To make Garten's comforting pasta dish, you'll need:

• 1 pound of ground lamb
• 1 pound of rigatoni (Garten recommends De Cecco)
• 1 can of crushed tomatoes (such as San Marzano)
• 1 pound of fresh mozzarella
• ½ cup of freshly grated Italian Parmesan cheese
• 2 ½ cups of dry red wine (Garten recommends Chianti or Côtes du Rhône)
• ⅔ cup of heavy cream
• 2 extra-large eggs
• 3 large carrots, diced
• 1 medium fennel bulb, diced
• 1 large yellow onion, chopped
• 3 cloves of garlic, minced
• 2 tablespoons of tomato paste
• 2 tablespoons of fresh parsley
• 1 tablespoon of whole fennel seeds, roughly chopped
• 1 teaspoon of dried oregano
• ½ teaspoon of crushed red pepper flakes

There's a lot to this recipe, so it might help to have a sous chef. I had my friend Zach, who loves making pasta, on hand to help me with this cooking project.

First, per Garten's instructions, I chopped my yellow onion, diced my carrots and fennel bulb, minced the garlic, and roughly chopped the fennel seeds.

First, we added the onion, carrots, and fennel to the pot.

We sautéed the veggies for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally until they began to brown.

We let the mixture cook for eight minutes, breaking up the lamb with a wooden spoon and stirring until it was no longer pink.

We added the tomato paste and two cups of red wine (I went with Chianti), along with the oregano, red pepper flakes, and some salt and pepper.

I also threw in the San Marzano tomatoes, which I crushed in the pot with a wooden spoon.

I brought the Dutch oven to a boil, then lowered the heat and let it simmer — partly covered — for 40 minutes.

Per Garten's instructions, I also stirred the sauce occasionally while it was cooking.

I brought a large pot of water to boil, added salt, and then threw in the box of rigatoni. Garten recommends cooking your noodles until they're "barely al dente."

I took the Dutch oven off the heat and stirred in the remaining half cup of Chianti.

Garten's recipe calls for grating half of the fresh mozzarella on a box grater and slicing the other half.

Grating mozzarella is no easy feat. We tried one of Zach's tricks — putting the cheese in the freezer for a bit to harden it — but the task was still a struggle, so we ultimately used a knife to chop up the rest.

First, we whisked the eggs and cream together in a bowl, then added it to the rigatoni.

We threw in some more salt and pepper, per Garten's instructions, and mixed everything together.

We sprinkled everything with Parmesan cheese, then arranged the slices of mozzarella right on top.

The dish already looked delicious, but, alas, we'd have to wait. We set the timer for 40 minutes and popped the dish in the oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

We took the baking dish out of the oven and sprinkled some parsley on top before serving it to our very excited (and very hungry) friends, who thought it had been worth the wait.

"The melted mozzarella on top of the lamb ragù added the perfect amount of creamy cheesiness, and the lamb was melt-in-your-mouth cooked to perfection," my friend Tyler said. "The sauce was so good."

"The dish reminded me of a cross between Bolognese and a baked ziti!" my friend Sara added. "Definitely a labor of love, but to someone not cooking, highly worth it!"

My sous chef, Zach, also loved the taste, although he didn't agree that it was worth the extra effort.

"As Prue would say on 'The Great British Bake-off,' it was worth the calories — but I wouldn't say it was worth the time," he said. "While it was definitely fun cooking it, I think you could genuinely make a dish that was 90% as good with just focusing on the ragù and broiling the pasta versus fully baking it."

The cooking process for Garten's baked rigatoni was definitely laborious, and I agree with Zach that the lamb ragù would make an incredible sauce even without the extra baking time. But you can also make most of the dish a day in advance. Per Garten's advice, just follow all the steps for the ragù, refrigerate it, and bake it just before serving the next day.

Garten's "outrageous" garlic bread was so good that it almost stole the show from the lamb ragù. Everyone loved the crunchy exterior, and the lemon zest and parsley on top added a nice brightness to all that garlic.

"I could have eaten an entire baguette's worth of the garlic bread," Tyler said.

Overall, the two dishes were perfect comfort food, just as Garten promised. When winter feels never-ending — as this one certainly has — what better way to get through than with some garlic bread and ragù?

Once a farm of lemon and black walnut trees, the property became an established beach hotel by 1910, according to Rosewood Miramar Beach's website.

Originally named Miramar By The Sea, the hotel was beloved by legendary newspaper publisher William Randolph Hearst, who would stop by on his way to Hearst Castle.

Miramar closed in 2000 and remained empty for nearly two decades. Caruso purchased the estate in 2007, and after years of renovations, the Rosewood Miramar Beach opened in 2019.

Rosewood Miramar Beach is currently one of only 15 properties worldwide to hold a triple Five-Star title from the Forbes Travel Guide, which means its hotel, restaurant, and spa have all received five stars.

But those aren't the only stars attached to the resort. Rosewood Miramar Beach also quickly caught the attention of Hollywood, attracting everyone from Patrick Schwarzenegger and Larry David to Travis Barker and Kourtney Kardashian, who got engaged at the property in 2021.

One of my favorite places in the 16-acre property was this gorgeous hall in the resort's main building.

The classic red roses popped against the black-and-white checkerboard floor, which was illuminated by a dazzling chandelier and flanked by a spiral staircase. It felt opulent and modern all at once.

Rosewood Miramar Beach has 119 rooms and 34 suites, offering garden bungalows or beach-facing retreats that start at $1,695 a night. Business Insider received a media rate for accommodations and dining during the two-night stay.

My stylish 960-square-foot suite came with a large wooden deck with sweeping views of the Pacific Ocean.

The interior leaned into the nautical theme with textured blue-and-white pinstripe wallpaper, blue and gold lamps, and complimentary beach bags.

It was a warm and charming room, unafraid of mixing bold fabrics and chic fixtures that added plenty of personality.

AMA Sushi's interior is a beautiful study of sleek Japanese minimalism. The marble sushi bar seemed to glow against the dark wood walls while a fireplace roared under a moody painting of the moon. The atmosphere was both serene and sexy.

Our $135 omakase menu began with a delicious snow crab, followed by a sashimi course featuring bluefin tuna.

One of my favorite dishes of the night was the delicious red miso soup with clams, which, per Japanese tradition, came at the end of dinner.

With its wood-paneled walls, velvet seats, and stuffed bookshelves, The Manor Bar felt like the kind of library you'd find at a sprawling estate in the English countryside. The lights were dim, but the bar was packed and brimming with energy. I was almost shocked it didn't smell like cigar smoke.

As a former English major, I loved the creative cocktail menu, which featured drinks named after iconic literary villains. The "Lady Macbeth" melded gin with pineapple, roasted banana, and cinnamon, while the "Tom Buchanan" had two types of Johnnie Walker whiskey, plus tawny port and bitters.

Even the rainy morning couldn't damper my mood as I watched the ocean from the comfort of my plush king bed.

The French doors offered a perfect sea view, making the suite feel incredibly romantic.

The Revere Room's Tiffany-blue walls were covered in illustrations of white roses and bluebirds. Frosted Christmas trees twinkled in the corner for the holidays while natural light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling French doors.

