Gluten-Free Orange Almond Muffins

A kiss of orange infuses these sunny gluten-free muffins.

Life in short bursts.

Here comes the sun. Baby daylight is yawning herself awake, stretching like a blinking blue-eyed kitten into a brand new year. Little by little we are inching ever so nonchalant toward Groundhog Day, toward snowdrops poking through the crust of winter snow, toward pink horizons and bird calls. But I am not bothering to count the days of winter. And I am not bothering to count calories. I am lingering in my passion for comfort food. For baking. For muffins.

In between bowls of vegan detox soup.

Because I know the deal. I know my body's cycle. I understand that I slow down in winter. I hibernate. I conserve energy. Translation: I put on a few pounds. I have evidence to prove it. But I no longer panic. I have danced around this yearly cycle a time or two. Well. More like fifty-two. Plus five. But who's counting?

Not me.

I dream instead. Of romance. Of ease. Of psychic room to breathe. I imagine an early spring and the scents of almond and orange come to mind- not for any particular reason or culinary logic. It's just whimsy. Or maybe it's because the sweet breezy taste of citrus feels bright and refreshing after all the dense flavors of the season, like pumpkin streusel and cranberry and sweet potato. I ponder iPhone photography apps and process images for Instagram while I stir gluten-free flours into muffin batter (I multitask my yearnings).

Truth is, I follow my cravings. And I honor them. Most of the time. Which sometimes means ignoring them, frankly (cocktail hour can be one long nightmare of an hour, especially in the grip of Midwinter). And sometimes honoring means listening to cravings. Acknowledging them. Validating them. Then grabbing them by the scruff of the neck and plunking them onto the Time Out chair.

And going for a walk- to let them sulk in silence.

But sometimes a craving is as simple and true as a muffin. A gluten-free muffin, thankfully (Goddess knows I lost my taste for wheat years ago). And in the grand scheme of things, a muffin is one craving I can live with.

Today.

And you know me.

I take things one kitten-blinking day at a time.


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10 Vegetarian Christmas Recipes

Here are a hand-picked few of my favorite gluten-free vegetarian recipes.

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

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

Where are the vegetarian Christmas recipes?

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

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

I go with the flow.

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


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Gluten-Free Chocolate Gingerbread Recipe

Delicious chocolate gingerbread loaf. Gluten-free yum.

Holiday Gingerbread,Thanksgiving-Free Goddess Style

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

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

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

Few of us have to make such choices.

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


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

Keeping the faith, one recipe at a time.

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

This anniversary recipe is for you. 

A rich dark gingerbread infused with cocoa. 

~GFG

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Gluten-Free Pumpkin Crumb Cake

A light, pumpkin coffee cake for your holiday brunch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now is new.

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

Cake for breakfast.

Sweet.


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Gluten-Free Gingersnaps Recipe

Gluten-free gingersnaps- a classic holiday cookie.

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

The choice is yours.

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

Or go wild.

And get your frosting on.

It's your party.


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Gluten-Free Goddess eBook

My new ebook- best loved recipes

[Now available on iTunes!]

My blog anniversary is just around the corner. Yep. Number six. And I am trying to wrap my little gluten-free brain around it. Six years. Six. That is a long time in blog years. (Maybe blog years are kinda like dog years? Every twelve months of blogging seems equal to seven human years. What I think I'm trying to say is that GFG feels... more grown up somehow. She's no longer a lurching toddler- or as Johnny Depp likes to phrase it, "tiny drunk"). The bumble-puppy years are over.

We're respectable now. (But hopefully not too serious.)

I  began blogging and sharing my recipes in late fall of 2005. There are over 400 original gluten-free recipes now on Gluten-Free Goddess. This astonishes me!

Looking over my recipe index this past summer I began to imagine the beginnings of a cookbook- a collection of recipe favorites from Gluten-Free Goddess. (In full transparency there have been cookbook offers, and some tempting projects pitched to me this year. But none seemed like the perfect fit. In fact, most felt like a tight shoe that pinched and chafed and left me preferring to go barefoot, taking my own meandering solo path, focusing on blogging, my first love.)

But then you know what happened. I got an iPad. And soon discovered the convenience and pleasure of bringing my entire blog into the kitchen with me. And that led to ebooks...
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Gluten-Free Butternut Pecan Scones

Get sconed, Babycakes, with these fab gluten-free scones.

Let's get sconed. Butternut squash style. But let me warn you. I'm having an existential week. The kind of week where gushing about a gluten-free scone recipe just seems kind of silly. The kind of week where irony reigns supreme on her cold and shiny throne. Yeah, I know. I could shrug it off and stuff it out of sight and soldier on. I could kick it to the back of my closet, behind the pile of ratty sneakers. I could swallow the pill of denial like a good girl and use words like tender and buttery and melt in your mouth scone goodness.

Who would know the difference?

But this morning I'm just not interested.

Fresh from the oven: warm gluten-free scones.

Because it's not the whole of who I am. The whole truth, you see, is messy. It's complicated. And it doesn't always neatly dovetail into a post about butternut squash or gluten-free scones. What I'm feeling is raw. And no doubt undercooked.

And I'm not even sure I understand it.

If I could describe it, I would tell you it is the acrid sensation of slipping backwards in time. Losing ground you worked so hard to get to. To claim as your own. The fragile foothold that doesn't come easy to a questioning, hyper-vigilant child. That elusive, cultivated center of pure confidence.

The belief in I am here.

The right to take up floorspace and wall space.

The right to carve out time for artistic self expression.

To spend money on materials, make mistakes, explore, discover.

Play.

To start over doing something new and unfamiliar.

The right to disappoint someone else.

To confuse them.

To place someone else's needs aside- instead of in front of your own.

So I ask you other Good Girls.

Why is it so dang hard?


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