Thursday, December 22, 2011

Vegetarian Christmas Recipes for the Holidays that are gluten free to boot
Here are a hand-picked few of my favorite gluten-free vegetarian recipes.

Winter Solstice has blessed us with a turning point. Daylight now grows longer inch by inch. Or is that minute by wintry minute? In spirit, I suspect, it is both. Christmas is almost here, and the season celebrating rebirth, light, and sliding into credit card debt is in full swing. Carolers are caroling. Gift wrappers are gift wrapping. Egg noggers are nogging. The shiny New Year crouches right around the corner.

And recipes are flooding my in-box for... ham. Roast beef. Rack of lamb. Wait a duck fat glistening minute, here.

Where are the vegetarian Christmas recipes?

I can't be the only person not forking a slab of meat on Christmas day. I can't be the single solitary soul who doesn't treasure bacon fat like it's a princess tiara. I'm not alone in my imaginings of a fresh and lively meatless Christmas dinner--- am I?

Okay. Okay. I get it. I honestly do. I realize I'm in the minority here. That to most folks celebrating the winter holidays in all their myriad and nuanced diversity, meat is the centerpiece of celebration. I acknowledge that. I even accept that. Just because I've been a vegetarian 78% of my life doesn't mean I bury my head in the sand of denial. I cope. I deal.

I go with the flow.

But just so you know? The UN thinks vegetarianism is not only a cool idea, it may be necessary to save the planet. So here's ten of my favorite vegetarian and vegan recipes for Christmas. With love.


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Saturday, December 17, 2011

gluten free chocolate gingerbread
Delicious chocolate gingerbread loaf. Gluten-free yum.

Holiday Gingerbread,Thanksgiving-Free Goddess Style


As the song says, Let it snow / let it snow / let it snow. Icing sugar that is. In a soft, sifted whisper of white. A dusting of tongue-melting sweetness to accent the solstice dark moon taste of a classic ginger spiced chocolate tea bread.

In the deep midwinter, I cheer my fragile spirit by baking. I put on Yo Yo Ma and stir cocoa laced batter with a wooden spoon, imagining my fellow gluten-free bakers- all of you- out there- standing in your humble kitchens, beating strange flours and non-traditional ingredients with an odd blend of dread and hope. Crossing fingers and scooping tea bread, cake and muffin batter, rolling cookie dough between nervous palms, praying to the kitchen gods.

In a mere two days- perilously close to the Winter Solstice- I will celebrate my tenth anniversary of living gluten-free. December 19, 2001 was the day I decided to shun gluten forever. What timing. Right before Christmas. I could have waited until December 26th. Or even the New Year. But I didn't. I couldn't. As soon as I connected the dots- from my plague of symptoms to their instigator gluten- I couldn't wait to begin my new life. If I had eaten my very last buttery croissant, so be it. If I had unknowingly crunched my last iced sugar cookie, so what. I was done.

Few of us have to make such choices.

Millions of Americans can eat pizza and bagels and Fruit Loops till the cows come home. Donuts and Ding Dongs and frozen pie crusts? No problem. Gluten isn't on their radar, never mind in their daily nomenclature. It's a punch line in a TV sit com. Something chefs and foodies either kvetch about or flirt with, eyeing the growing gluten-free awareness trend as a dietary bandwagon. Or maybe an opportunity to garner a little extra revenue. They're mildly interested, but non-committal. Privately? They're amused.


The fad aspect will fade. Eventually. And those of us with certain genes and blunted villi will still be here. Living gluten-free. Baking gluten-free. Day after day. Wrestling with creative ingredients and conjuring kitchen magic for our families, or ourselves, our newly diagnosed best friend.

Keeping the faith, one recipe at a time.

On my tenth gluten-free anniversary I salute YOU- dear reader. The home cook. The intrepid baker. The mother of a celiac child. The loving parent of an ASD angel. The undiagnosed but obviously sensitive to gluten cake maker. The wheat intolerant cupcake lover. The brother, the sister, the Dad, the grandmother looking for a way to include your celiac loved one in on the festivities, welcoming everyone to your table.

This anniversary recipe is for you. 

A rich dark gingerbread infused with cocoa. 

~GFG

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Saturday, December 10, 2011

Gluten free pumpkin crumb cake
A light, pumpkin coffee cake for your holiday brunch.

The Winter Solstice will be here soon. The holiday frenzy of gift buying and light stringing and cookie making is officially upon us. Everywhere I cast my gaze I am pummeled with messages. SHOP! BAKE! SPARKLE! And that's okay. Because I understand the hoopla. I know where this urge comes from. The itch to make a ruckus in the dark. To sing, brave and clear, cupping our tiny flames against Midwinter's long night.

The California sun hangs soft and low in the sky, as pale as ice cream. Hours feel clipped. Afternoons are shorter and shorter. Night creeps ever closer. Darkness will soon reign over light.

But only for a moment. One single, solitary, longest night of the year.

No wonder we gather to celebrate. The rebirth of light is no small thing. And a brand new year awaits. Front loaded with promise, and changes hoped for.

I had hoped to finally conquer gluten-free sugar cookies. But after tasting more than one middling batch (I also have to bake without butter, remember) I became more interested in reading a new book than wrestling with sugar cookie dough. Yes, I miss rolling out sugar cookies. And yes, I would be (more than!) thrilled to sign on here today and boast about the best gluten-free sugar cookie ever. But. It's not gonna happen. This week anyway.

I had two sad, cracked (and complaining) teeth yanked this week. (Celiac disease is not kind to teeth and bones. My childhood was riddled with amalgam and the torture inducing whine of belt-driven drills, cementing a lifelong terror of dentists.)

So that gave me the perfect excuse to nap. And read in bed.

I am reading Carolyn G. Heilbrun- The Last Gift of Time. I read a chapter on memory- and the seduction of nostalgia (a favorite subject of mine, you may remember). And I read this...

"Every time those of us in our last decades allow a memory to occur, we forget to look at what is in front of us, at the new ideas and pleasures we might, if firmly in the present, encounter and enjoy."

Carolyn (in her seventies when she wrote this book) urges us to stay present in the here and now as we age, and not drift into the mental trap of nostalgia and memories. I wholeheartedly agree. I love learning something new- every day- turning not to an assumption, a belief or a habit, but toward the thrill of a new skill, and new technologies (iphoneography is a new passion of mine- an art form in its infancy). Keeping myself open, engaged in the here and now means keeping things fresh. Letting go of the old, the stale past, the so-called good old days. Because as good as they were, they are not now. And as bad as some days may have been, today can be different.

Now is new.

And in this spirit, Steve and I baked a pumpkin crumb cake instead of recreating cookies. A new Christmas tradition, perhaps? Why not?

Cake for breakfast.

Sweet.


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Thursday, December 1, 2011

Gluten free gingersnaps from Karina,Thanksgiving-Free Goddess
Gluten-free gingersnaps- a classic holiday cookie.

This time of year simply begs for gingersnaps- the classic and humble cookie that tastes old fashioned and elegant and post new wave all at once. A subtle, spicy, gingery bite that snaps with a crunch to awaken satiated taste buds soaked in a holiday sea of egg nog, cheese logs and peanut butter balls. Fancy cookies, these are not. Slathered with green icing and star sprinkles? Not exactly. Though, you could, I suppose. Slather these. And sprinkle with abandon. If you're of a mindset that more is more, and nurture not the minimalist mantra of Less.

The choice is yours.

Go old fashioned and let the gingersnap goodness tingle on its own.

Or go wild.

And get your frosting on.

It's your party.


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