We started with the gluten-free lemon ricotta pancakes, which had a lovely fluffy texture and were served with a delicious blueberry sauce. Then came the breakfast sammie, which stuffed a fried egg, bacon, and Havarti cheese between two soft and flaky homemade sourdough slices.

The centerpiece of Rosewood Miramar Beach is the Manor House, which includes the lobby, ocean-view guest rooms, luxury retail stores, The Manor Bar, and The Revere Room.

Tucked behind the Manor House is a massive and perfectly manicured lawn, which made me feel like I was in someone's incredibly nice backyard. Since the resort is kid and pet-friendly, the lawn was frequently filled with children chasing after their adorable pups.

The resort could have easily coasted on its beach access alone, but every inch of the estate is designed to evoke beauty and elegance.

The air is naturally perfumed with scents from the gardenia and lavender bushes, while citrus, olive, and fishtail palm trees dot the property. Everything was pruned to perfection, nary a leaf or petal out of place.

Rick Fidel, the resort's managing director, told me that Rosewood Miramar Beach was designed to make guests feel like they were "being hosted in a private home."

If it weren't for the beautiful weather at the end of November, you could easily forget you were in California. As I walked around the property, I felt like I had been transported to Martha's Vineyard or the set of a Nancy Meyers movie.

I didn't squeeze in a workout during my stay, but I had to check out the resort's indoor/outdoor fitness studio, where guests can enjoy weekly fitness classes and private personal training sessions.

Treadmills, bikes, and elliptical machines dotted the gym's patio, while Pelotons, weights, and StairMasters could be found inside.

The cotton-candy-pink Miramar Jolly cars are inspired by the open-top taxis of Capri. They feature wicker seats and canopies and are free for guests who want to be chauffeured to the beach or around the property.

The oceanfront Miramar Beach Bar is a small restaurant on the deck above Caruso's, the resort's Michelin-starred restaurant. It was just steps away from our beach suite and offered gorgeous views of the sea sparkling under the California sun.

Our tacos — tempura fish and red chili-braised beef — were solid but couldn't compete with our breakfast at The Revere Room or our dinners at AMA Sushi and Caruso's. Next time, I'd skip the food at Miramar Beach Bar and just grab a drink while watching the sunset.

According to Rosewood Miramar's website, the family that first owned the property — which was originally a farm — decided to build a guest house after the train tracks were built in 1887. The Pacific Surfliner and Coast Starlight Amtrak now cut through the resort en route to the Santa Barbara Amtrak station.

The tracks are gated, and a guard is always on duty for safety purposes. While the trains didn't pass by very frequently, it was fun watching everyone around us stop to admire them whenever one came through.

Before dinner, I had the opportunity to sit down with Massimo Falsini, the chef at Caruso's and director of culinary operations at Rosewood Miramar Beach.

Falsini's menu seamlessly blends his Italian roots with California ingredients. All the seafood at Caruso's is "from the ocean in front of you," Falsini told me, including the spiny Santa Barbara lobster and the signature Channel Islands halibut (which were both fantastic).

"We don't fly in anything; we only buy from local small fishermen in order to support the community," said the chef, who hopes to make Caruso's a zero-carbon footprint restaurant by 2026.

The open-air space allows you to hear the waves and smell the sea as you dine amid the beautiful navy-blue leather booths and pristine white chairs.

The service was impeccable from start to finish, as was my $175 four-course dinner. The amuse-bouches included cones stuffed with caviar and gougères plump with truffle cream. Olive oil was decanted tableside for the bread basket, and the Baja Kanpachi crudo looked like a work of art.

One of my favorite courses of the night was the honeynut squash vellutata soup, which was topped with an intricate tuile of vines and tasted like autumn.

The dinner was so good that I think the restaurant deserves a second Michelin star.

Read my full review of Caruso's here.

The resort has two pools on the property. We spent our time at the cabana pool, which is for adults 21 and up and features 19 cabanas, plus a bar and a large jacuzzi. The cabana pool features a scalloped zero-edge border, a design choice that makes it feel whimsical.

For those with kids in tow, there's also the kid-friendly manor pool. We stopped by to check out the Scoop Shop, which is right next to the pool and offers gourmet burgers and house-made gelato.

While checking in at the resort, we learned there were s'mores kits at the front desk, which we could always pick up and enjoy by one of the fire pits.

I finally got to try the kit on our last day, opening the bag to find the most classic of s'mores ingredients: Honey Maid graham crackers, Hershey's milk chocolate, and Jet-Puffed marshmallows.

My boyfriend and I giggled like kids at camp as we used the provided wooden sticks to roast our marshmallows over the fire before building our s'mores.

After such a rainy weekend, it felt fitting to end our stay with the sun shining down on us at the beach.

If it had been summer weather, I could've easily laid on the sand all day. The resort offers complimentary chairs, umbrellas, and beach toys, as well as equipment for paddleboarding, kayaking, and beach volleyball.

There's a designated beach butler who brings food and drinks, and the resort even has a falconer who helps keep seagulls and pigeons at bay.

In the era of #quietluxury, which I detested, many people equated splendor with mundane. The colors went neutral, patterns disappeared, and everything felt inoffensive and uninspired. It was all very beige, like a plate at Thanksgiving.

But Rosewood Miramar Beach isn't afraid to make the space feel comfortable yet distinct, even with the luxury price tag. There's a fine line between Nantucket and coastal grandma, and the resort knows exactly where to stand. It's effortlessly chic and cozy, as if you're staying on a beautiful yacht.

And with the fantastic dinner at Caruso's and the sexy Manor Bar, Rosewood Miramar Beach is perfect for a special-occasion romantic getaway. I can't wait to go back.

To make Garten's chicken chili for six, you'll need:

• 4 split chicken breasts, bone-in, skin on
• 2 (28-ounce) cans of whole-peeled plum tomatoes in puree, undrained
• 4 cups of chopped yellow onions (3 onions)
• 2 red bell peppers, cored, seeded, and large-diced
• 2 yellow bell peppers, cored, seeded, and large diced
• ¼ cup of minced fresh basil leaves
• ⅛ cup of good olive oil, plus extra for chicken
• ⅛ cup of minced garlic (4 cloves)
• 2 teaspoons of kosher salt, plus more for chicken
• 1 teaspoon of chili powder
• 1 teaspoon of ground cumin
• ¼ teaspoon of dried red pepper flakes, or to taste
• ¼ teaspoon of cayenne pepper, or to taste
• Freshly ground black pepper
• Chopped green onions, for serving
• Corn chips, for serving
• Grated cheddar cheese, for serving

While these are Garten's recommended measurements, I should note that I doubled some of the seasoning and added 2 teaspoons of chili powder, 2 teaspoons of ground cumin, ½ teaspoon of dried red pepper flakes, and ½ teaspoon of cayenne pepper.

I wanted the chicken chili to pack a punch, and doubling these spices turned up the flavor without making things too spicy.

I chopped my onions, diced my bell peppers, and minced my garlic.

I misread Garten's recipe and diced my bell peppers a bit smaller than she recommended, but their shape still held up well in the chili.

