Peanut Butter Ice Cream - Vegan and Dairy-Free

The richest, creamiest vegan ice cream I've ever made.

It is hot and steamy here in New England. And I am not cooking. I am not even boiling water for my habitual ritual of afternoon tea. I am sitting in front of a petite blue desk-top fan. Eating ice cream. Homemade ice cream, to be exact. With nary a trace of dairy or gluten. And apparently, it is the best homemade ice cream I have ever made (so says my ever willing, taste-testing husband).

Who am I to argue?

It is indeed fabulous.

The inspiration came via one of our favorite Los Angeles restaurants- Akasha, in Culver City. At Akasha you can always find a lovely gluten-free choice on the menu- as well as something vegan, which by default, is dairy-free. A sigh-of-relief option for those of us saddled not only with celiac disease, but a dairy intolerance as well. (As a side note, I have found it harder to dine out dairy-free than gluten-free-- chefs love their butter, cream and cheese. And because they pre-prepare so many items on the menu, it is often impossible to find a dairy-free choice.) One of the gluten-free dessert choices at Akasha is vegan peanut butter ice cream.

It. Is. Simply. Divine.

So I decided to try my hand at re-creating it.

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Gluten-Free Peach Crisp Recipe

Fabulous and peachy. Gluten-free peach crisp with oats.

 

As seasoned Gluten-Free Goddess® readers know, yours truly went egg-free in June 2007 (as well as dairy-free). Which complicated gluten-free baking just a tad. Browsing the recipe archives this morning, I found this amazing gluten-free peach crisp recipe- and got to relive the trials and tribulations of my fledgling gluten-free egg-free dairy-free baking. We've come a long way- all of us.

Time to re-share this wonderful summer dessert.

So climb into your time machine, campers. We're going back to the future. Sorta.

Your plucky gluten-free goddess at large has been conjuring egg-free disasters- one after another- in her tiny blue-tiled cocina. And tossing said disasters (affectionately known as drek) into the trash bin left and right, developing quite an aim despite her gloomy disposition.

She shoots- she scores!

In fact, the greenbacks spent on the alternative flours, gluten-free casein-free mixes, tiny allergen-free chocolate chips and organic bananas could have bought said Gluten-Free Goddess a lovely bottle of Lavanila Summer. The big bottle, not the purse size. 

And by the way, don't believe what they tell you about subbing eggs with bananas in a chocolate recipe, Babycakes, unless you have a taste for tacky, gummy brownies that have a faint but distinct Eau de Baby Food top note.

But in every third act... there's a moment.

You know, that pregnant pause, where our bruised but glistening heroine turns- damp and tendrilled, emotionally raw, soy-free chocolate smears artfully adorning her noble apron- and tucks an errant wisp of hair behind her left ear as she squints into the radiating oven, inhales a whiff of cinnamon-laced peachy heaven and senses deep in her fragile loyal heart she's got a winner. 

Cue music.

Darling, this summery vegan treat is so luscious your gluten-eating wiener-chomping friends will scrape their plates shiny clean and beg for more. They will. Promise.

So you may as well make two. One for them.

And one for you.

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Gluten-Free Peach Coffee Cake with Cinnamon Streusel Topping

It was so hard to let this cake cool before cutting into it.

Why is it when I bake a coffee cake I get all dreamy and gooey inside, like a knee-socked school girl in Latin class, riveted to the patch of peachy, fuzzy cloud against the swaying swatch of blue between the maple tree branches outside the classroom window, imagining love itself is out there, waiting, breathing, just beyond reach, ready to pounce. Like grace. When you least expect it, a gift arrives. Often in a form you don't recognize at first.

Like a plaid shirt.

And hands that juggle.

The truth is, I didn't even know juggling was on my list.

My top criteria (scrawled in gel black ink one rainy night post divorce) listed kindness, a sense of humor, artistic.

It conjured images of tempered masculinity. Intelligence. Adept at conversation. Curiosity.

Likes women (a big one).

