Baked Grape Tomatoes with Basil and Gluten-Free Cornbread Crumbs

Baked grape and cherry tomatoes with basil and cornbread crumbs.

I'm all for eating local (if it's organic- I can't see the point of chowing down on pesticides for the virtue of having traveled only sixty forty twenty miles to my plate). I'm also big on eating in tune with the seasons. I sashay right by strawberries in February- with nary a twinge of envy. I ignore tomatoes in January with a disdain worthy of a cane-wagging Dowager Countess.

With one glaring exception.

Those flirtatious little baskets of grape tomatoes- and those shameless, curvy cherry tomatoes. So plump and sweet and brazen. So... come hither. The rosy taste of summer itself.

Beckoning.

And although my winter cravings tingle toward a melting, bubbling, butter soft gluten-free lasagna hot from the oven, I admit without shame I miss the bright, acidic burst of Venus' favorite fruit. And I succumb. I cave like a saddle-shoed Catholic school girl offered a menthol in the girl's room. Without a blink of embarrassment. Because I have a plan, thanks to food blogger Lydia at The Perfect Pantry.

A plan to coax these devilish beauties from their summer vacay glory into the guise of winter comfort food.

I gather them and cradle them in olive oil and toasted gluten-free cornbread crumbs.

I bake them.

A taste of summer, hot from the oven.

As soon as I saw the recipe for Baked Cherry Tomatoes over at The Perfect Pantry I knew I would love it. Tiny tomatoes, fresh garlic, Italian herbs, olive oil, breadcrumbs. What's not to love? It's Mediterranean cooking at it's simplest and most sublime.

I've tweaked the recipe to make it gluten-free, of course. There's not a speck of gluten in my version. But you'd never guess. Which makes this easy-to-create side dish an instant top ten favorite for pot lucks and picnics and any number of anxiety inducing gatherings we gluten-free goddesses fret about.

Serve this heavenly dish without a whisker of apology. Don't even bother mentioning its gluten-free and vegan status. These Italian baked tomatoes are so tasty you'll be asked for the recipe. By gluten eaters. By carnivores. I promise.

In place of plain bread crumbs (a definite no-no for gluten-free folks) I used a wedge of my Yeasted Quinoa Cornbread to make tender golden crumbs that taste like polenta. For the tomatoes I used both yellow and red organic grape tomatoes (to me they're slightly sweeter than cherry tomatoes; but use what you can get in your part of the world; both are delicious baked). And for the oregano I used basil.

Just because.

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Gluten-Free Carrot Bread with Chai Spices

Gluten-free carrot bread with raisins and chai spices.

I've got a lovely tender tea bread recipe for you- a gluten-free carrot bread fragrant with chai spices and studded with juicy sweet raisins. Ever since I baked those happy, sunny carrot muffins I've been pondering carrot bread. I wanted to create a new gluten-free bread recipe that featured several whole grains, including (gasp!) brown rice flour. Shocking, I know. Long time readers will confirm I'm not the biggest fan of rice flours. I almost never bake with them. And yet. There I was. Standing in the Whole Foods check out line. Buying a bag of Bob's Red Mill organic brown rice flour. On impulse. Because it just sounded good to me. Wholesome. Nutty.

And friendly to carrots.

Which is important in a Thanksgiving recipes. The friendliness.

You want all your ingredients to get along. You want your flavors co-mingling in savory-sweet bliss. Supporting one another's strengths. Forgiving each other's weaknesses. No single gluten-free flour is perfect on its own, as you well know. Going solo doesn't work. It needs a supporting cast. It needs to find balance and achieve harmony via relationships. Give and take. That's what it's all about in the crazy game of gluten-free baking.

Kinda like love.

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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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