My Favorite Gluten-Free Diet Winter Recipes

Warm up Winter with cozy gluten-free recipes.

Cook Up a Lustrous, Cozy Winter

Cozy up and find sustenance with my updated collection of favorite winter recipes, from classic comfort food like gluten-free mac and cheese, to nourishing slow-cooked stews and hearty healing soups that warm you body and soul. 

From cider roasted vegetables and turkey enchiladas to holiday goodies like Flourless Chocolate Cake, and Gingersnap Stars, you'll find plenty of winter favorites to keep you well fed.

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Gluten-Free Pumpkin Cheesecake

Gluten-Free vegan pumpkin cheesecake- creamy and dairy-free.

Detox Meh-tox.

Is this the week to shun dessert in favor of lettuce and green detox soup? I can answer that.

The answer is no.

As in N. As in O. NO. Nope. Nada. Not gonna happen.

Because I, my darling, am a temptress. I am not going to write about New Year's Hoppin' John today, or some virtuous legume soup with kale. I am going to tease you. I am going to lure you- with one more fork-worthy dessert recipe before the final eve of 2012. A silky, creamy pumpkin cheesecake recipe that begs for a party. One last hurrah before the pale glare of January dawns in all her cold and sober glory. One last indulgent sweet before I gingerly step on the reality check scale. And maybe, sigh. A little hint of a sigh.

Because the annual jean shrinkage has begun. You know- that time of year when (mysteriously!) my jeans come out of the dryer a size too small. And that familiar jolly pie roll affectionately known as Doris is rolling her merry way up and out of my favorite roomy cargo pants. It's rather comical. And in truth, she makes me smile. I pat her affectionately.

Like a pet bunny.

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Winter Holidays: Celebrating Gluten-Free

Celebrating gluten-free in style.

Looking for inspiration and recipes for your gluten-free Christmas breakfast? Winter solstice brunch with friends? Vegan Hanukkah guests? A romantic New Year's Eve? Some simple winter comfort food?

Here is my collection of holiday favorites. Browse gluten-free recipes (most are dairy-free as well) and create your own winter holiday menu. Celebrate gluten-freestyle.

With love.

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Gluten-Free Chocolate Layer Cake

A rich, devil's food style chocolate layer cake for the holidays.

Angel Food, Devil's Style

Sharing food in winter is one of life’s quiet joys. As poet Edith Sitwell noted, “Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”

I contemplate her words and feel an ache that is dangerously flirting with longing. As we invest more and more of our (fleeting, precious!) time into our virtual lives, connecting not by touch or even by voice, but via endless shallow streams of social media- texting, downloading, uploading, scrolling through visual tidbits of other people’s lives (often strangers), privy to their breakfast, their political opinions, and goofy pictures of Fido and Kitty- I yearn to throw a party. To embrace the old fashioned ritual of baking from scratch, lighting candles, and inviting some human beings over for an evening of conversation and real time companionship.

Laughter and chocolate cake are good medicine, feeding not only our sweet tooth, but our sun deprived spirit as well. The spirit of connectivity, friendship and inclusion.

Yet for those of us living gluten-free (and dairy-free), the deep mid-winter season- with its twinkling celebrations centered around sharing food- too often feels the opposite of convivial. It feels gated. Off limits.

Look. Don't touch. Or taste. Smile graciously.

When you need not be hyper-vigilant about each and every forkful, the food centric holidays are, as the saying goes, a piece of cake. But to those of us with celiac disease and dairy allergies, a table heaped with food (glorious food) is a big steaming reminder of how different we are, a symbol of separation. Of not belonging.

This is when a gluten-free dairy-free chocolate layer cake is more than just dessert. It is a marvelous, beautiful thing. Bordering on luxurious.

Because to indulge (and share food) without worry is a true gift.

So pick a date. Text family and friends an invite. Or pick up the phone and call. Fire up your oven. Gather plates and candles.

Conviviality, connection, and cake await.


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Lemon-Iced Ginger Thins

A holiday cookie for grown-ups. Ginger thins with lemon icing.

Thin and Sweet Winter Treat

Indulge me a little, won't you? I promise it won't hurt a bit. This week I'm sharing a wonderful gluten-free Christmas cookie recipe I created for Allergic Living magazine last year. A recipe too good not to post here on the blog and share online. Some of you Allergic Living readers may remember it. It is a lovely, crispy-chewy ginger cookie with lemon icing. There is a slight change in the recipe. I've switched out the brown rice flour for sorghum- a gluten-free flour I much prefer.

We are still settling in to our Connecticut abode. Gearing up for our first winter in three years- since Northern New Mexico. Unpacking books. And art supplies. Installing a wall easel in the studio. Hanging a pine wreath. Watching for chickadees. Anticipating the coming Winter Solstice.

Moving into Winter- and the darkest weeks of the year- from sun abundant Los Angeles is both surreal and invigorating. Embracing change. Welcoming the new. Dreaming of what the New Year will bring us.

It's all good.



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Easy Vegetarian Minestrone

Classic flavors make this easy soup fresh and fabulous.