I think larger pieces might actually be too chunky for this dish because there's so much chicken in the chili, so I recommend going with a smaller dice for the bell peppers instead.

I added the olive oil to my pan and threw in the onions.

I cooked the garlic for an additional minute, per Garten's instructions.

"You want to cook the garlic for just a minute so it doesn't get really bitter," she explained in a "Barefoot Contessa" episode while demonstrating the recipe.

I threw in the chili powder, cumin, red pepper flakes, cayenne, and salt and cooked everything for one minute.

"I always make this with canned tomatoes; life's too short to peel a tomato," Garten said in the episode.

According to the recipe, you can crush the tomatoes by hand or throw them in a food processor. If you opt for the latter, Garten recommends adding them in batches and pulsing the processor six to eight times.

I don't have a food processor, so I crushed the tomatoes by hand. I also threw the leftover juice into the pot.

I left my pot uncovered as my chili began to simmer.

During the "Barefoot Contessa" episode, Garten said she cooks the chicken with the skin on because she found it "really keeps it moist." She noted that she also roasts the chicken instead of boiling it because it makes the meat taste more delicious.

I rubbed my chicken breasts with olive oil and generously sprinkled salt and pepper on each one. I then threw them in the oven and set the timer to 35 minutes, per Garten's instructions.

I love making chili and believe it always tastes better the longer it is left on the stove, so I was happy to wait a little longer.

But Garten's recipe is designed for the chicken and chili to be ready at the same time, so you can always finish this quicker, depending on how soon you need dinner.

Garten said the chicken breasts should be "just cooked" when you take them out of the oven.

"Tear off the bone with your hands; it's the best way to do it," Garten said in the "Barefoot Contessa" episode.

Garten then recommended cutting the chicken into ¾-inch chunks so the meat can be "really delicious and chunky."

Garten's recipe calls for the chili to simmer with the chicken for 20 minutes. I wanted to maximize the flavor, so I let it simmer for 45 minutes.

I also made sure to stir the chili occasionally so the flavor could seep into all that chicken.

Since I bought pre-grated cheese, all I needed to do was chop my green onions.

Garten's chicken chili is so hearty and comforting. The rich tomatoes paired really well with the tender and juicy chicken, which soaked up so much delicious flavor, and the bell peppers added great texture.

The green onions on top also helped brighten each sip and added some nice crunch. And I recommend pairing this with sour cream for that extra hit of acidity and creaminess.

I made this chili for my friend Kayla, who immediately declared that it was the "best shit ever."

"This chili is reminiscent of a chicken tortilla soup, but it's so much heartier!" she added. "It makes you feel so warm and cozy."

As temperatures continue to drop, Garten's recipe will definitely satisfy your chili cravings.

We've dubbed it the "Konstantinides Torte" for as long as I can remember, but you can call it whatever you want. (Don't worry, my dad gives you permission.)

This foolproof recipe barely takes 15 minutes to make, and you can easily modify the ingredients to satisfy any taste.

To whip up the original version of my dad's cake, you'll need:

• Half of a box of Nilla Wafers
• 2 cups of heavy whipping cream
• 1 cup of milk
• ⅓ cup of brandy
• 1 4-ounce semi-sweet chocolate bar
• 2 tablespoons of powdered sugar
• Semi-sweet chocolate chips

If you'd rather make a strawberry version of this cake, skip the chocolate bar and replace the chocolate chips with strawberries.

"You could also do the chocolate whipped cream with strawberries if you want," my dad added. "And if you still want to put chocolate chips, nobody's stopping you from putting chocolate chips!"

My dad, as you may have gathered, is very into chocolate.

My dad does this with an improvised bain-marie, a fancy French term for putting a pan inside another pan to avoid burning the chocolate.

First, fill a pot with just enough water so the second pot touches it when you place it on top. Then, break the semi-sweet chocolate bar into smaller pieces and throw them in the second pot.

If that sounds like too much work, my dad said you can also just melt the chocolate in the microwave.

Don't forget to stir!

First, we added the two cups of heavy whipping cream to our stand mixer.

Then, we added two tablespoons of sugar to the cream and turned the mixer to high speed.

The consistency of the whipping cream should be like the picture above. Mixing it will take about two minutes in total.

My dad said this is also a great time to check if your filling is sweet enough.

"If you want more sugar, this is your time to add it," he told me.

The entire prep takes less than five minutes.

First, we added the milk and brandy to a bowl and gave it a little swirl.

If you want to go alcohol-free, that's fine! This recipe is completely customizable.

My dad said this step not only infuses the cookies with more flavor but also softens them — giving the cake a consistency and texture similar to tiramisu.

And you don't need to place each cookie in the milk-and-brandy bath one by one. I did this at first and my dad just laughed at me.

"This would take all night if we did it that way!" he exclaimed.

But don't put too many cookies in the bath, either. You don't want them to get too soggy before you place them on the pan.

We always use a 21-by-21-centimeter pan for the cake, but my dad said you could easily use a bigger pan, too.

"It just means you'll use more cookies and have a thinner layer of whipped cream with this recipe," he added. "Or you can just make more whipped cream."

We used a spatula to spread and smooth the filling over the Nilla Wafers.

If you're opting for fruit instead, this would be when you add the strawberries (or whatever fruit your heart desires). Just make sure you cut them into thin slices!

We broke some of the cookies to help fill in the spaces.

We then covered the pan with plastic wrap and stuck it in the fridge, where it sat overnight.

And that's it, you're done! But don't forget the very important final step — licking the bowl.

"It's the reward for the chef — and whoever helps — to lick the bowl," my dad told me sagely.

My dad said that one of his favorite parts about this cake is that there's no baking required, which removes a lot of the stress of making dessert for the family. (Don't ask him about the Great Souffle Disaster of 2001.)

"You don't have to worry, 'Oh, is it ready? Did I overcook it? Is it going to raise?' like with other cakes," he told me.

Plus, the recipe is so simple. My dad didn't even have it written down until I asked him to for this article.

"It's very easy to remember," he said. "You don't even have to remember the proportions; you can just mix and match and put whatever you want there."

"It's always trial and error, and it's very hard to fail. If you put too much brandy, it's OK! And if you put too little, you know next time to put a little more."

What I love about my dad's cake is its fluffiness. It's lighter than a tiramisu or Ina Garten's mocha chocolate icebox cake, but the chocolate chips add a delicious crunch.

The chocolate in the mousse is sweet but subtle, and the Nilla Wafers add some great texture. Plus, who doesn't love a little kick from that brandy?

This cake is obviously perfect for the hotter months, but it works great for any season. My dad makes this for my sister's birthday in November and for my mom (with strawberries swapped for chocolate) a month later.

After all, chocolate and cookies taste good no matter the season.

When I asked my dad what inspired the Konstantinides Torte, he told me his older sister taught him how to make it. She used ladyfingers for the base, but when my dad moved to the US from Greece, he couldn't easily find them in the supermarket, so he went with Nilla Wafers instead.

It's such a simple dessert to pass down within the family. And, since the cake is so versatile, it's really easy to modify. As my dad told me, "One recipe can really be used for anything you want!"

