” baseline. This is functional, nourishing fuel. It’s the reliable Instant Pot soup, the quick scramble, or the straightforward tray-bake. There’s no pressure for it to be a masterpiece; its job is to be comforting, efficient, and consistent day-in and day-out. I might share food like this casually with good friends.

1: Survival / Minimal Effort: zero bandwidth, or clearing out the fridge. This is the realm of assembly rather than cooking. It’s the “scrounge night” dinner – cold leftovers eaten straight from the container, a random plate of crackers, cheese, and sliced apples, or a frozen meal. It requires zero culinary thought and exists purely for maintenance. Normally, I don’t think that food in this category belongs on my blog, but sometimes I think it’s important to say, “Hey, this is what I eat when I’m starving and I have, like, five minutes.” It’s entirely practical.

I’m an academic by nature and trade, and in all of my recipes, in all of these categories, I try to document several things: notes about the ingredients and the method, how I determine serving sizes; whether leftovers are viable, and if so, how to warm them up; and what I learned in the process of making this dish. Also, if whatever led me to make a particular dish has a backstory, I like to talk about that, too.

I say “my” recipes, but that’s hardly true. Most of the things I make started out as someone else’s recipe, or several someone else’s. I always document that, and cite my sources. It’s only fair. Sometimes, I’ve merely adapted someone else’s recipe for my writing style, equipment, and preferences. I usually cite that in the text. Other times, I used someone else’s recipe as a launchpad to create something of my own. I usually cite that in the fine print. If you ever spot a mistake in any of these citations, please let me know. Or if you object to having your work referenced in this way, let me know that, too.