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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Grilled Vegetable Stack with Homemade Lemon Hummus

Smoky grilled vegetable stack with homemade lemon hummus.

Beneath the hot sapphire skies of an all too brief July, backyard grills are smokin' as savvy cooks keep the kitchen cool by stoking briquettes al fresco. Cooking and dining in the open air- even if your outdoorsy territory is merely a closet-sized urban balcony hanging off a sun-kissed wall of brick and mortar- is an enduring, classic, summer pleasure. 

The smoky sweet heat of barbeque spices, chipotle, and hickory laced sauces slathered on everything from burgers to shrimp and meaty portobellos is intoxicating- and hunger pang inducing.

So to further feed the flames of desire, I'm sharing one of my all time favorite grilling recipes.

And this one's for the gluten-free vegan crowd.

Over the weekend we grilled some of our favorite farm fresh veggies and made these rustic grilled vegetable stacks layered with a light and creamy homemade lemon hummus.

Deliciousness was the word.


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Quinoa Salad with Blueberries, Strawberries and Watermelon

A summer quinoa salad studded with fresh, ripe fruit.

I cook sparingly in the heat of summer. And only if I absolutely have to. It's one of the perks of being a grown up- and post empty nest. We cook if we feel like it. And if we don't? We grab some baby spinach and chard, frisee and herbs and make a salad. We like to keep things simple.

That's no surprise to you, I'm sure.

I don't exactly do elaborate. We don't go for complicated around here. And goddess knows, we don't do formal. If we can toss together a bowl of fresh salad greens and herbs, and add some quickly cooked protein to make a meal of it, we're content. We might add strips of organic free-range chicken grilled with lemon and black pepper. Or a piece of wild salmon broiled with a touch of agave and lime. Perhaps an organic boiled egg. Or two. If we're lucky, some leftover cooked quinoa.

Dinner in a flash.

Quintessential summer.

So today's post (and recipe) is a nod to the natural marriage of summer and simplicity. Get out of the house. Step away from the screen.

Disconnect.

Reconnect.

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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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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 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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Lemon Infused Gluten-Free Pasta Salad with Grilled Asparagus and Herbs

A light, lemony vegan pasta salad. Gluten-free.

Lemon Pasta Salad for Summer

To speak about something as prosaic as pasta salad seems downright ho-hum. I mean. It's just a pasta salad. It's something I tossed together with stuff I had on hand. I hadn't planned on it. I didn't spend days contemplating the ins and outs and quirks of gluten-free brown rice penne. In fact, if I'm being unabashedly honest here I rarely think about food at all.

Until I'm hungry.


Until those familiar, nagging pangs begin gnawing their pesky little way into my consciousness, distracting me from my preferred, visual nomenclature- which rarely includes anything edible.

I daydream about paint, the plight of bees, and Clint Mansell's score for Moon. I notice the temperature of light and the curve of negative space against a jar of old spoons. I think about expectations and illusions and perceptions. I ponder where my soul is taking me, tugging at me to pay attention to my life, inviting me through dreams and the random snippets of music or ideas or theories that skitter and skate and ripple the mental stream I wade in day after day, to consider time itself- if I believe in it- sliding by in a cool constant flow of now.

I rarely eat breakfast. I often forget lunch. And dinner time always surprises me. As if each day takes figuring out all over again how to live (to paraphrase the Deadwood Zen master David Milch).

This doesn't mean I don't appreciate good food. Or that I hate to cook (well, some days I am less than enthusiastic). I loathe junk food and processed food. I can't take credit for this- it's simply the way I'm built, the way my body so pointedly rejects any easy, packaged fix.

Even before I discovered gluten intolerance and FODMAPs I knew on some instinctual level that in order to keep this body of mine healthy and strong for the here and now I have to pay it some attention. I know I have to eat. And eat consciously.

And so I find myself rummaging in the little white painted cupboard that is my pantry.

And I find a box of brown rice penne.

In the fridge I locate a fistful of spring asparagus.

One lemon.

A few sprigs of dill, marjoram, parsley and mint.

The rest is history.

Now in my belly.

Fuel for instigating thoughts of rebirth, fragility, and the particular pink that is ranunculus.


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Millet with Carrots, Mushrooms and Mint

Gluten-free millet makes a tasty grain side dish.