It mentioned nothing about juggling. Or fierce devotion to coffee. Or a willingness to wash dishes. It neglected to include the seductive power of coffee cake. The sexy allure of a cinnamon dusted chin.

So imagine my surprise when on our second date (post French roast coffee and dirt bomb muffins) he grabs three apples. And juggles. While whistling. I can't remember the tune.

Because my knees turned to pudding.

And now, almost twenty years later, I hear a key in the door. And my heart is grateful. It's him. The guy in a plaid shirt.

Bearing peaches.

More gifts.

And once more, I accept.


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Coconut Milk Vanilla Ice Cream Parfaits

Easy elegance. Coconut ice cream. Berries. Boom. Parfait!

We are slowly melting here in the usually friendlier, temperate wedge of Northwest Connecticut. This heat wave has not been fun. Yesterday we hit 87º degrees. Inside the barn. In the kitchen (if you can call it that), where I am not cooking. I am painting. Very slowly. And sweating. Profusely. The studio air smelled like a West Hollywood muffler shop (if I was a betting soul I'd wager greenbacks on the landlord lying when he assured us the barn was insulated). Yours truly may be suffering quasi-serious brain damage due to these cranium-baking temperatures. I cannot form a cohesive thought. Neither can my iMac which gets dangerously hot (I am writing this post early, while the room temperature is a balmy 78º).

Obviously I am unable to muster any enthusiasm for cooking.

I've been living on peanut butter toast. And ice cream. Yes, I know. I am a poor, sad, sad role model. What kind of food blogger doesn't rise to the challenge and cheerlead you to whip up kale salads and raw peach smoothies? What kind of food blogger would simply give in to her sticky, damp fatigue and general overall crankiness and not create some inspiring, nutritious, bunny food slaw for you?

This one.

She who is digging into the archives to bring forth a delectable, no-cook recipe she actually DID make last night, tweaking it gently, standing directly in front of her three-speed fan, silver streaked hair pinned wantonly (fashionably!) askew atop her itchy, sweaty head.

Sweet and cold and creamy. Coconut milk ice cream.

It's what's for dinner.


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Gluten-Free Cherry Almond Crisp

Fresh organic cherries. Mother Nature's ruby gems.

Cherry Baby

Summer is heating up. And so is yours truly in all her hot flashing glory. (We'll get to the cherry almond crisp recipe in a moment- but first I have to get something off my chest.)

Last night my husband was scanning channels on cable. I sat down next to him, (quickie dinner plate perched on my knee) and crunched romaine lettuce, almonds and dried cherries as he watched the end of the Shawshank Redemption. One of his favorite movies. An affection shared by many a cinephile. This is a beloved film.

Then I heard it.

A line that stung and burned so deep and hot I stopped chewing. I stopped breathing. I sat as still as the fork on my uneaten plate of salad.

The despicable, murdering bully of a prison guard is being led away by police. We hear the voice of God Morgan Freeman purr with quiet authority that rumor has it this cruel and abusive man was led away "crying like a little girl".

The ultimate put down. Not only did he cry. He cried like a girl.

Because, really, who would ever want to be caught crying like a girl? It's the ultimate in weakness. The worst thing you could say about a man. It's dependent. It's needy. It's unmanly. Inadequate. Irrational. Disgusting.

Worthy of contempt.

A flood of sneers and mocking imagery ran through my head. All the put-downs of childhood endured and encoded in the hippocampus, stashed away for safe keeping.

You throw like a girl. You run like a girl. You cry like a girl.

Bullies. Belittling. Because girls are less worthy. Less capable. Less whole.

It's a message our culture delivers every day, via media of all kinds. From raunchy punchlines about yeast infections to commercials for thigh cream, from political pundits calling single women sluts, to the latest (oops!) leaked sex tape, from a misogynist song lyric that rhymes with witch to the impossibly high platform heels women teeter in, hobbled for fashion's sake, shoes designed for prey.

I think about this and our nation's Cult of Youth as I walk and sigh at twilight, wearing Converse sneakers and photographing violet shadows with my iPhone.