Easy Vegetarian Minestrone

This is an easy toss-together soup, perfect for rainy or damp weather. Serve with grated Parmesan, or make pesto toasts - gluten-free toast triangles with a dab of basil pesto.

Ingredients:

4 cups low sodium V8 juice or tomato-vegetable juice
3 cups water
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 medium sweet or red onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 carrots, medium, chopped
1 cup cubed butternut squash
1 cup fresh green beans, trimmed, cut
1 zucchini, medium, halved lengthwise, sliced into half moons
1 14-oz can chick peas, or white beans, drained, rinsed
2 teaspoons dried Italian Herbs- oregano/thyme/basil/marjoram
1 bay leafPinch of sea salt and ground pepper, to taste
A dash of balsamic vinegar, to taste
Fresh basil, chopped, for serving

Optional additions:

• Add roasted corn, chopped green chiles, cubed potatoes or parsnips, celery or jicama

• Add a pinch of raw sugar or agave nectar if the broth is too acidic

• Add more water, if necessary

• Add a splash of red wine

Instructions: 

Heat a large soup kettle (heavy bottomed pot) on medium heat and saute the onion in olive oil until transparent. Add the rest of the ingredients and stir. Cover and bring to a high simmer; then reduce heat to simmer the soup for about 45 minutes until the vegetables are tender.

Taste for seasoning adjustments.

This soup tastes better the second day, as the flavors mingle and develop.

Serves 4.

Recipe Source: thanksgivingrecipes-1st.blogspot.com

All images & content are copyright protected, all rights reserved. Please do not use our images or content without prior permission. Thank you. 

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Snowy Lemon Cookies

Light and lemony cookies for the holidays.

It is a strange thing. To write about the future, imagining Christmas (and lemon cookies) in Connecticut from a hot, bright, sunlit apartment here in Los Angeles. Such is the blogging life- often a life lived forward, imagining the new.

By now (as you read this) we are on the East Coast, sleeping on a blow-up mattress in our barn studio loft, waiting for the cross-country movers to arrive with our bed, our dishes, our books.

I imagine we are scrambling eggs in the skillet I packed. We are shopping for a used car. One that won't slide sideways in the snow (remember the Honda Fit in New Mexico snow?). We are stocking up on Udi's bread at our village market. Driving up to Great Barrington for the best cup of coffee since our honeymoon in Italy- at Fuel.

I sent ahead a winter coat. Warm boots. A cozy aviator hat (faux fur lined) with puppy-like ear flaps (oddly, bought in Studio City on a ninety-degree day). I imagine I am shivering more than I do in Hollywood. I imagine I am still tired and mildly dyslexic from the red-eye flight on Thanksgiving night.

I imagine I am happy.

And drinking in the pine scented air by the lake. Snapping iPhone pics of brambles by the river. Buying a waterproof map of local hiking trails at the general store. Boiling water for my favorite ginger tea.

And wishing I had some of these Snowy Lemon Cookies.


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Gluten-Free Vegetarian Thanksgiving Recipes

Cider roasted vegetables- pair with polenta, rice or quinoa.

We are almost packed. This week is moving week. This will be my last post from California.

If, like me, you happen to be celebrating without the bird this Thanksgiving, here's a quick round-up of my favorite vegetarian Thanksgiving recipes to inspire you. Most of these recipes are actually vegan- a dairy-free plus for those of us gluten-free and casein-free. The few recipes garnished with cheese can be easily converted to dairy-free by using your favorite vegan cheese.

Here's to a gentle Thanksgiving- next time- see you in New England!

Peace.

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Gluten-Free Thanksgiving Recipes & Tips

Gluten-Free Thanksgiving Recipes and Tips

The Big T. Thanksgiving. Nothing sends shivers of trepidation up a gluten-free or dairy-free girl's spine like the mental image of Grandma's sage pungent white bread dressing, or shimmying slabs of Aunt Ida's pumpkin pie. It's a butter and wheat flour gorge fest with danger at every turn. The gruesome gut-twisting threat of thirty-six hours chugging Pepto Bismol is poised to strike on every holiday decorated plate- jovial forkfuls of tradition and conviviality aside.

It can be a nightmare.

If you're lucky, your family is tuned in to celiac disease and aware of the angst and anxiety that food centric holidays can trigger. If you are blessed, they are thoughtful and well schooled in where gluten lurks (turkey broth and marinades, gravy, seasoning packets, spice blends, stuffing, crackers and pie crusts). They don't ask questions like, You can eat "whole" wheat crackers, right? with the emphasis on the word whole as if somehow, the word itself makes the wheat magically safe for celiacs to consume (it doesn't).

They don't indulge in meta messages and all that spooky passive-aggressive weirdness.

They won't sigh when you politely decline a slice of Aunt Ethel's pecan pie and say, Just don't eat the crust.

They won't hold up a pitcher of gravy and whisper, A little bit won't kill you.

Or my personal favorite, Go ahead- I'm allergic. And I cheat (actually said to me by an in-law).

Right.

If these persuasions are foreign to you, then you, Dear Reader, have much to be thankful for this holiday season. You are blessed with a clan that gets you, loves you without judging you, and cares about every morsel that enters your fragile cellular universe.

So this post is for them...

