Savory Gluten-Free Scones with Olives and Rosemary

Gluten-free scones with olives and rosemary. A savory winter treat.

One of my holiday surprises was this nifty cast iron cornbread pan. This week I put it to good use. To celebrate the recent return of Downton Abbey, you see (season two has begun, and promises to be as riveting as the first). Scones somehow seemed more appropriate than cornbread. Though these scones would most certainly not pass muster with Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham. She would be- most assuredly- appalled. And raise an elegantly arching, ironic eyebrow in utter disdain. Gluten-free? Who ever heard of such a thing? It is as suspect and deserving of mockery as electricity.

Or weekends.

Who is your favorite Downton Abbey character?

I honestly cannot decide (though I may have inadvertently revealed some vaporous hint of favoritism). I love them all with a devoted heart. The cast, the superb writing, the stunning photography, the lustrous set design is all beyond delicious.

But if you, darling, cherish a favorite Lady, attorney or housemaid, or if you blush and inhale when the honorable Mr. Bates makes an appearance, please do share. We'd love to relish every detail along with you.

Make your case.

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Gluten-Free Orange Scented Irish Soda Bread

Good morning! Gluten-free orange scented Irish soda bread.

Mid January confession (now that we're half way to February and red hearts are sprouting up around chocolate displays in our local market). Valentine's Day looms. And yes, I use the word looms. Rather than a more enthusiastic awaits. Or glimmers. As in, I haven't been that into Valentine's Day lately. Not that I have anything against love. Or chocolate. Or roses. That would make me rather icy. A stone cold cynic. The prickly sort who kicks away puppies. Or grimaces at kittens and babies. Don't worry.

I don't indulge in any such blasphemy.

I still believe in love.

And though I may be, shall we say, a tad older than the estrogen-fueled ovulating audience targeted for Valentine's Day, I am not cantankerous. Nor am I without sympathy.

It's just that I find the accoutrements to our consumerist version of love rather ridiculous. All that red lace. Glitter lipsticks. And goddess forbid.

Thongs.

Never buy a piece of clothing that requires you to shave.

Everything.

I personally prefer a little mystery in my romance. Leaving something to the imagination. But then, I am a child of the long-haired free love sixties. Pre-porn aesthetic. We didn't fear body hair.

Last year we stayed home and ate baked mac and cheese for our dinner 'o love. And settled in with a Mad Men DVD. No red silk in sight. No high heels. Not exactly glamorous. But then, you know us artists. We have paint under our fingernails. We have more books than lipsticks. We are curling iron challenged.

I've never been into the whole glossy, magazine style glamor. I am more into comfort (and warmth- after all, it is winter!). I'm not a party girl. I'd rather be home. In my flannel PJ's.

Baking a soda bread.

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Gluten-Free Irish Soda Bread Recipe

Tender, delicious gluten-free soda bread.

As with anything in life, you get a little, you lose a little.

I just wish Mother Nature would reverse the getting and losing when it comes to life post-menopause, Darling. I'm losing on top where I've never been particularly gifted, if you know what I mean. I buy bras in the teen section because the only adult bras that fit me are those pull-over-your-head uniboob running bras and Ladies, come on. These tight little torturers (once you squeeze into them, which could take a good seven minutes; I timed it once) are, shall we say, less than inspiring. If you're over a certain age and so is your husband, you know what I'm talking about.

So I'm losing oomph there and I'm gaining in the new mid-section of me I like to call Doris because it somehow seems appropriate. These love handles deserve a name, after all. A retro name like Kitty or Patty or Madge. Because they're evidently not intent upon leaving. They insist they're here to stay.

So since Doris won't go away, I try to coax her to skedaddle by eating lots of lettuce. And a rice cake or two. I tell myself, Bunny food rocks! But I lose even more of my boobs when I eat this way.

And Doris still sticks around.

Which brings me to bread. (What midriff conversation doesn't?) In this case, Irish soda bread. Yep. The classic, yeast-free quick bread. I'm not gonna give up a bread this delicious. Even for Doris. I'll just have to run up and down the block. A lot. In between taking iPhotos with my iPhone. That's my plan anyway.

That should work, right?

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Gluten-Free Gypsy Soda Bread

Gluten-free soda bread, gypsy style.

By the time I attended art school and launched into life on my own I had moved ten times and attended nine different schools in four different states. Not all that unusual, I imagine, for many Americans. And for those of us with nomadic ancestry it simply feels natural to do so, to gather up and move in sync with the wheel of the seasons, aligned with winged migrations and turning stars.

I have always kept a gypsy heart, even when it wasn't easy. Even when I let her out only in my deepest dreams, inside a brushstroke, or as I stirred a makeshift dough with one of my young sons, improvising ingredients on a budget so small every dollar bill mattered.

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