To be honest, the only thing I knew about millet was what I read in fairy tales. You know the drill. Some evil, jealous stepmother or warty witch in the spooky woods would capture our plucky heroine- some flaxen haired, peaches and cream Princess down on her luck, misunderstood and pining for true love. The innocent and modest maiden would then be forced to find golden needles in haystacks or pluck pinches of wool off surly sheep or sort buckets and buckets of miniscule millet seeds. 

Tasks any one of us can relate to, right?

I mean, who doesn't relate to the tedium of domestic chores? Just when you finish matching the last pair of spring mountain fresh tube socks, the hamper begins to fill again in all its stinky glory. Mysteriously. It is never empty. Never. And the floor you finally got around to wiping clean and polishing until it gleams- if not twinkles- in the afternoon sunlight gets mauled by muddy rubber soles before you can count two shakes of a lamb's tail. And we won't even hint at the horrors that perpetuate in the so-called powder room.

Mrs. Meyers isn't rich by accident.

Fairy tales about feminine obedience and compliance in practicing our household chores (a skill set highly valued prior to Helen Gurley Brown) instructed us (pre-kindergarten) that the dutiful are not only more comely than their whining, uppity, stubborn counterparts, in the end (when push comes to shove) the gallant and toothsome Prince will actually prefer duty, modesty and obedience. We are persuaded that if we are patient and kind and willingly clean out the ashes in the fireplace, he will pick us. The good girl. 

The exiled Princess missing a slipper. 

His tender kiss will awaken us. His gaze becomes our  prize.  Our ultimate reward. So we can follow him back to the castle. 

And wash his dirty underwear.

The sparkly fairy tales we are fed today play out differently. There's no millet or spindles or poisoned apples involved. Carrie Bradshaw (not to mention, every female reality show contestant for the last ten years) hungers not only for the timeless promise of love (and absurdly expensive shoes) but for the jackpot prize of fame. It isn't enough to snag a Prince.

The whole world has to watch.

The Twittering, Facebooking, YouTubing contemporary Princess doesn't feel alive if she's not being observed, basking in media attention. She craves external validation and mirroring like an addict. Which- in a strange, if not classic Jungian way- circles 'round and reflects the old school fairy tales of my childhood. The neglected and unseen Princess locked away in a tower and the maiden drugged by a poisoned apple and sealed in a cold glass casket share the same root desire with her neo-narcissist sisters vocal-frying in reality show hot tubs, hissing in a tantrum as if on cue, or dripping big fat tears of shame on their EatSmart Scales.

They need to be seen. And heard.

Not simply for their pouty lip implants, or how unnaturally white their teeth are, or what their opinion is on the latest celebrity gossip. They long to be valued. And yes, I suppose you could argue that it boils down to wanting love and seeking a loving gaze, but I think it's something deeper, more intimate. I think it's about self-hood. And wrestling with authenticity. 

Trying to figure out nothing less than Who am I?

The hunger for that answer fuels their drive to be famous. As if we, the collective observer, the all seeing eye, possess the answer. 

But we don't. 

Individuation is a solitary task. You can try on attributes for size and see if they chafe. Or buoy. You can bounce bits and pieces off those around you and see if they stick or fall off. You can read and listen and observe and sleep on it. You can go for a run or change the sheets or write in a journal. You can make a pot of soup or order sushi take-out. 

You can find love and you can lose love and still not have a clue to who you really are. 

The answer isn't out there. It's inside. And the bit by bit excavation, as excruciating and millet-sorting as it may be- is worth it, in the end. One might even say, the process is its own reward. Because how you value and honor your real self is how the world will see you. 

And that missing slipper? 

It's right where you left it.

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Quinoa Salad with Baby Spinach and Grape Tomatoes

Quinoa salad with baby spinach and tomatoes.

Quinoa + Spinach = Salad Days

Here is a wonderful year-round salad that is inviting, fresh and vibrant. The sort of salad a certain individual needs on a damp, late winter day when the sky is paper white and the clouds are thick with snow. On a day such as this it is tempting to head straight for comfort food. That leftover Kicked Up Baked Mac 'n Cheese in the fridge. That wedge of Roasted Vegetable Kugel. But what the body craves may- or may not be- what the body needs.

I'm just saying.

I'm no expert on cravings. But I do know that if I make a habit of indulging every gnawing whim and urge that wiggles its way into my sun deprived brain I'd munch Blueberry Crumb Cake for breakfast and eat Horseradish Spiked Red Potato Salad every noon hour from now till the Vernal Equinox (a serotonin-boosting strategy not recommended, by the way, for those of us past a certain age where you can pack on voluptuous pounds faster that you can say blueberry pancakes on a stick).