The attentive Moms and Dads, compassionate Aunts and Uncles, smart-as-a-whip Grandmas and Bubbes and best buds who believe that if food is love, Thanksgiving should be fun and worry-free and delicious.

For everyone.  

No big whup.

Because after all, we know true love has great taste.

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Applesauce Crumb Cake with Cinnamon

Cake lovers unite. Skip the pie. An apple pie spiced cake!

Coffee Cake to the Rescue

Knee deep in book boxes, I decided to bake a cake. Because trying to wrestle gluten-free pie dough for an apple pie just seemed too fussy. Too complicated. Though in all honesty, that isn't the whole, unvarnished truth. The whole, unvarnished truth is, Yours Truly is more of a cake person than a pie person (downright blasphemy this time of year, I realize, as Thanksgiving looms large). But yeah. It's true. Pies have their charm. I've been known to inhale a slice or two of apple pie in my day. But here's the thing.

And I'm going to be blunt.

Gluten-free pastry crust is simply not as flaky and tender and melt-in-your-mouth wonderful as wheat pastry crust. There. I said it. Fighting words, to some. And if you are among those true believers feel free to disagree. And go eat your gluten-free pie. I bless you with a thousand sprinkles of pie fairy dust. With love. And kisses.

And pink ponies.

Respectfully.

Gluten, you see, is more than a pesky protein with a bad rep. Gluten is what makes pastry dough soft, flaky and tender. Gluten is what inspired bakers to bake all those years ago, firing up their hand-hewn brick-lined ovens. Gluten was their muse. Their seductive mistress. Gluten took them beyond three ingredient pancakes and palm-tossed flatbreads. Gluten fed their imagination. Inspired tarts, baklava, cupcakes. Napoleons.

And yes.

Apple pie.

Because gluten is a magical ingredient (despite its bad press these days).

We have to admit it. She's not an easy paramour to replace.

Perhaps some day soon I'll be tempted to experiment with a gluten-free pastry dough. I'll be lured into believing I can recreate such delicate, fragile beauty. But not today. If I do crave pie I'll bake this no apology necessary Apple Crisp and serve it warm with a snowy scoop of vegan vanilla ice cream. Or this vegan Pumpkin Pie with Coconut-Pecan Crust.

And for breakfast, I'll eat cake.

Applesauce cake.

Right now, I can live with that.

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Gluten-Free Cornbread Stuffing with Maple Roasted Acorn Squash

Maple Roasted Acorn Squash Two Ways- Stuffed + Unstuffed (Cornbread Stuffing)

While we're all adjusting to turning the clocks back (excuse me while I yawn), I thought I'd reprise two Thanksgiving friendly recipes today. Both recipes are redolent with old fashioned autumnal goodness. Warm and subtle spices. Maple. Apple. It doesn't get any comfy-cozier.

First up is an easy, favorite side dish of mine- maple roasted acorn squash (and it's vegan, therefore perfect for those of you sharing your humble meal with vegetarian and dairy-free guests). The second dish is one of my oldest tried and true recipes.

It is from my very first Thanksgiving as a married woman, in fact.

We won't discuss how long ago that was, Darling, but I will admit it was way back with Husband Number #1 (it being first and all). I was anxious to do it up with style on my first Thanksgiving (as any blushing bride would be) and had the sudden inspiration to use cornbread and apples as a stuffing instead of the traditional- and familial on both sides- bagged white bread and sage dressing. And then I added curry.

Maybe that's when they began to notice I wasn't exactly a dyed-in-the-wool Pilgrim-esque kind of girl.

I'm not at all certain Husband #1 cared for it.

Husband #2 is a huge cornbread fan. And a curry fan.

Coincidence?


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Gluten-Free Pumpkin Bread with Walnuts

The new road home, and pumpkin bread recipe.

Pulling Up Roots. Again.

It's been brewing for awhile now- our dissatisfaction with LA and the film business, the slow, dawning realization that living out here is simply not sustainable. Every penny I make goes for rent and bills. The financial pressure is suffocating. And I have no space to paint. Physical space, of course. But also psychic space. The energy of LA is so imposing, so invasive. Someone else's narrative is always intruding. Even if that narrative is only a car alarm. Or a leaf blower.

I can't hear my own voice here.

And so I haven't felt like an artist in a long, long time. I hoped Redondo Beach might be different. But I still didn't have the studio I needed. It was healing to live at the ocean for a year. But again, not sustainable.

My husband and I have been empty-nesters now for seven years or so. Pursuing Steve's mid-life dream of writing screenplays. We've been living like gypsies, in a series of small apartments. But it wasn't always this way. We used to both paint for a living. We used to be homeowners, with a house and a studio, a garden. A family. Steve taught painting for extra income, but we lived off our art. We sold work in galleries, and lived well as artists. I met Steve in a painting workshop. And two and a half years later, he asked me out for coffee.

Art and painting have always been our first bond.

Truth is, these last few years I have missed our "life as artists". I miss having a home, a garden, a private studio. And I told Steve, after visiting New England for our son's wedding last year- I miss New England. I miss the seasons- which connect me to a sense of belonging, connect me to the Earth. I miss New England people.

