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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Our New Apartment: Design By Color

Create a budget-friendly built-in look with IKEA bookcases.

My mind is a wee bit toasted this happy June Monday. No Darling, I haven't been indulging in any fragrant mind-altering substances. I've been unpacking. I've been organizing (like a sixties housewife popping mother's little helpers). I've been making hundreds thousands one million micro-decisions. Important, earthshaking decisions. Like, where should we stow tea boxes? Chocolate? Quinoa flakes? And what drawer would be most convenient for the ice cream scoops? (Yes, I have three.) Where should the recycled aluminum foil and rolls of toilet paper go- you know, in a feng shui sense?

Because above all else, I am seeking calm. I am cultivating peace. I am inviting inspiration. Preparing for my muse. Opening to a new chapter in this winding road journey of ours, hurtling as we are, ever faster to our mortality (yes, another June birthday looms).

We have landed in Studio City on a quiet leafy street, where pajama clad neighbors walk their dogs early, sipping soy lattes and yawning to birdsong.

These are my people.

I haven't been cooking much (though I did bake some chocolate mint cupcakes for a certain son's birthday this weekend), which means I don't have a new recipe to share- yet. So I thought I'd share a few iPhone shots of our new living space. A quick peep into our new apartment. And just so you know?

I shelve my books by color.

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Gluten-Free Pasta Frittata with Kale (Dairy-Free)

Karina's Gluten-Free Pasta Frittata with Kale (Dairy-Free)

It's crunch time here at Casa Allrich. Moving day looms. Packing has begun. I've been sitting on the floor like a cast-off princess in a fairy tale assigned to her individuating task, combing not through haystacks or mountains of tiny grain but musty boxes of thirty-five-year-old letters, stacks of faded photographs and yellowed clippings, evidence of another life allegedly my own. I am struck most by the persistent echoes, the parallels spiked with the quirky twists of fate that led me here, to now, the line between seeking and creating blurring into a narrative that persists in your life like an ache.

We seek what we need to become. We long for the parts of ourselves we discarded out of necessity or people-pleasing acquiescence. Accommodation is a common theme in many a woman's life. Mid-life sharpens this trend into focus in subtle ways. When you begin counting seasons, and fewer summers await you, each choice you've picked up to now- and every discarded loss- becomes bittersweet and ripe with meaning.

All this contemplation and dust as we recycle the last remaining things we carry.

Our life has been whittled and sanded and simplified these last six years. An empty nest has its gifts. From the east coast to the west coast we have pared down and let go with each move (five times in six years). No original furniture remains. We own a sofa (a floor model bought in Marina Del Rey). A bed. Two desks. The truckload of books and old paintings is now a carload.

My boxes of cookbooks have shrunk from twenty to two.

Our move to Studio City is a gesture toward community (writing and film). A move closer to family (both sons- and a new daughter-in-law- live closer to Studio City than Redondo Beach). A move away from the ocean, but toward sun. From fog to heat. Our new neighborhood is a quiet, leafy one, framed in well tended white fenced gardens that rival Provincetown. We walked the block last week. Waist high lavender bushes, roses, iris and honeysuckle feed me in ways concrete and steel cannot. Small town New England is in my bones, I guess. And forever will be.

Today I offer you a recipe spun from the magic of leftover brown rice spaghetti and eggs- a creamy, light frittata. Perfect for when you're simply too tired to cook. Or you have nothing in the fridge but a carton of eggs, half a bag of kale salad and last night's leftover spaghetti in eggplant marinara.

The "cheese" I used was a vegan "mozzarella" (my current favorite is Vegan Gourmet).



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Strawberry Spinach Salad with Berry Dressing

Strawberry Spinach Salad with Berry Dressing

Don't cook. Go FRESH.

The older I get the more I crave simple. The sweet, relaxed comfort of home cooking. An impromptu picnic on the patio with family-style classics like horseradish spiked potato salad and strawberry rhubarb crumble. Instead of growing worldly and sophisticated and dabbling with truffle oil, each new gray silver hair spins my taste hula hooping into simplicity faster than Lady Gaga can waggle. Well, maybe not that fast. She is pretty nimble. But you get my drift. I'm whipping up ten-minute rice stir-fries, not Coq au Vin. I’m blending up pomegranate smoothies, not roasting Duck a l'Orange.

And lucky me, the summer season is all about simplicity. Who needs complicated and fussy when the farmers’ markets are abundant with glorious, fresh ingredients? Vegetables in every color. Ripe and voluptuous fruits. And every one of them gluten-free. And dairy-free. That’s the beauty of it. No imitation here. No game of let’s pretend. This is nature’s bounty, pure and raw and beautiful. No deprivation. Zero. None.