How often are girls and women celebrated for something other than appearance- a pretty object to penetrate, to own, or rate on a scale of one to ten.

And after a certain age- it only gets worse.

Just look at Botox sales stats. Women fear aging with a depth of disgust unfathomable. We are buoyed on an ocean of revulsion toward aging. Why else would we fail- collectively- to tell the honest truth about plastic surgery and the freakish waxy desperation it exudes? There isn't an actress over the age of 30 who can express worry or surprise with her forehead muscles any more (well that's an exaggeration. There are, maybe... three?).

Ask yourself- how often do we get to see ourselves depicted honestly, as complicated, brave, strong, authentically sexual- never mind brilliant, sassy, dimensional - and not be reduced to mere object or caricature?

Or worse, invisible.

This keeps me up at night. This girl stuff. This aging stuff. This what-do-I-do-next stuff. My hip starts to ache and I lie in the dark and feel no closer to solving my dilemma than I did yesterday. Or the day before.

And tonight?

I am sorry to say, I am no closer to an answer.

But at least I've told something true.



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Vegan Strawberry Chocolate Chip Sherbet

Ripe strawberries make delicious non-dairy sherbet

Now is the perfect time for a sherbet recipe. Why? Because June is lush and abundant in strawberries. And how do I love these sweet ruby gems? Any way I can get 'em. Popped into my mouth straight from the colander. Rolled in brown sugar and nibbled. Baked into scones (have you tried my Strawberry Chocolate Chip Scones recipe?) and Strawberry Chocolate Chip Muffins. Nestled into Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp.

And this week- transformed into a bliss inducing non-dairy frozen confection.

Sherbet- berry pink and creamy and just sweet enough. Studded with vegan dark chocolate chips (darling you know I love strawberries and chocolate together, and I commingle the two every chance I get).

So I hope you dig it.

And dig in.

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Gluten-Free Blueberry Crumble-Crisp Recipe

Kick-off your gluten-free summer with a blueberry crumble-crisp.

Blueberry Love

Summer is not officially here until the eve of June 20th- the longest day of the calendar year. But why wait to share one of my quintessential Midsummer recipes? The kindest season is far too brief. As the Bard of Avon once penned, summer's lease hath all too short a date. So who am I to hold back and play hard-to-get, to deny you even one day of partaking in this (rather modest) indulgence?

I believe in the here and now more than the promise of ever-after.

Not that ever-after does not hold its enduring charms. The swath we name eternity is threaded through and through with everyday blinks as brief as a silk worm's life. Which, as it turns out, is perilously close to a single, fleeting summer.

In my view, if I am honest with myself and paying attention, eternity can be found inside a June. Within a child's hand clasp. Echoed in a tea cup. All that I long for, wish for, dream of, has already happened, this I know. In some far off starlit part of me that remains forever untouchable and true, eternity is happening now, and breathes within the tiny beating bud of even my fears, and pain. It knows no boundaries, or Gregorian demarcation. It is patient. And full of music.

I see it flicker in my sons' eyes.

This gift of time.

And the moment I spot it, it is already gone, light years away, clean and immaculate.


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Gluten-Free Raspberry Coconut-Almond Bars

Gluten-free almond raspberry bars with coconut are sweet temptation.

Let's Party

Let's be honest. I am here today to tempt you. To coax you. To seduce you with a (gluten-free vegan!) dessert worthy of every single luscious calorie. In full transparency, I am admitting up front these are not fat-free. Or sugar-free. These aren't diet food. They're not proper for breakfast (unless you serve them with Champagne).

And you won't be able to sigh ever-so-wistfully at parties and mention, off hand, how hard it is to eat gluten-free at family gatherings and parties. Because, Darling Reader, you'll score zero sympathy points once people sink their teeth into the luscious raspberry jam filling nestled between buttery toasted coconut-almond crunch topping and tender hazelnut cookie crust. Nope.

In fact, these decadent raspberry coconut-almond bars should come with a warning:  

Be careful who you share these with.