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Pumpkin Polenta Recipe with Tomatillo-Avocado Salsa

My inspiration this week- pumpkin polenta with salsa fresca.

Time Travel

It's been a hot dry week here in Studio City. Windy. Dusty. With mercury rising into the 90's thanks to the annual Santa Ana winds. Fire weather. The polar opposite of the fallish, foggy mornings I just experienced back east on my trip to New England. We stayed in Great Barrington for four burnished days of autumn's last gold, catching the Berkshires at the tail end of my favorite season. More on the trip itself (and why we went there), soon.

In the meantime, I'll share a comfort food recipe from the archive- a creamy pumpkin polenta I cooked up while living in West Hollywood. So climb into my time machine.

Notes From WeHo: Comfort food weather has WeHo citizens ditching their flip-flops and plucking pumpkin colored sweaters off hangers, while tucking umbrellas into faux leather satchels. If you can find the dang umbrella, that is. It's got to be around here somewhere, right? You used it last year.

Maybe.

Or was that the year before? The harvest moon is playing tricks with your memory again. The crows outside in the oak trees caw like the crows in tomorrow's dream. Days turn into weeks and lunch turns into next month's breakfast. Hours spill through worm holes of time like so many episodes of Lost.

And the Buddha imagines the universe. And gets it close to right. We're talking atoms, people. Particles of teeny tiny specks of even tinier teenier fragments of a single point of something so small the naked eye perceives it as invisible.

I ponder this as I walk in a stream of brittle bronze leaves.

The succession of days that adds up to a life is only a blink. The moment when you started reading this sentence is already the past. You think about this stuff as you get older. When you squint into your future you see a shorter slope than the path that winds behind you. It can cause a slippery sense of vertigo. A tipping sideways melancholy that infuses every lost opportunity with meaning, bittersweet.

I walk to the market past ninety-pound skateboarders and a gaggle of thin actors smoking outside the Lee Strasberg Institute. I weave through Russian speaking men with impossibly sad eyes and impeccably groomed wheat-blonde women carrying shopping bags of kale. I smile at my neighbor sitting on his front wall listening to Miles Davis on a transistor radio. Great music, I tell him, feeling myself altering my cadence to the beat. It's JAZZ, Baby! he shouts, laughing as I pass by. I feel his joy in my chest. And I know he is exactly right. This whole life thing? This whole circuitous method of survival called living?

It's jazz, Baby.

And you just gotta go with it.


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Gluten-Free Pumpkin Donuts

Tender and light, gluten-free pumpkin donuts, darling.

Pumpkin Crazy

You might think I'm on a pumpkin bender, glancing through recent recipes here on Gluten-Free Goddess®. And you'd be right. I do this. Every October. I go on one long, crazy, pumpkin love affair. I am head-over-heels nuts about it. Because pumpkin is magic. In fact, if pumpkin was in a fairy tale, it would be the Fairy Godmother- not the humble buggy. It makes gluten-free baking transform, you see, as if touched by a star-tipped sparkling wand.

That's why I knew I had to tackle pumpkin donuts. Because donuts can be tough to replicate gluten-free. But I knew pumpkin would bring me luck, and sprinkle good fortune on my baking endeavors today. So, yes. I am pumpkin crazy. Crazy in love.

And you know what?

If pumpkin be the food of love, play on.

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Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies- Thanksgiving recipes

Gluten-free pumpkin chocolate chip cookies with a secret ingredient.

Reprising this autumn-inspired cookie recipe from the 2010 archives, because so many of you are new to gluten-free baking - and may have missed it!

Fall usually stirs my culinary imagination to conjure seasonal soup recipes and Crock Pot comfort food. The key word here is usually. Historically. As in, what I've done before, come the Autumn Equinox. This time around the season's wheel, however, my restless spirit has been wandering far and wide and away from dreams of butternut chili and baked rice casseroles toward the tempting, sweeter things in life.

As in cookies.

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Gluten-Free Chocolate Chip Cookies - New Recipe

How do I say this? These new chocolate chip cookies are the best.

There are stirrings afoot here at Casa Allrich. Our gypsy boot heels are itching to wander yet again. Tugging at the threads of our daydreams. Stirring up old ghosts like some October trickster wind. Frayed old dreams folded neatly away and tucked quietly behind the stack of responsibility are getting aired out with a vengeance and enlivening discussions once again. That trip to the Cape got us thinking.

But before I speak too soon, there are chocolate chip cookies to ponder.

The subject of cookies is a favorite topic on Gluten-Free Goddess, and for good reason. I've written about cookies before- in posts too numerous to count.

So why are these different?

Why are these chocolate chip cookies blog worthy?

I will tell you darling.

Because they are golden and gently crisp on the outside, and soft and chewy within. Like the cookie you remember- that gorgeous, sweet caramel bite of homemade love. Warm from the oven these taste remarkable like the classic Toll House cookie recipe I baked a thousand times.

I credit the new flours and fat I used.

Gone is the brown rice flour. Gone is shortening. I've nixed the tapioca starch. And the result is a truly wonderful, soft dough that tastes closer to a real Toll House cookie than any other gluten-free chocolate chip cookies (though delicious!) I've baked.