But, mostly, this cake is super special to me because of its history, and I know I'll be making it for my own friends and family for decades to come.

I hope it brings you as much joy as it has for us.

To make Garten's "outrageous" garlic bread, you'll need:

• 1 (20 to 24-inch-long) crusty French baguette
• 1 head of garlic, cloves separated and peeled
• 1 cup of freshly grated Italian Parmesan cheese
• 2 tablespoons of fresh parsley, minced
• 2 tablespoons of grated lemon zest
• ¼ teaspoon of crushed red pepper flakes
• 12 tablespoons (1 ½ sticks) of unsalted butter

The first step is melting the butter in a small saucepan over low heat.

Before adding garlic to the pan, you'll need to separate and peel the cloves from one head.

It sounds like a lot of prep, but, as always, Garten has some handy tips.

"Peel the garlic by smashing each clove lightly on a board with a chef's knife," she writes in her cookbook. "Or place the cloves in a small pot of boiling water for 15 to 30 seconds, and the peels will come right off."

I went with the first technique and then added my cloves to the saucepan, coating them with the melted butter. Then, I covered the pan for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally per Garten's instructions.

The cloves were tender and ready to go. I transferred them to a small bowl, which Garten recommends setting aside until it's cool enough to handle.

Garten's recipe calls for slicing the baguette in half lengthwise. She then recommends placing both halves, cut sides up, on a cutting board.

Then, it gets a little tricky. The recipe calls for you to score the halves diagonally (meaning you don't cut them all the way through) in large serving-size pieces.

My friend Zach, who was acting as my sous chef for the night, had a great tip. He placed chopsticks on each side of the baguette halves while scoring so the knife wouldn't completely slice through the bread.

It was here that Zach and I read the recipe a bit wrong. Instead of fully mashing the garlic into the butter, we put the tender cloves straight on the bread. Thankfully, our error ended up being a huge hit (more on that in a bit).

After spooning the cloves onto the bread, it was time to create the delicious mixture that would cover our baguette. We added two teaspoons of grated lemon zest, ¼ teaspoon of crushed red pepper flakes, and some salt and freshly ground black pepper into the saucepan with the butter.

We stirred everything together and generously brushed the mixture over the bread. It already smelled incredible.

We topped the baguette halves with one cup of freshly grated Parmesan cheese, some minced fresh parsley, and more red pepper flakes — which gave the bread a great burst of color (and a nice kick).

Then, per Garten's instructions, we cut the bread halves along a score to fit four pieces on a sheet pan and threw them into the oven, which was set at 450 degrees Fahrenheit.

Pro tip: Garten says you can also prepare your garlic mixture up to three days in advance and refrigerate it. Just combine everything in a bowl, including the Parmesan cheese and parsley, and warm it slightly in a microwave to make the mixture spreadable when you're ready to bake your bread.

Garten recommends baking your bread for five to seven minutes, until the "topping is bubbly and starting to brown and the bread is crisp."

Once it was out of the oven, I transferred the bread to a board and cut along the scores to make serving pieces, topping everything off with sea salt.

The garlic bread was a huge hit at the dinner table. Each piece was perfectly crunchy, and the lemon zest and parsley added a nice brightness to all that garlic. Zach and I agreed it was worth the extra cooking time and effort.

"I could have eaten an entire baguette's worth of the garlic bread," my friend Tyler added. "I liked the whole garlic cloves and the lemon zest was delicious."

My friend Sara also loved the full slices of garlic rather than seeing it chopped or minced and said it was her favorite part of the dish.

Whether you're craving Garten's comforting weeknight Bolognese or her beautiful penne alla vodka, this recipe is an easy and delicious side dish that will please everyone.

Garten's "outrageous" garlic bread lives up to its name in the best way. I know I'll be making it for dinner parties for years to come.

In an interview with Epicurious, the "Barefoot Contessa" star explained why the mocha chocolate icebox cake was one of her go-to recipes.

Garten said she was first inspired by a "fabulous caterer" friend who told her that his easiest recipe was a cake of whipped cream and Nabisco chocolate wafers layered together.

"I thought it was such a good concept that I was going to do it with something more interesting," she said. "So, I took Tate's chocolate-chip cookies, and I added Kahlua and cocoa powder. I made it into mocha whipped cream and then layered those and put it in the refrigerator, and, oh my God, it makes grown men weep."

"The whole thing takes five minutes to make," she added later. "And you make it the day before, so it's easy when you're entertaining."

To whip up the cake at home, you'll need:

• 3 (8-ounce) packages of Tate's Bake Shop chocolate-chip cookies
• 12 ounces of Italian mascarpone cheese
• 2 cups of cold heavy cream
• ¼ cup of Kahlua liqueur
• ½ cup of sugar
• 2 tablespoons of unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 teaspoon of instant espresso powder
• 1 teaspoon of pure vanilla extract
• Semisweet chocolate (for the garnish)

If you can't find Tate's Bake Shop at your local supermarket, Garten recommends using another thin, crisp chocolate-chip cookie for the recipe instead.

Per Garten's recipe, I added heavy cream, mascarpone cheese, sugar, Kahlua, cocoa powder, espresso powder, and pure vanilla extract.

I used the whisk attachment on my stand mixer, starting it on low speed to combine all the ingredients.

And just like that, my filling was ready!

To start, I covered the bottom of an 8-inch springform pan with a layer of chocolate-chip cookies.

Garten says it's important to cover the bottom of the pan as much as possible, noting that she'll break some cookies to help fill in the spaces.

Per Garten's recipe, I evenly spread a fifth of the mocha whipped cream over the cookies.

I made sure the cookies were flat and touching, as Garten had instructed, and broke off more pieces to fill in the layer as much as possible.

I continued switching between the cookies and mocha whipped cream until there were five layers of each, ending with a layer of cream on top.

The entire process was super easy. Barely 10 minutes had passed, and I was almost done.

Then, I threw the cake in the fridge and let it sit overnight.

I ran a knife around the outside of the cake before removing the sides of the pan.

Then, I took my bar of semisweet chocolate and used a vegetable peeler to create a pile of chocolate shavings, which I sprinkled around the edges of my cake.

The key to getting those nice curls? Just go slow and steady with your peeler.

Garten's mocha chocolate icebox cake had been an absolute breeze to make, and it didn't even come out of a box!

The cake also looked great. The mocha whipped cream was a pleasant light-brown shade, and the chocolate shavings gave it a special decorative touch — plus a nice pop of color.

Garten's mocha chocolate icebox cake has 10 layers, and you can clearly see each one in a nice big slice.

Chocolate chips from the Tate's cookies are also sprinkled throughout, dripping invitingly across the layers.

When I first saw the recipe for Garten's cake, I thought it would taste similar to tiramisu. But the dish was surprisingly sturdy, thanks to the cookies, and had a far richer and buttery taste than I expected. I thought the cookies carried the mocha whipped cream well, and I loved the chocolate chips I got in almost every bite.

What I loved most about Garten's cake was that it tasted better the longer it sat in the fridge. It took a couple of days for my family to finish the dessert, and we loved it more each day. The consistency became akin to those frozen Pepperidge Farm cakes you can buy from the grocery store but with far more exciting flavor.