{Because they are sure to fall madly in love with you.}

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Gluten-Free Fudgy Brownie Cupcakes

Fudgy Brownie Cupcake Love

Chocolate brownies were the first gluten-free dessert I attempted after shunning gluten forever and rebooting my life back in 2001. And I admit up front I used a mix. A gluten-free brownie baking mix (one of two available at the time). It was based on rice flour, starches and cocoa powder. And it wasn't terrible. A touch gummy, perhaps. A bit rice-y (you know what I mean- with that rice cooker aroma?). But they were sweet. And they were chocolate.

For that alone, I was grateful.

Yet.

I was (to be honest) unsatisfied. There had to be a way to bake a better tasting gluten-free brownie. A brownie that tasted fudgy and rich, and not like a cheap chocolate pudding mix.

Hence these Dark Chocolate Brownies were born, using real, melted dark chocolate. And the recipe remains a favorite- tweaked and adjusted over the years to accommodate my dairy-free reboot in 2007 (see all of my gluten-free dairy-free recipes here).

Lately we've been experimenting with baking brownies in a cupcake tin. Just for a change-up. We felt like tweaking again. We're using Baker's chocolate now (semi-sweet and unsweetened). And we're favoring hazelnut flour. We boosted the baking soda a tad. When they bake they rise and fall and crack like little flourless chocolate cakes.

We'll be taking these little beauties to Cape Cod this week. My husband is teaching an oil painting workshop. Road trip!

Have brownies will travel.



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Flourless Chocolate Cake - easy and gluten-free!

Readers' hands-down favorite: my flourless chocolate cake.

Flourless Chocolate Heaven-

Perfection for a Gluten-Free Diet

This is my go-to dessert whenever I'm having guests. Everyone loves it. And the best part is- the recipe is inherently gluten-free. No substitutions. In fact, this is the same flourless cake I've been making for years. It never contained flour. The only thing I've tweaked post-celiac diagnosis is adding more coffee and vanilla.
Just because.

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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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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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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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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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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 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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Vegan Peach Ice Cream

Gluten-free dairy-free peach ice cream.

A small gift for you this weekend. Some cool, frosty, non-dairy peachy goodness. A vegan ice cream recipe for the sticky dog days of late summer. Wait. Is it August already? Good goddess, the summer is careening by. It's true what they say about the concept of time. It speeds up and gets fluid as you get, um, shall we say, older. Seasoned.

One might even venture, weathered.

During your ritual morning walk your husband turns to you and mentions a moment from yesterday and the dirt path beneath you starts to swim (not that swimming surfaces are all that unusual out here in the shimmering southwest sun).

You ask, Wait. Was that yesterday? 

And he thinks a minute. Wait, he says. Friday? 

You hear the brittle dryness of the desert wind. The roar of the loud cobalt sky. There are red and sienna stones beneath your feet. The same stones as yesterday, last week, last year.

That was last week, you offer gently, shaking your head in a spin cycle of empathy and disbelief and astonishment. 

Dude, he says. Recalculating.

Tell me about it, you sigh.

Weeks morph into days.

How about some peach ice cream for breakfast?

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Gluten-Free Cherry Clafoutis

Gluten-free dessert is solved. A luscious cherry clafoutis, no sugar.

My cherry clafoutis has a little secret. Well. Two secrets. Wait. Actually, three. At least. It's a clafoutis bursting with secrets. But first, I must mention something.

Are you listening, darling?

Put down your iPhone for a moment, will you? You can text later. When you're not driving. Or brushing your teeth- hazardous especially if one attempts texting while scrubbing one's used-to-be-pearly-enough whites (before the advent of dental bleaching) with a vibrating rechargeable toothbrush. Vanilla mint toothpaste can spatter in shockingly wide and impressive arcs, inflicting remarkable damage upon various household goods and personal items including tidy, stacked baskets of freshly folded jeans and t-shirts still cozy-warm from the dryer in the basement, I am sorry to tell you.

But I digress. Back to dessert.


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