So while we here at Casa Allrich discuss our future plans to ramble, bake up a batch of these- for your own road not taken.


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Gluten-Free Pumpkin Streusel Muffins

My new pumpkin muffin recipe- with streusel topping.

This isn't a Halloween post. Or a Thanksgiving post. Technically. Though Thanksgiving is just a stone's throw away- if you somehow conjure a metaphorical stone to metaphorically hurl into the time-space continuum, piercing the veil of eight and a half weeks that blows by in a singular exhale, surely faster than light. And this exhale, it was only following a previous breath- a breath I took yesterday- which turns out to be one year ago. A year since that Pumpkin Praline Pie I baked. I have a hard time wrapping my brain around this.

This is a post about time.

Some days I feel as if I am slave to the calendar, an unwitting cog in the wheel of the year with Sundays and holidays appointed by proxy, designated by some superior force that rules my random wandering nature with an unforgiving fist, demanding obedience. Charting the course of my life.

Then I remember the truth.

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Autumnal Gifts - and favorite pumpkin recipes

A new friend, gentlewoman farmer Catherine, with eggs from hens Fiona, Molly and Mona.

The bittersweet, textured beauty of Autumn has always gripped my heartstrings, pulling me in deeper, connecting with some invisible part of me, so much more so than Spring. Much more so than summer's flirtatious pleasures. And Winter, well. She is a dark and icy mistress. That relationship has always been complicated. So unlike my truly, madly deeply love of Fall.

And here am I. In L.A... Where Fall is just a pumpkin spice latte.

Los Angeles is without an Autumn. I know apologists who claim there is seasonal change (deciduous leaves do transform here- from dry green to crispy brown, sometime before Thanksgiving). But there is no Yankee eruption of brilliance- no reds, golds and coppery oranges. There is no softened, morning skyline heavy with balsam scented mist. Ardent Angelenos do not seem to bristle with three digit heat in October (it was 106ºF yesterday). They do not seem to crave L.L. Bean flannel shirts and cotton turtlenecks, like I do. Flip flops and tank tops are year round fashion choices. Along with hair dye, tanning lotions and injectables that promise eternal Spring. Los Angeles is a town of perpetual 21. In platform heels.

There are weeks (months?) on end I do not see a single woman sporting natural gray hair like mine. Never mind a natural neck- or- well. You know. That's another story. You get the picture. Not only do I feel invisible in sexualized So-Cal culture, I feel irrelevant, and bored. Restless. And unconnected. Year-round summer feels shockingly dull. Artificial. And uninspiring.

So I took my husband on a trip.

We spent a week on Cape Cod (my old stomping grounds, for decades). And I ate up every minute with a spoon. I spent entire days outside, wandering, hiking, drinking in the sea air, the peace and solitude, the creativity of the community (artists and writers, gardeners, crafters, gentlewomen farmers and furniture makers). Strong, independent women with silver streaked hair, and natural beauty that had never known a dermatologist's needle. Women not focused on a mirror. But focused on their curiosity. On creating something with their hands. Their spirit. It was grounding. And enlightening.

And it felt like home.

New Englander Ralph Waldo Emerson said, What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.

Not to wax too geo-pious, but New England does infuse your blood by birth. It roots you to its culture, its distinct sensibility. Its Yankee eye for simple elegance. An appreciation for patina. For thoughtfulness.

For me, my rural New England beginning fostered a life-long love of books. Music. Antiques. Landscape painting. Simple nourishing food. Walking in the woods. Quiet rather than noise.

Show rather than tell.


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Pumpkin Cupcakes with Maple Cream Cheese Icing

A new gluten-free dairy-free pumpkin cupcake recipe for Fall.

I am on (a much needed) vacation this week- staying at a wonderful gentleman's farm on Cape Cod. I'll share tales and pics when I return to the west coast. But until then, I'm reprising a pumpkin cupcake recipe for you. To show you that I'm thinking of you, here on this slender spit of land jutting bravely into the Atlantic.

Before I get to my new cupcake recipe, I need to wander off a bit. Just briefly. Because it's who I am. A person who wanders. Ponders. Finds solace in books. I've been like this since girlhood. Curious. Serious. No good at catching balls. Or dressing dolls. I am beyond inept with hair. And eyeliner.

I get anxious and non-verbal if I have to wear anything that isn't a pair of jeans.

It might be because I'm a child of The Sixties, that starstruck Age of Aquarius, when kindred souls united for peace, beauty, and rock and roll. As Hunter S. Thompson wrote, "You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right," and there was that "...sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave."

I've been remembering the beautiful wave lately. The idealism. The hope. The belief that there is more to life than collapsing in front of the television and microwaving hot dogs.

The belief that beauty- as Steve Jobs believed- is important, has value. That we are deeply interconnected. That life on Earth is precious- from the house sparrow to the living sea. That we are part of a vast and mysterious collective- not merely of our absurd egos (who natter inside our heads and squander our attention on drama, conflict, acquisition and the need to control)- but of a newly unfolding awareness of astonishing inner space and outer space. Infinity in every direction. The Universe is far more capacious than we ever dreamed. Perhaps even multi-dimensional. A Multiverse.