It also doesn't help that yours truly sports three honkin' titanium screws in the left hip joint, curtailing one's enthusiasm for certain popular aerobic routines. Maybe if I Zumbaed I'd still fit into my summer winter jeans. As of last week there's not a pair of jeans in the house I can riggle into. [And by the way, why do doctors insist on referring to hip screws as pins, embroidering knitting group safe visions of a petite and delicate procedure that in no way involved a couple of workbench sized clamps and a battery operated power drill?]

All I can say is thank goddess for black leggings. Paired with a tunic top they hide a multitude of muffins.

And cake.

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Gluten-Free Shepherd's Pie Two Ways (one vegan)

Cooking light- gluten-free shepherd's pie with lovely gravy, two ways.

Gluten-Free Shepherd's Pie Two Ways (one vegan)

A cold rain is rolling through Connecticut, interrupting a whisper of mist with sudden bursts of stinging wet drops. The skies are wooly gray, gloomy and low. It's the kind of day that calls for comfort in the form of food. Something baked in a crock. Something piping hot and old fashioned. Something with mashed potatoes...

A savory pie, I said out loud, standing at the kitchen sink, listening to the staccato of rain drumming the skylights.

Don't tease me, said my husband, looking up from his latest screenplay.

I wouldn't joke about a thing like pie, I assured him.

Seriously. I'm thinking a shepherd's pie, I said. But not the usual shepherd's pie. No beef. No onion. No peas.

Please, he said. No peas.

You know, that could get you into trouble, I told him. Your pea prejudice. The foodie police will be at our door before you know it. Demanding equal time for peas. And I'm already in enough trouble with their ilk.

Their ilk? he asked.

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Kale Salad with Quinoa, Tangerines and Roasted Almonds

Kale salad with tangerines, quinoa, and almonds.

My Kale Crush

Something has frozen over. Or maybe pigs are flying. I actually, um, like kale. After all my mocking, my nose crinkling, my eye rolling. After tweeting disparagingly about the taste of this dark leafy green (I believe the word I used was swampy). Behold. I am converted. I have seen the light.

The turning point? Lacinato kale (also called Tuscan black kale, or dinosaur kale). The long, slender leaves are delightfully un-swamp like. And unlike many good-for-you greens, there is little bitterness to harsh your mellow. Lacinato (like its curly kale cousin) does benefit from massage- especially in silky extra virgin olive oil.

But then Darling- what doesn't?

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Raw Cashew Dip - Vegan and Gluten-Free

Party worthy. Crisp fresh veggies and cashew dip.

Go Raw for a Creamy Dip

I've been eating hummus all week. Help. I can't stop. It all started when I whipped up a big batch of my tried and true favorite, a classic chick pea hummus recipe with tahini and lemon (though in full disclosure, I used lime juice instead of lemon). I munched it as a party worthy snack, with retro bunny carrot sticks as we rewatched some Mad Men episodes in anticipation of the coming season this Spring (sophisticated serial television that just keeps getting better and better, does it not?). Mad Men is a show with keen originality, surprises, and rare insights into sexual politics, power, culture, and marriage- not only enlightening those of us who lived through the sixties (I was- er, am- exactly Sally Draper's age, so many aspects of the show are akin to watching home movies), but connecting the dots that birthed our current consumer pop culture, in all its tarnished glitz and narcissistic glory.

Then I nestled dollops of the stuff on warm and comforting bowls of brown rice and stir-fried vegetables (recovering from said cultural insights, and newly minted wife-slash-copyrighter Megan's saucy rendition of Zou Bisou Bisou).

I ate and I ate.

And then there was no more. I was hummus-less. Without hummus. Bereft. An empty fragile goddess sans my favorite vegan protein complement.

So I began to scheme.

I pined for the opportunity to blog another hummus recipe, but I'd already shared not only my classic style hummus, but my irreverent upstart hummus with jalapenos, lime and peanut butter (which apparently, on some vegetarian forum raised an anti-goddess ruckus). Not to mention, my roasted red pepper hummus, perfect for 'Party On' mode (I hear tell there's a Big Game approaching).

My thoughts did a shuffle play through new and cool possibilities.