Overall, I think Garten's recipe is a fantastic dessert. Since it doesn't need baking and is eaten cold, the cake is perfect for hotter days when you can't be bothered to use your oven. But it's also decadent and buttery enough for the winter months. I definitely wouldn't say no to a slice if I saw this at a holiday party.

Whether you're making this with your kids or have kid-level baking skills, this is one of the easiest desserts you can make from scratch. I guarantee it'll impress everyone.

And who knows? Maybe it really will make some grown men cry.

To make the potatoes at home, you'll need:

• 3 or 4 large potatoes, each about 6 to 7 inches long
• 1 lemon
• 4 tablespoons butter (½ stick)
• 1 tablespoon dried oregano
• ½ tablespoon salt
• Freshly ground black pepper

To begin, peel the potatoes and wash them.

My dad has a quick technique for chopping the potatoes.

First, cut the potato in half lengthwise and slice off the two round ends on each half. Then, slice down the middle of each half again.

Cut across the potato to get equal pieces, each around ¾ of an inch.

My dad used this 4-quart baking dish to make a large batch of potatoes for a recent dinner party.

We had plenty of potatoes for seven people, plus leftovers for the next day.

The water helps prevent the potatoes from sticking to the pan. My dad recommends pouring just enough water to form a small layer at the bottom.

If you want an extra burst of flavor, my dad recommends swapping water for chicken broth instead.

You'll want to squeeze at least one lemon for your pan of potatoes, although you can always add more if you really love the flavor.

Sprinkle your salt, pepper, and oregano evenly on the potatoes, then add your butter right on top.

My dad typically bakes his potatoes on the convection-roast setting of our oven for about an hour and a half at 360 degrees Fahrenheit. This timing and temperature will also work if you want to cook a roast chicken with your potatoes in the same pan.

We also tested this recipe on the regular bake setting, in case your oven doesn't have convection roast, and found that it took about two hours and 15 minutes to finish the potatoes.

If you bake your potatoes on the convection-roast setting, my dad recommends flipping them once, around the one-hour mark. This will help stop the tops from burning.

If you cook them on the regular setting, there's no need for any flipping. Just let those potatoes bake and wait for your kitchen to smell delicious.

If they're looking a little dry, my dad recommends adding more water to the pan.

If you're making these potatoes for a big dinner, you can easily cook them ahead of time. My dad recommends throwing them in the oven at 340 degrees Fahrenheit for a few minutes to warm them before serving.

I've made many variations of potatoes, including Emily Blunt's English roasted potatoes. But nothing beats the potatoes I grew up with.

My dad's Greek roasted potatoes look beautiful on the plate and have such a great flavor. The seasoning adds some depth, while the lemon brightens everything up without overwhelming your palate.

Plus, they're cooked perfectly — crispy on the outside but soft and fluffy on the inside. And you can't beat how easy and foolproof this recipe is.

I served my dad's potatoes at a dinner party, and everyone quickly went for seconds. My best friend Nausheen even declared they were the best potatoes she'd ever had.

My dad has been making these roasted potatoes for as long as I can remember, and he grew up with them as well.

"We always had these roasted potatoes with chicken," he told me. "It's a traditional Sunday meal in Greece."

Whether they're for the holidays or just a nice meal around the dinner table, roasted potatoes can remind so many people of home. So, I hope this recipe is the perfect excuse to get together with family or friends.

And if you're looking for a perfect Greek dessert, my dad's baklava shouldn't be missed.

In a few short years, the resort and restaurant have made a big splash in the world of luxury hospitality. Rosewood Miramar Beach is currently one of only 15 properties worldwide to hold a triple Five-Star title from the Forbes Travel Guide, meaning its hotel, spa, and restaurant have all received five stars.

In 2022, Caruso's received both a Michelin star and a Green Star — which honors sustainable restaurants — from the Michelin Guide. It's held on to both ever since.

"Opening a restaurant and getting a Michelin star in a couple of years is a big deal," Falsini told me before our dinner. "Our journey has been like flying high, very fast."

Falsini first fell in love with cooking when he was 16 and washing dishes at a restaurant in Rome for extra pocket money.

His culinary career would take the chef across multiple continents as he cooked at luxury hotels like the Four Seasons Resort Hualalai, Hilton Abu Dhabi, and Solage in Napa Valley.

"I think the beauty of food is that every day is a new day, and every day is different," Falsini told me. "That's why I feel like I never work a day in my life."

There's no doubt that Falsini is working hard as the director of culinary operations at Rosewood Miramar. But his quest for perfection is to impress the guests, not the Michelin inspectors.

"People, when they come here, I want them to have fun," Falsini said. "To feel the warmth, to feel the love of a beautiful Italian restaurant."

Even the rare California rain couldn't damper the beautiful ocean setting, which Caruso's leans into with its open-air design. The beautiful navy leather booths match the blue lacquered accent wall, and the pristine white chairs are decorated with gold brass rings. It felt like I could've been on a yacht in the South of France.

The impeccable service was in motion from the moment I took my seat. A purse stool appeared by my side, a napkin was placed on my lap, and the water was poured instantly. Falsini believes the well-rehearsed choreography is essential to fine dining.

"All those steps and the precision, like the little notes of a symphony, are very important," he said. "Those waiters, they walk around like ballerinas. And the hospitality, that European warm touch, is a big part of what we do here in Caruso's."

I then perused the menu, which offers multiple price points. There's the $175 four-course experience and two chef's tasting menus priced at $285 per person.

"The Land" focuses on meat, while "The Ocean" highlights seafood. The restaurant also offers plant-based versions of its menu upon request, and a $145 three-course experience is available Monday through Thursday.

Business Insider received a media rate for the four-course dinner.

From the moment the first amuse-bouche arrived, it was clear I was in the midst of a five-star resort.

Servers brought mini cones stuffed with king crab and caviar, which sparkled with gold leaf. Then came a delicious gougère filled with truffle cream.

My favorite was the palate-cleanser soup, which tasted of blue cheese — a variety, I later learned, that's exclusive to the restaurant — and was topped with dark chocolate shavings.

There's also a bread service, which I loved so much I forgot to take a picture first. A server decanted the house-made olive oil right at the table and offered two types of butter. One was infused with black truffle, the other with seaweed — I finished them both. The warm sourdough, made from a 30-year-old starter, was sublime.

"Am I allowed to bring more bread to the table?" the waiter asked, seeing my clean plate.

"Absolutely," I replied.

The Baja Kanpachi was served with pixie tangerines, apple cucumber salad, and lemon verbena chilled tea. Each ingredient was so gracefully layered together in its liquid pool of gold that I imagined the chefs in the kitchen carefully placing every piece on the plate with a tiny tweezer.

The juicy tangerine shimmered against the butter-soft fish, which instantly melted on my tongue. The slivers of jalapeño provided a subtle but delightful kick of heat.

The intricate and refreshing dish immediately delighted my senses.

I unabashedly gasped when the honeynut squash vellutata soup, topped with an intricate tuile of vines, arrived at my table.