When folks with celiac disease first learn they need to live gluten-free (for life!) a throat tightening panic strikes. In a sudden, blinding flash they begin to mentally catalog every favorite food they must now avoid like the plague. The list begins with sandwich bread for many, and often ends with pizza, bagels, spaghetti or cupcakes (by this point, imagined in all their lustrous glory through an unexpected blur of angry tears). Our wheat-based food culture is insidious, ubiquitous, and gluten saturated. Our nemesis- the grain protein gluten- is infused in or added to too many foods to count (soy sauce, really?).

This is why I gently suggest going naturally gluten-free. At least for starters.

Diving into the complexity of gluten-free baking (with multiple flours and starches), or spending hard earned cash on packaged gluten-free foods full of odd ingredients such as tapioca starch, quinoa flakes and xanthan gum, can pinch not only the budget, but the soul. Taste buds need time to adjust. Your palate was raised on wheat and dairy foods. And trust me- both are acquired tastes. I know this is true, because after years of living gluten-free and dairy-free, I can honestly report that I hold my breath walking past the bread shelves and the gourmet cheese displays at our favorite local market. Baked goods made with wheat flour exude an odd, sickly- sweet aroma that does not smell appetizing. And cheese? When you haven’t eaten dairy in years, it smells exactly like spit up- no offense to babies. And milk? Cow's milk smells like a creepy combo of cheese curds and animal hair.

I am sorry to tell you.

So if you are newly diagnosed, or an old pro celiac who's been tempted by the news of a Domino's gluten-free pizza (just say no!), step back and take a breath. Visit your local farmer’s market this weekend instead. Drink in the gorgeous, gluten-free abundance of the fledgling summer season. Go vegetal. Toss together cool and tangy salads. Grill zucchini, asparagus, and peppers in a rainbow of colors. Blend creamy smoothies with fresh strawberries and coconut milk. Take advantage of juicy, local fruit and make a quick and elegant salad that will lift your spirits and nourish your body. Grab someone you love and dine al fresco

You won’t miss the gluten. I promise.

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How To Make Vegan Pesto

Vegan pesto is all about the herbs and nuts. You won't miss the cheese.

The thing is, making pesto is not an exact science. It's intuitive. It's flexible. And lucky for us dairy-free folks- whipping up fresh pesto sauce is easy-as-pie (I should say, easier than pie, because gluten-free vegan pie is not all that easy).

You can whip up a vegan pesto from any combination of fresh herbs, nuts and good tasting olive oil that your little heart desires. You can use cilantro or basil. Or both. Or try a light and fresh combo of mint, basil and parsley- my favorite. Choose pecans or walnuts or traditional pine nuts. Even hazelnuts.

Dairy-free sauce never packed so much goodness.

More than just a pasta sauce- pesto adds a big flavor boost to all kinds of recipes. Stir it into tomato sauce  just before serving. Or plop a dollop into a bowl of Italian soup. Add a spoonful to stew. Schmear some on croutons,  gluten-free toast and grilled cornbread. It's a fabulous base for pizza toppings.

You can also add pesto to roasted potato wedges and grilled vegetables. Stir it into polenta- or spread it on wedges of broiled polenta. It dresses up rice and risotto, pasta, noodles, and even grilled tortillas. It kicks up salad dressings and hummus.

For flexitarians, pesto is a bright, herbalicious accent for grilled salmon, shrimp, and fish.  Not to mention, egg dishes. Pesto and huevos is a match made in ovo-lacto vegetarian heaven.

So even if pesto is considered passé by some, an eighties foodie fad gone by...

Do we care?

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Gluten-Free Sun-Dried Tomato Focaccia Bread

Today's new recipe? Gluten-free sun-dried tomato bread.

 

A Focaccia To Love

Moving season is upon us. Yes, Los Angeles has a moving season. Southern Californians do not like to move in cold weather- in other words, when the mercury dips below the 60º mark. 58 degrees? It's time for UGGs and cocoa and ordering in. Not for hoisting sofas up or down a flight of stairs. Are you crazy?

And yes. We are moving. Come June 1st or thereabouts we are joining the migrating, apartment swapping masses. We are weeding through the promises that bloom on Craigslist (a veritable bouquet of alluring superlatives). Amazing! Gorgeous! Light and bright! And the ever popular- HUGE! This whole searching (and so far, not finding) process inevitably makes me insanely hungry for bread. Not store bought bread. Freshly baked warm from the oven bread. The kind of rustic, crusty loaf that conjures the word hearth. And home.

Because when you're searching for a place to live, nothing whispers home to your soul like the yeasty sweet aroma of baking bread.


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Spring Veggie Dip - Gluten-Free and Vegan

Karina's gluten-free vegan veggie dip with carrot sticks.

Living rootless is a mixed gift bag. There are no neighbors who know my history, or my family. Or even my name (unless they happened to glance by accident at the removable punch-label on our mailbox that sports our shared surname, one half of the story). I have no garden to weed. No leaves to rake. No fence to paint. I walk the city block unnoticed (flirting with invisible) in frayed men's Levi's and a four-year old sweatshirt. I do not mind the anonymity. I find it kind. It suits me. Like my faded Converse One Stars.


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