And I remembered my raw cashew cream recipe. Why not make it thicker? Why not make it into a hummus style dip? So I did the sensible thing. I soaked some cashews. And guess what?

Raw vegan deliciousness ensued.

Bisou. Bisou.


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Warm Winter Salad with Roasted Banana Squash and New Potatoes

Roasted fingerlings, new potatoes and winter squash on baby salad greens.

After a long and restless night I am pondering potato salad and glitter. Sleep deprivation may be less than pleasant but it often breaks loose the inertia of stalled imagination (who among us has the power of will to maintain the status quo of the literal linear world after a scant teaspoon of sleep?). In my experience it is not prudent to ignore gifts of associative flight and whimsy. If one begins threading fingerling potatoes with the sequins of burlesque I say, go for it. 

You never know when such a spinning, sparkling muse will visit again.

It all started with a documentary (on Showtime last night) about the seventies balladeer Paul Williams- a touching story of fame, hunger, redemption and purpose (titled Paul Williams Still Alive because the documentarian had assumed he was dead) that- almost by accident- reveals Paul's award-garnering talent for writing sweet and soulful songs was never balm enough for his childhood wounds. Like so many artists snagged in the media-fueled web of fame + addiction, Paul's appetite for approval trumped all (imagine the tune-smith who wrote Rainbow Connection in an absurdly surreal TV shoot out with sexy Police Woman, Angie Dickinson). Until he got sober. 

And redefined success on his own terms.

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Mulligatawny Detox Soup -Thanksgiving-Free Goddess Style

Need to detox for the New Year? Make some mulligatawny soup.

Did you over indulge (just a little)? Are you craving something fresh and light and nourishing? Or simply feeling a tad under the weather with the mid-January blues? Don't worry, Darling. I've got a body and soul soothing cure.

Mulligatawny detox soup.

It's chock full of antioxidant vegetable goodness with detoxing spices to boot. Cook it on the stove top or in a Crock Pot and let it simmer for the afternoon, filling your kitchen with a comforting aroma that feels like one big hug.

Mulligatawny is one of my all-time favorite soup recipes. But this version is not the traditional mulligatawny recipe with chicken. Nope. It's meat-free and dairy-free, gluten-free and sugar-free. The spices help promote detoxing and healing.

But best of all? You won't feel deprived doing what's good for your body. This mulligatawny is a mouth crush of flavors sweet and savory, creamy, spicy and tangy- all at once. A gluten-free diet never tasted so good.

Vegan Mulligatawny Detox Soup Recipe

This delectable post-modern version of mulligatawny is deliciously complex. The chick peas give it a boost of protein; the apple gives it a sweet-tart kick. Use organic vegetables for maximum detox. Adjust spices if you prefer a mild soup, as cayenne pepper packs some heat.

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon avocado oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 inch fresh ginger, grated
2 teaspoons mild GF organic curry powder
1 teaspoon organic turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper, more or less, to taste
1 medium sweet or red onion, peeled, diced
4 medium carrots, peeled and diced
1 cup cauliflower florets, chopped
2 large Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and diced
1 medium sweet potato, peeled and diced
2 heaping cups thinly shredded cabbage
1 quart fresh spring water
2 cups organic fresh veggie juice blend (or your fave V8-style juice)
1 14-oz. can organic chick peas, drained
A small pinch of sea salt, to taste
1 14-oz. can coconut milk, stirred
Juice from 1 medium lime, or to taste
1-2 teaspoons organic agave nectar*

For garnish:

Thin apple slices or shredded apple
Chopped fresh cilantro, if desired

Instructions:

For a slow cooker:

Combine all of the ingredients in a slow cooker except the coconut milk, lime juice and brown rice syrup. Cover and cook on high according to your manufacturer's instructions for cooking vegetable soup. When the veggies are tender, add in the coconut milk and lime. Taste test. Add brown syrup to taste. Heat through 15 minutes.

For stove top:

Heat the avocado oil over medium high heat in a medium size soup pot. Add the garlic, ginger, curry, turmeric and cayenne and briefly stir for to season the oil. Add the onion, carrots, cauliflower, apples, sweet potato and cabbage, and sauté until softened, about 7 to 10 minutes.

Stir in the spring water and chick peas; season with a touch of sea salt, if desired. Bring to a boil and reduce heat, cover and simmer the soup, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are tender, about 20 to 30 minutes.