The delicately placed orange petals appeared to bloom straight from the branches, adding even more dimension. The black bowl only added to the dramatic effect, serving as the perfect backdrop for the bright-orange squash.

The soup was obviously a huge hit with the group chat, but it was so much more than a pretty picture. Each velvety sip seemed to magically capture every flavor of autumn thanks to the sweet and earthy honeynut and the crunch of the hazelnut, which paired beautifully with the bright burst from the orange crème fraiche.

When I sat down with Falsini before dinner, he told me that all of the seafood at Caruso's is "from the ocean in front of you."

"We don't fly in anything; we only buy from local small fishermen in order to support the community," the chef said, adding that he hopes to make Caruso's a zero-carbon footprint restaurant by 2026.

Falsini even tags the fishermen he buys from when he posts the restaurant's dishes on its official Instagram page, as he did with the beautiful Santa Barbara spiny lobster girasoli.

The dish was presented on a plate illustrated with blue fish, which looked as if they were swimming amid the delicious bisque. And the spiny lobster, served with delicate shavings of Granny Smith apple, was butter-poached to perfection and tasted divinely tender.

Falsini's first rule for cooking fish is to "love the fish," and his care and passion were on full display with this halibut.

This Channel Island halibut was easily the most delicate version I've ever had. A server arrived tableside to pour the beautiful burro fuso sauce, which had a hint of sweetness from Vin Santo and a zing from makrut lime.

The soft and tender meat of the fish, which cut like butter, instantly soaked everything up. Its flavors lingered on my tongue long after the fish was gone, which is exactly what Falsini aims to achieve with every one of his dishes.

"I believe the journey of the chef is a discovery journey," he told me. "We put things together that were already made. We just have to discover them and put them together in a different way."

"It's fascinating because you become like a mad scientist," he continued. "So how do we surprise? We can add the different layers of flavor, of sensation, of feelings when people eat the food. So when the people take a bite, they go, 'Oh, what's that?' That's what we want."

Falsini specifically made the budino dessert with Rick Caruso's favorite drink, Johnnie Walker Blue Label whiskey. It features chocolate-toffee pudding laced with a full shot of the whiskey and topped with whole-bean vanilla gelato.

Falsini told me the dish was so popular that 80% of the restaurant's guests would choose it from the prix-fixe menu before he took it off to focus on desserts with seasonal and sustainable ingredients.

However, the sweet treat is still available to those who ask, and I got to try it since my almond allergy ruled out the other choices.

Decadent, sweet, and indulgent, the budino is truly a dessert fit for a billionaire — no wonder it was such a hit!

I've eaten at several one-star Michelin restaurants over the past few months, but the skill and imagination on display at Caruso's are on a different level.

Getting to the next star isn't just about great food. It's about the entire experience. And Falsini's dedication to his guests would be evident even if I hadn't gotten the chance to speak with him. Just take a look at the Yelp and Tripadvisor pages for Caruso's. Under every review, whether it be praise or critique, is Falsini himself, wondering what he can improve and fix.

"I look at everything through food. I go to sleep, and I dream about food. I get up and think about food," Falsini told me. "I am always thinking: What can we do with the menu? How can we make it more interesting, more different, more enticing? How can we raise the bar? How can we grow?"

I, for one, can't wait to see what's next for Falsini and Caruso's.

To make the Best Damn Chili at home, you'll need:

• 2.5 pounds lean ground beef
• 1 yellow onion, chopped
• 1 red bell pepper, chopped
• 1 orange bell pepper, chopped (optional)
• 1 yellow bell pepper, chopped (optional)
• 1 summer squash (optional)
• 1-2 cups cremini mushrooms (optional)
• ½ purple cabbage (optional)
• 4 garlic cloves, minced
• 2 beef bouillon cubes
• 1 28-ounce can crushed San Marzano tomatoes
• 2 16-ounce cans dark red kidney beans
• 1 14.5-ounce can fire-roasted diced tomatoes
• 1 12-ounce can tomato paste
• 1 12-ounce can or bottle of light beer
• 1 cup sour cream, plus extra for serving
• ½ cup white wine
• ¼ cup Worcestershire sauce
• Green onions or cilantro, for serving
• Mexican-blend cheese, for serving (optional)

Here are all the seasonings you'll need:

• 2 tablespoons chili powder
• 2 tablespoons ground cumin
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• 2 ½ teaspoons dried basil
• 1 ½ teaspoons smoked paprika
• 1 teaspoon salt
• ½ teaspoon dried oregano
• ½ teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1 pinch garlic powder

If you want to make your chili spicy, you can also add:

• 2 red jalapeño peppers, chopped
• 1 Anaheim chile pepper, chopped
• 1 tablespoon chipotle pepper sauce

My boyfriend Peter and I always love to pack our chili with tons of veggies, so we added a few extra to the original recipe (which I noted with "optional" in the ingredient list). You can also switch things up and just use whatever you have in the fridge.

If you don't want to do a lot of prep, you can always stick to just the onion, garlic, and red bell pepper. I think all the extra vegetables are worth the work — they make this chili super hearty, flavorful, and comforting. Plus, the chopping goes by way quicker if you've got the help of a loved one, a good friend, or a great playlist.

First, add four tablespoons of olive oil to your pot, which should be placed over medium heat.

Then, throw in the onion, bell peppers, garlic, and whatever extra vegetables you decide to use. If you're going the spicy route, this is also when you should add the Anaheim and jalapeño peppers.

Add olive oil to a large skillet placed over medium-high heat. Throw in the beef and let it cook, stirring occasionally, until the meat has browned. This step should take around five to seven minutes.

During this step, you'll also want to crumble the two beef bouillon cubes over the meat.

Keep cooking the beef, scraping the bottom of the skillet with your wooden spoon or rubber spatula until the beer becomes hot. This will take around three minutes.

At this point, your kitchen will already smell amazing.

Give everything a good stir after you add the crushed San Marzano tomatoes, the fire-roasted diced tomatoes, and the tomato paste.

After adding the white wine, season everything with the chili powder, cumin, brown sugar, basil, paprika, oregano, salt, and black pepper. If you're using the pepper sauce, throw that in as well.

The original recipe recommends adding the kidney beans after you've allowed your chili to simmer, but I've misread the instructions before and thrown them in early. Either way, it still tastes fantastic.

After your chili has come to a boil, reduce the heat to medium-low. Cover the pot and let it simmer.

I love simmering chili on the stove all day, allowing it to develop and thicken. The vegetables still maintain their delicious texture, staying tender rather than mushy, and the overall flavor is incredible — and so worth the wait.

If you opt to add your kidney beans after the initial simmer, the original recipe recommends letting the chili simmer for an additional 30 minutes (which allows the beans to get hot) before serving.

The Best Damn Chili is just so rich, hearty, and comforting. The deep, delicious flavor that comes from allowing it to simmer all day is memorable, and all the different veggies work together so beautifully. The dollop of sour cream on top infuses the chili with a nice brightness and tang, and I love the color and crunch the green onions add. We've made this recipe every season of the year, and the Best Damn Chili always hits no matter the temperature.