Which begs the question.

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Gluten-Free Apple Cake Muffins

A tender and light apple cake muffin. Gluten and dairy free.

Apple Cake Inspired

Before we get to muffins, I have a game for you. Created spontaneously one night, after some dizzying Facebook scrolling (when did Facebook become one endless stream of bumper stickers?). Pardon my yawning.

I think I'll call this amusement... The Dating Game. Here's how it hatched over crudities and hummus.

"I wish I knew you in high school," I tell my husband. This is not news to him, by the way. It's a popular topic lately, now that I am in my second adolescence, eighteen years past mid-life.

I sketch for him a vivid narrative of study hall humiliations and spikes of burning shame, waving a carrot stick in his direction, just for emphasis. I search for words to depict how it feels when a snickering quarterback punches your clutch of school books with his fists, sending you to your knees in a crowded hallway to rescue the sprawl of English homework, algebra and biology books that emit the faint smell of ink and gum.

He sighs audibly. He hates to hear these stories.

"I would have played you my Tommy album," I say. "I would have cooked you brown rice and tamari. We would have talked about books. Siddhartha. On the Road. Women in Love."

He smiles and adds, "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas."

We toast Hunter Thompson with our mineral water.

"You wouldn't have liked me in high school," he says.

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New Quinoa Bars Recipe - Blondie Style

Our new favorite quinoa bar with almond meal, lots of good vanilla and dark chocolate chips.

The turn of the year's wheel inevitably stirs up ghosts. Last night we walked after dinner. Slowly, in a warm breeze, curled paper leaves scuttling the uneven side walk. Something in the air reminded me of New Mexico. And I remembered a day we drove to Taos, just to get out of our heads and escape the particular tunneling isolation of the writing life.

The afternoon was golden and soft, almost balmy. The kind of day that lulls you into believing winter is still far off. The trickster wind spun burnished leaves and pinon smoke around us with fingers warm and cool and so dreamy we almost floated along the crooked streets of Taos center, bumping elbows with straggling tourists in beaded earrings and adobe hued scarves, and locals in scuffed cowboy boots barking Spanish into cell phones.

We wandered through empty galleries and a well-stocked kitchen store. I fingered a set of engraved silver measuring spoons, but put them back on the shelf (too expensive to justify). Steve ordered a cappuccino to go, and we drove home along the Rio Grande listening to Steve Earle and watching the late afternoon sun dart down the canyon walls, back-lighting the almost bare cottonwoods, grayish brown and silver.

It was good to get away that day, get out of my head.

That night I dreamed of Russell Crowe. He was close by that month, filming 3:10 To Yuma up in Abiquiu. I read in my journal that we spoke about our fathers. He listened with his eyes, I wrote, grasping the loss of never knowing my father with a depth and muscle that held my pain fiercely.

This morning I woke feeling less heavy, and relieved of my usual L.A. bruxism. For the first time in a long time I felt the urge to pick up a paintbrush. To smooth a raw canvas with palms, flat and expectant.

Soon.

But in the meantime, I wait.

To wait, to surrender to this thing, this process, this road home to myself- it's not an easy thing. But if you offered me a pill to swallow, some cure, some promise, some magic, I doubt I would be tempted. Because there is a part of me- some stubborn, rusty, ancient part of me- that understands I must go through it, not around it. I must go down. Not up in a flight of fancy. I must get muddy and singed and hollow and exhausted.

I must tunnel through and scrape away with the tiniest of tools- my will- toward some small, shy truth. Excavating, digging past the illusions, the denial, the desire to please, to be light, to be pretty, to be approved of.

Authenticity.

It is my Holiest Grail. And why it is so hard to find it, I don't know.

For some of us, it just is.


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Gluten-Free Apple Crisp from a Gluten-Free Goddess

The best gluten-free apple crisp I've made. In this lifetime anyway.

I've been pondering identity lately. As in, am I the I writing this as Gluten-Free Goddess--- or am I a word-free, less defined kind of I that isn't actually I at all, but merely a spark in the collective energy source that is the great Mystery? Or Universe. Or Divine. Or whatever conceptual nomenclature you prefer.

Am I my thinking mind- or am I more of an essence, what we call soul, a truth beyond the assumed collection of thought patterns, personality traits, and personal history framed by a set of beliefs and separation known as the ego?

I do know I am not my disease.

One of the reasons I chose not to use the word celiac in my blog title was for just this very reason. I do not define myself as a celiac. In an identity sense. Yes, it says so on my medical records somewhere (in full disclosure, I think it actually says "possible sprue, resolved by the patient going gluten-free" because I couldn't afford an endoscopy). But I do not identify with my disease. That would be identifying with my gastro-functional limitations.

Hello, my name is Karina. And I have screwed up villi.

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Gluten-Free Turkey Meatloaf with Sun-dried Tomatoes and Pecan Crust

Gluten-free turkey meatloaf with sun-dried tomatoes and pecan crust.