Add the coconut milk, lime juice and brown rice syrup. Stir well. Taste for seasoning adjustments. Heat through gently; don't boil.

Options:

If you desire a smooth soup, puree the soup with a hand held immersion blender (or puree- carefully- in small batches, tightly covered, in a blender or food processor) until smooth. Return the puree to the soup pot. Heat over low heat until serving.

If you prefer more texture, puree only half the soup, or mash lightly with a potato masher until you have the consistency you desire.

It is also beautiful left as is, as a hearty, chunky stew.

Note* I used to use organic brown rice syrup, but with the latest news about arsenic in brown rice syrup, I now use organic agave nectar or honey.

Serves 4-6.

Recipe Source: thanksgivingrecipes-1st.blogspot.com

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Gluten-Free Baked Stuffed Shells

Italian Dreams

There isn't a speck of Italian blood in me. Allegedly. No blood lines (even faint ones) to trace back to Italy's flavor and culture rich boot. I claim no Italian grandmother with deft, gnarled hands who could roll out ravioli dough in her sleep. No puttering, gardening grandfather who offered me my first taste of a sun warmed tomato straight off the string-tied vine. We didn't have lasagna on our Thanksgiving table. Or baked ziti. My mother never mixed me an almond infused Italian soda after a rough day at school.

So why is Italian food- forever, for me- the ultimate comfort food? Hungry, angry, lonely, tired- what do I crave? (Besides a bottle of wine? Darling those days are gone.)

Spaghetti slick with garlicky olive oil. Bubbling hot lasagna. Fresh baked focaccia. Bruschetta. Risotto. Baked stuffed shells.

All heaven.

The tough part is- living gluten-free AND dairy-free can seriously crush your Italian gilded comfort food dreams.

Back in the day, there were no gluten-free lasagna noodles or stuff-able GF pasta shells (not in my neck of the woods, anyway). Though times have changed, pasta-wise- thank goddess. Most supermarkets now carry gluten-free pasta in all shapes and sizes. And if you cook it just right (in salted water, till al dente) and immediately drizzle it with extra virgin olive oil- most of it tastes mighty good. And if you are among the agriculturally evolved among us who can digest milk, your cheesy world still glitters with buttery glory (cream, butter, and cheese go a long way to improving the flavor of gluten-free recipes, let's be honest). But.

If- like yours truly- you have to live without the salty flavor punch of Parmesan or creamy tang of fresh goat cheese, comfort food can turn into one big, ho-hum yawn. Vegan cheese is no substitute (yes, I've tried them all). Unless your concept of cheese involves an aerosol can, plastic-shiny slices in peel-away shrink-wrap or orange powder you added to hot milk (no offense to corporate giant produced fake foods, or anything). In that case, processed oil with pea protein vegan cheese might remind you of something seemingly related to the cheese family.

I can't get past the funky sock odor and poly-vinyl texture.

Maybe because I was lucky. I had two years of Home Economics class. I cooked my own whole milk white cheddar sauce for baked macaroni and cheese (the first thing I learned to cook, at 13, stirring a white roux with flour and unsalted butter). Post honeymoon I shaved velvet slivers of golden Parmesan from precious wedges of Italian Reggiano, thanks to two weeks in Italy. And I spoon-stuffed pasta shells with a classic blend of ricotta and shredded mozzarella thanks to an armful of hippie-vegetarian cookbooks.

So, yes, there are days I miss dairy food. Especially in winter.

And thus, began experimenting, inventing ways to make up for the loss of genuine cheesy goodness. The first part was easy. I turned to organic soft tofu for a ricotta substitute (my mainstay for years as a vegetarian goddess). I may as well admit I not only tolerate tofu, I love tofu. And lucky for me, this fermented bean curd stuff loves me, too (I know this is not the case for everyone- and for those of you with a milk allergy AND soy allergy, I truly feel your pain).

For the topping I use a blend of Italian seasoned bread crumbs (I use Udi's gluten-free white sandwich bread processed into crumbs with extra virgin olive oil, garlic, and herbs) and almond meal (almond meal has a soft, powdery mouth feel faintly reminiscent of grated cheese) with sea salt for a salty-cheesier taste.

The latest version (created back in West Hollywood) was a winner- and we've been making it ever since. The family loves it. Even the gluten-eaters.

All I know is there is never a scrap left over.

Which as any cook knows, speaks volumes


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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 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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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 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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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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