Plus, even if you go back for seconds, this recipe provides enough leftovers for an entire week of dinners. My boyfriend and I often pack up some leftover chili for our friends, who are also huge fans.

Just beware if you make this for a Super Bowl Sunday party — there won't be a spoonful left by the final touchdown.

O'Connell opened his restaurant in 1978. The self-taught chef, who learned with the help of Julia Child's "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," aspired to bring fine dining to the American countryside.

"In 1979, I began taking pilgrimages to the three-star Michelin restaurants of France to establish a benchmark for this place," O'Connell told me as we sat by a roaring fireplace in the restaurant's kitchen. "I wanted to see places that were outside major urban centers, the little villages."

"I realized that while America didn't have any tradition of expecting a fine meal outside a city, if it's something that was part of French culture, maybe one day Americans would embrace the same idea," he continued. "And now they have."

That changed in 2016 when the Inn at Little Washington was awarded two stars in the first-ever Michelin Guide for DC. Two years later, the restaurant got its third star and has held on to it ever since.

The acclaim has filled O'Connell's dining room with a new international clientele, who he said collect three-star Michelin restaurants like "Gucci, Dior, or Chanel." But the chef is glad the Inn had time to come into itself.

"It didn't just hit like a lightning bolt," he added. "So we've been able to maintain our sense of humor and humility and not take ourselves too seriously."

Guests who reserve the two special tables available in O'Connell's kitchen are given a blessing. The chef told me it's a tribute to the "sacred space" and a tongue-in-cheek reference to the Mondavi nickname.

Before they set foot in the space, an altar boy will appear, holding a golden censer with incense, which he rocks back and forth in time with a soundtrack of chanting French monks.

"The chefs don't even hear it anymore. They just feel it," O'Connell said. "But we like to say it reduces cursing."

My dinner would take place in the dining room, but I briefly sat in the breakfast nook to try some canapés and watch O'Connell's kitchen at work on the night's dinner service.

Diners at the Inn can select "The Gastronaut" menu, which features seafood and meat, or "The Good Earth" menu if they want to go vegetarian. Both menus change with the season, feature six courses (plus a few amuse-bouches to start), and are priced at $388 per person. Business Insider received a media rate for the dinner.

As I munched on the delicious popcorn, O'Connell explained that he sees dining in a restaurant as a film — and the guest as its star.

"The whole idea of what we do is seduction," the chef said. "I can't serve anybody something I don't love or wouldn't want to eat. If it doesn't deliver on the palate, if it doesn't make you swoon, what's the point? It has to be personal."

A server then came by with a round of playful but elevated canapés. There was a crisp chip filled with pimento cheese and rolled like a cannoli, plus a pair of fried green tomatoes topped with generous scoops of caviar.

I've gone behind the scenes of some legendary restaurants, but I've never seen a kitchen as beautifully designed as the Inn at Little Washington.

Instead of cramped spaces and industrial silver as far as the eye can see, there are high ceilings, huge windows, and shimmering copper. The decorative blue and white tiles on the walls derive from an ancient tradition — O'Connell told me "it was thought that blue deterred flies" — seen in the dairy room at Windsor Castle, which was the kitchen's design inspiration.

Meanwhile, the dinner service was in full swing. I watched as O'Connell's staff calmly plated delicate pieces of sashimi and piped "Happy Birthday" on white chocolate.

As O'Connell pointed to different stations, proudly introducing every cook, he told me they were planning the night's menu for a table of German tourists who were staying at the Inn for 10 nights and "never have the same thing twice."

"Anticipation," "Trepidation," "Inspection," "Fulfillment," and "Evaluation" are displayed across the kitchen to remind the staff "what phase or stage the guest is at in any moment," O'Connell said.

Anticipation, the first stage, is one that O'Connell believes even "the most jaded diner in the world" feels before they step into the dining room. Then, there's trepidation, when the guest is "naturally worried that it might not live up to their grandiose expectations."

Inspection likely begins after "the second sip of their first drink," when the guest starts looking around the restaurant.

"You can't have any flaws stand out at that point because then it ruins the illusion," O'Connell told me.

Fulfillment tends to follow after the meat course, while evaluation begins after the final bite of dessert.

"The key that we've succeeded is on their departure if they're talking about who they wish to bring on their next visit," the chef explained. "It's always very rewarding to me when they say, 'We need to bring our parents here,' because that's very personal."

I was led into the sanctuary through the warmly lit lounge and dining room, ornately decorated with scarlet drapes, pastel-pink chairs, and velvet blue booths.

The lights were dim, casting shadows of the palm tree fronds that filled the space. A menu with my name on it was waiting for me, and the anticipation I'd been feeling for weeks was fully setting in. The first stage of dining had officially commenced.

The canapé, a delicious potato crisp filled with Parmesan and rolled in truffle, filled me with cheesy warmth. It was immediately followed by an oyster encased with an apple gelée and topped with Meyer lemon foam, a delightfully light and refreshing bite.

The quick contrast of flavors and textures was as unexpected as Dolly Parton crooning through the hidden speakers. When I later told O'Connell I never expected to hear Dolly in a three-star Michelin restaurant, the chef told me he wanted to give a "sense of place."

"It has to be somebody's house and somebody's taste, so it has to be eclectic, and it can't be predictable," he said. "Each song is chosen to take you on a little journey."

At the base of the egg was a roasted garlic custard, followed by sautéed cauliflower and chanterelle mushrooms topped with Parmesan foam and breadcrumbs.

The filling was rich and silky, yet still light on my tongue, thanks to the frothy texture.

Displayed alongside a mountain of butter were four different types of bread, including fresh baguettes and a sourdough made from a 143-year-old starter.

I already knew O'Connell's bread was baked to perfection after sampling it during the hotel's breakfast that morning, so I decided to save space. After all, I still had six courses ahead of me.

The dish featured Petrossian's Tsar Imperial Ossetra Caviar, mixed with Chesapeake crab and cucumber rillette and served in its tin.

I spooned some of the mixture onto the lightly buttered brioche toast, which added a satisfying crunch and contrast of texture as the caviar and crab melted into my mouth.

The buttery caviar had just a hint of brine, allowing the light and bright crab to shine, while the cucumber added a refreshing bite to the overall flavor.

Sometimes, to truly illustrate how much I loved a dish, I think it's better to begin with the notes I wrote upon my first taste. For the carpaccio, it was: "Holy shit, this is incredible."

A server presented the plate, a visually stunning quilt of bright and pale pinks, before grating some fresh wasabi straight from the root.

So many different flavors were tap dancing on my tongue, including the bright yuzu brushed on top of the fish and the creamy avocado that cut through the acidity. It was one of the most refreshing things I've ever tasted and paired perfectly with the glass of Infinite Summer sake that my waiter recommended.

O'Connell's incredible carpaccio was tough to follow, but his light-as-air cabbage made a valiant effort.

The classic French technique he taught himself by repeatedly making Julia Child's recipes was on full display with the silky beurre blanc, which had just a touch of bright lemon and paired beautifully with the lusciously soft crab.

My server recommended I use a spoon to get all the sauce, and you better believe I finished every last drop.