A Turn Toward the New

The morning was cool and bright. It was going to be one of those quintessential Cape Cod autumn days. A day tourists swoon over. Worthy of a post card with The weather is sublime- wish you were here scrawled in black gel cursive between sips of a Hot Chocolate Sparrow latte. The sky was a cake bowl of cobalt blue with that particular pink edge to it that only painters notice, the blush that softened the tree line at the north end of the West Barnstable marsh gentling the heavy greens of the pines and oaks into a bluish, almost violet gray.

She brushed her teeth with fennel toothpaste and spit into the low slung sink, pausing to breathe. A long inhale to slow her heart. The cottage was pin drop quiet. The boys had climbed the rubber lined steps into the school bus hours ago, peanut butter and honey sandwiches bagged, milk money in their pockets. She had waved from the street and watched them navigate the bus aisle in shadow, avoiding her maternal gaze, not turning to wave back. Too risky, she understood.

The walk back up the curve of road to the rental she had found last spring felt different this morning. Not because of the air and its September clarity that sharpened the asters and the Queen Anne's Lace with impossible precision- though she felt a kinship with the acute focus the turning of the seasons always brings. That sense of realignment, a perennial return to purpose. Ironically, she always felt as if fall was the season of new beginnings. Not spring.

Fall was the season she woke up, as if from a dream.

Today was the first day of a plein air painting workshop. A post-divorce return to premarital roots, when she painted for the love of it- not the pragmatic bill-paying need of it. Painting for an income (however necessary it may be) is dangerous business. Courting the marketplace changes your work. A self consciousness slithers in and infiltrates your choices. The observer becomes observed. Judged. Rewarded for meeting expectations.

She had always been more than willing to please. To notice the cues and needs of others. It was more than habit. It was ingrained in her bones. She had an uncanny knack for it. And she hated it about herself. She hated her automatic willingness to anticipate and acquiesce. Sometimes she would hear her own words hang in the air and for a quantum, split second wonder who had just spoken. There were entire days lost to living outside herself, hovering above her left shoulder, just beyond reach.

Stepping into the tiny sunlit kitchen she stood still for a moment, tempted by the cluttered breakfast table. The sticky bowls and spoons. The allure of distraction. The comfort of routine. But it didn't take. She snatched her car keys off a hook and grabbed a canvas bag of painting gear by the door, turned the knob with her free hand and opened it wide. Three minutes later she made a right at the empty bus stop, and accelerated east down Old King's Highway.

To be continued...


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Gluten-Free Picnic Recipes for Labor Day Weekend

My newest picnic fave- quinoa salad with pears and pecans.

 

Labor Day is almost upon us. Summer's last bash. To inspire you to dine al fresco I've gathered my favorite gluten-free  picnic recipes, salads, and pot luck supper ideas- in one handy reference. Take advantage of the warm weather and get out of the kitchen. Spread a blanket under a tree or tote a basket to the beach.

Life is short.

We need more picnics.

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Gluten-Free Banana Crumb Cake

Lovely for snacking. Gluten-Free Banana Crumb Cake.

A certain someone in our household has a sweet tooth. And- best of all- he not only likes to eat cake, he likes to bake it, too (apparently baking can be a form of meditation for some folks, a calming, distracting respite from toiling away in one's head for hours, excavating the various thematic elements underpinning character motivation, conflict and story arcs. All those juicy, gnarly, invisible threads and knots we movie viewers take for granted when we settle in with our gluten-free popcorn to watch a screenplay come to life.

Something I've learned, living with a screenwriter (aside from the fact that baking is therapy)?

Don't judge the script by the movie.

Because chances are the script was good.

Chances are the script was tight and wry and sharp. And moving. And funny. Chances are the script made you leak a well-earned tear. Or two.

Then came the notes.

From the director. From the actor. From the producer. And the producer's girlfriend. Her dentist.

So the script gets whittled. And weakened. And tweaked. Scenes are added to make a character more likeable (How 'bout we give him a dog- or a koi pond?). Then locales get switched (apparently producers believe New Mexican Pueblo humor translates without a glitch to Australia's Gold-Coast). The language once precise gets watered down with unimaginative phrases you've heard before (not every actor can improvise like Robert De Niro I am sorry to tell you).

Sometimes the collaborative magic of filmmaking works.

And sometimes it doesn't.

And baking ensues.

Lately?

We always have cake in the freezer.


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How to Make Raw Cashew Cream and a Curry Ranch Dressing Recipe

Cashew cream makes a divine dairy-free ranch dressing.

Here in La La Land it's been too hot to cook. So I've been going raw. Numero uno- it's easy. Numero dos- it's tasty. And as an added bonus (if you need another nudge) cooking raw keeps the kitchen cool as a cucumber- which, by all accounts, is chilly by default, and, well. Cool. As in hip. At least around these hipster parts (it's right up there with gluten-free lately).

I am way past the hipster stage of life, I confess. But I admit I've been flirting with raw cuisine on and off ever since the monkey gut incident. Eating vegan and raw seems to help heal inflammation and tame my irritable, punishing digestion. Unless it's broccoli. Or onion. Or too much raw fruit. I still need to be careful. But eating mostly vegan soothes my pesky symptoms and revitalizes my cranky, creaky body. I am amazed at how much better I feel. Maybe it's all those perky little enzymes.

Now if I could only quell the stress factor.

Good thing I have an iPhone. Iphoneography keeps me sane. It's a way I can paint. Create. Stay engaged. Hopeful. It keeps my spirit fed. And my visually dominant brain happy.

Meanwhile, an iphoneoraphy girl's gotta eat. 

So I'll be soaking almonds and cashews for raw recipes. Freezing bananas. And stocking up on lettuce.

Why not try a little un-cooking yourself these last hot days of summer? This recipe for cashew cream is the perfect place to start. It's versatile and voluptuous. It's vegan and dairy-free.

You'll love it.

So go.

Start soaking.

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Gluten-Free Zucchini Lime Scones

Fresh baked zucchini scones with lime.

As the old Zen koan advises, row row row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily merrily merrily... summer is but a dream. Dear (beautiful and appreciated) reader, forgive my clumsy extra syllable as I squeeze summer in for life and stumble up the rhythm for the sake of my wandering focus today, which is how mind-bogglingly fast time goes by. In spite of the airless, oven-style heat. In spite of the sticky sleepless nights (thank goddess for iPhones).

Summer is careening into Fall faster than you can say Lady GaGa is gluten-free.

And zucchini is taking over the universe.

But I've got your back.

First up on the Z List is this moist and tender Gluten-Free Goddess Zucchini Bread that even GaGa herself might be tempted to bake (if she baked instead of practicing her waggle and ingesting only lettuce). There are these little gems- my Maple Sweetened Almond Zucchini Mini-Muffins (to die for). And this Zucchini Quinoa Breakfast Cake. Not to mention, Chocolate Chip Zucchini Brownies.

If savory zucchini recipes are calling to you, I've got some hot zuke favorites, too. Remember those crispy Fried Zucchini Chips with Lime-Mint Dipping Sauce? So good. And in the comfort food category, Creamy Penne Pasta Bake with Zucchini hits the spot. As does my old school Italian Mama inspired favorite- Zucchini Gratin. For a new wave no-cook vegan pasta, turn your gaze no further than this Raw Zucchini Pasta with Curry Cream Sauce.

And if that isn't enough to satiate your zucchini lust, I've got one more recipe. A new recipe we baked this morning. Perfectly light and golden, lovely for a Sunday brunch. Or any day you feel like visiting with a friend over a pot of tea.

Because life is all about flow, baby. Don't let it pass you by.

Row gently.

Bake some scones.

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Zucchini Gratin

Zucchini gratin gets a make-over. Gluten-free and dairy-free.

On the way to saving your life there are moments that stir up a thousand kinds of trouble. Denial. Anger. Grief. Desire. The last one is the trouble I hear about the most here on Gluten-Free Goddess. The slow burn of longing. Comments and letters asking, sometimes pleading, pining, always hungry for some beloved recipe one can no longer consume. Due to evil gluten. Food is an emotional issue. Charged with hot spots and invisible buttons that can be pushed and engaged by a myriad of things. A scent. A circumstance. A holiday. Food can equal love. Evoke comfort. Mom. Or lack of Mom. Food can feel like self care and nourishment. But it can also be a fence. A barrier erected to survive. A way to numb. Escape. Live three feet from yourself.

Because some days it's hard to be a human being.

Sometimes I get tired of blogging about food. Sharing recipes. Because in all transparency, I don't feel like a foodie. I don't build my day around a meal or shopping for ingredients. Food is fuel. And often (in my house) food is an after thought. As in, Sweet Tap Dancing Bodhisattva, I'm starving. It's six PM. And I have nothing in the fridge except a jar of organic peanut butter.

And lettuce.

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Gluten-Free Fried Zucchini Chips with Lime-Mint Dipping Sauce

Gluten-free fried zucchini chips with vegan dipping sauce.

The Dog Days of Summer are upon us. Gardens are exploding. Vegetables are shiny fresh and happy. From A to Z, produce is queen. 'Tis the season of abundance. You know where I'm going with this, right? Need I say more, Dearest Reader? Do I really have to wax poetic and effusive about the humble cucurbita pepo known as zucchini? Do you crave another verbal celebration of le fabuleux courgette?

Perhaps I should invent a tale about some beatific Italian grandmother and what she used to do with weathered buckets of fresh-picked zucchina, transforming the green torpedoes (still cozy-warm from the sun) into melt-in-your-mouth garlic laced bliss. I could go all James Frey on ya and pretend I had a childhood that included actual, fresh picked produce (in full disclosure, there were potatoes) and not canned corn and fried bologna.

Because I didn't have an Italian grandmother.

Or a French grandmother.

The one I had on hand was Polish. And not only did she not grow vegetables, Darling, I sincerely wonder if she ever ate a vegetable in her long and prickly life of nine decades- beyond said canned corn and the occasional boiled potato. Instant Sanka, Russel Stover Assorted Creams, and Lucky Strikes were her three favored food groups. So I often find it ironic that I blog recipes and take pictures of food.

Though Dr. Freud, perhaps, would not exactly be surprised.

I've been reading the book Women, Food and God by Geneen Roth. It is a thought provoking read, and I highly recommend it. Though it is not for the faint of heart. There's stuff in there we don't necessarily want to hear, clinging as we do, to our assumptions.


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