"Americans have this thing about the meat course," O'Connell told me knowingly before dinner. "You have to be careful to give them enough meat. And only after the main course has been served will they allow themselves to sort of fall into an animal satisfaction of fulfillment."

I was definitely satisfied following the tenderloin, which was plentiful and far more tender than I ever thought possible of venison.

The Szechuan peppers crackled on my tongue, adding a fun twist to what could have been a standard fine-dining dish. O'Connell's flair and creativity were on display once again.

Served alongside the refreshingly tart mousse — which a waiter told me was inspired by a Martha Stewart recipe — was a card explaining that pawpaw was George Washington's favorite fruit.

It's a lovely little treat that pays homage to the town's namesake and illustrates O'Connell's impeccable attention to every detail. Just look at the two garnishes on top, shaped like a rose and a heart.

From the careful shading to the tiny drop of water sliding down its curve, this pear cheesecake was the perfect illusion dessert.

The deliciously indulgent cheesecake featured soft and sweet poached pears in its center, and I couldn't get enough of the boozy amaretto sabayon sauce.

It was a fun and whimsical end to a meal that was just as lively and playful as O'Connell had promised.

"My parents would love this place," I kept thinking as I nibbled on the bark and sipped chamomile tea.

A song with the words "sleep well" was wafting softly from the speakers, almost like a lullaby. It was a moment of pure contentment.

I only realized later, when I listened back to my interview with O'Connell, that I had entered the final stage of dining that he aspires to take every guest.

"You're not going to bring your parents to somewhere that's questionable or that's stupidly trendy," he said. "You want them to have that same similar wonderful experience that you had."

O'Connell's love for the food, the Inn, and this tiny town in Virginia shines through in every one of his dishes. Plenty of three-star Michelin restaurants coast on their reputation, knowing there will always be people with big wallets who want to collect their menus like stamps. But O'Connell is still in the kitchen every night, trying to make the experience special for every guest.

"This is why we acknowledge that we can't make it as good as it was last time," O'Connell said. "It has to be better."

I can't wait to go back. And next time, I'll bring my parents.

Garten shares the origin story for chicken pot pie soup in her 2020 cookbook, "Modern Comfort Food."

"This was a little crazy," she writes in the recipe's intro. "I was walking through an airport once and spotted chicken pot pie soup on a restaurant menu. What a good idea!"

"It was actually harder to make than it sounded — my first few attempts just tasted like chicken pot pie filling, not soup," she added. "This one, though, hit all the right comforting notes, with good chicken stock, roasted chicken, and puff pastry croutons."

To make Garten's soup for a serving of 6, you'll need:

• 3 chicken breasts, skin-on, bone-in (2.5 to 3 pounds total)
• 7 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade
• 5 medium-sized carrots, peeled and chopped or diced
• 3 leeks, white and light-green parts chopped
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 2 fennel, tops and cores removed, chopped
• 1 cup frozen whole pearl onions
• 1 10-ounce bag frozen peas
• ¾ cup cream sherry
• ¼ cup Wondra flour
• ¼ cup fresh parsley, minced
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 tablespoon fresh tarragon leaves, chopped
• 1 piece of Italian Parmesan cheese rind (Garten recommends 2-inch x 3-inch)

To make 12 croutons for the chicken pot pie soup, you'll need:

• 1 sheet of frozen puff pastry, such as Pepperidge Farm, defrosted
• 1 extra-large egg beaten with 1 tablespoon heavy cream for the egg wash
• All-purpose flour
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

I preheated the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, then placed my three chicken breasts on a sheet pan with the skin side up.

I rubbed the skin of each chicken with olive oil, then generously seasoned them with salt and pepper.

Garten says to roast the chicken for 35 minutes, until the thermometer registers 130 to 140 degrees, then set it aside until the meat is cool enough to handle.

I chopped the fennel, tarragon leaves, and carrots and minced my garlic.

Garten says you should cut off the leeks' dark green leaves at a 45-degree angle. Then, chop the white and light green parts from each leek and wash them well in a bowl of water.

She notes that wet leeks will steam rather than sauté in the soup and recommends drying them in a salad spinner. If you don't have one at home, you can just pat them dry in a paper towel — it did the trick for me.

I melted the butter over medium heat before throwing in the leeks, fennel, and carrots.

I sautéed the veggies over medium-high heat for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Garten notes that the leeks should be tender but not browned.

After sautéeing the carrots, leeks, and fennel, I added the garlic and tarragon and cooked everything together for an additional minute.

Garten says you should be stirring the pot constantly during this step.

While cooking, I didn't realize that I was using dry sherry instead of cream sherry, which Garten specifies in her recipe. Truthfully, I haven't cooked with sherry much and just grabbed the first bottle I saw at the supermarket.

But the soup still tasted fantastic, so I wouldn't stress too much if dry sherry is all you have on hand.

I seasoned the broth with 4 teaspoons of salt and 1½ teaspoons of pepper.

My boyfriend's roommates returned from a trip while we were cooking and immediately came into the kitchen to see what was on the stove.

While the soup was simmering, I removed the meat from the chicken bones and diced it into 1-inch pieces.

I first preheated the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and lined a sheet pan with parchment paper.

Then, I lightly dusted my cutting board with flour and unfolded a sheet of puff pastry on the board. Make sure you've properly thawed your puff pastry beforehand. You can defrost it overnight in your refrigerator or let it sit on the counter for 45 minutes before you whip up the croutons.

I dusted the puff pastry with flour and lightly rolled the sheet to smooth out any folds. You can use a rolling pin for this step, or just use your bottle of sherry!

Whatever rolling tool you pick, just make sure to dust it with some flour so it doesn't stick.

Garten recommends using star-shaped or fluted round cookie cutters, but next time, I might try dicing the puff pastry instead so I can have bite-sized croutons that are easier to eat with each spoonful.

I had plenty of dough left over after I cut my 12 croutons, so I made extra — there's no need to waste good puff pastry!

I seasoned each crouton with salt and pepper and then threw my pan into the oven for 10 minutes.

Every oven is different, so I recommend checking on them around the 8-minute mark. You'll know the croutons are ready when they're puffed and golden brown.

I let the soup simmer, uncovered, for an additional five minutes.

This is also when I added the minced parsley.

I'm truly thankful to whatever airport had chicken pot pie soup on its menu because Garten's recipe is the comfort meal of dreams.

Her homemade chicken stock is so silky, delicious, and rich that I've already come to terms with the fact I'll never be able to use store-bought stock again. All the veggies made each sip deliciously hearty and kept the soup in line with the spirit of pot pie, and I loved how much tender chicken I got with each spoonful. The fluffy and buttery croutons were such a fun and indulgent addition and were even more delicious after soaking up all that broth.

My boyfriend Peter loved this dish so much he declared it's the best soup we've made all winter — and we've made a lot.

I've discovered a real love for making homemade soups, and this Barefoot Contessa recipe is easily one of my favorites.

While it takes some time and prep, Garten's chicken pot pie soup is worth the extra effort. It's hearty, comforting, and truly soothes every inch of the soul. It's perfect for a nice winter dinner or as a gift to a friend or family member under the weather.

It's the kind of soup that core memories are made from.