We spent the morning easily, comfortable in knowing that we didn't have to be anywhere. Days like these feel rare, but maybe it's in part that we so rarely take advantage of them. After breakfast and a load of dishes, we grabbed the books that we've each been reading and walked out to the park. The sun was bright, casting a warm white light, the sky a clear and even blue. Last night's thunderstorms had wrung the humidity from the air--this is what summer should always feel like.
Since I went gluten-free, at least half a dozen people informed me that I needed to try Risotteria. It was on our list of GF restaurants, and looked like it would be good, but we never made the time. Also, it is located in the West Village, and we just don't seem to be in that area very often these days.
A couple weekends ago, Chris and I took my very good friend Carolyn and her unbearably, make-me-laugh-till-my-stomach-hurts cute daughter to go see The Little Mermaid on Broadway. It was in part a belated birthday gift to the tot as well as a going away present. You see, my two favorite TriBeCa fashionistas will soon be embarking on a southern adventure! Though I will miss them both very much, I am also incredibly excited for them, and now have a wonderful excuse to visit Texas again.
After a post-show dinner at our go-to GF joint in the theater district, Nizza (more on that at a future date), Carolyn asked if she could thank us by taking us to dinner as well. "Are there any GF places that you haven't tried yet?" Many, yes, but I thought of one in particular. Risotteria.
After a week and a half of being completely overwhelmed at work, Chris and I drove down for a couple days of fun and relaxation with his family on the Jersey shore. The June-long rain ended with the month and the weather was perfect for morning cereal on the deck, strolling the boardwalk, and lazing with a book on the beach. During our trip, we had meals ranging from barely edible to decent; a couple tasty appetizers and cocktails at sunset on the last night were a memorable reprieve.
But after only two days away, I missed my kitchen terribly.
Chris and I used to order pizza, oh once, maybe twice a week.
There's an amazing Italian place just two blocks down the street from us with doughy, chewy coal oven pizza. I don't think that the sauce consisted of anything more than, sweet, hand-crushed tomatoes, and each pie was covered with bright, white slices of fresh mozzarella and a few leaves of basil. I still count it among the best pies I've ever had. We ate it often, and with relish.
Then there were those nights, usually on weekends or a late night after a long and stressful day at work, when we craved the kind of pizza that promises to arrive in thirty minutes or less. You know, the kind that comes with garlic-butter sauce on the side and makes you feel a little less human post-consumption?
In any and all of its forms, we loved pizza.
And then I went gluten-free (cue dramatic music).
For obvious reasons, it was immediately apparent that we would no longer be ordering our pizza, so we began to search for GF alternatives. Fortunately, we very quickly came across a well-reviewed, packaged pizza crust mix has changed the way we think about pizza for dinner. Chebe pizza crust cooks up thin and crisp and cracker-like. The blend of dried herbs in this mix was unexpected the first time we made it, but is very good and goes surprisingly well with any combination of toppings or sauces. We now buy it in bulk and always have it on hand for a quick and easy dinner. We have truly come to love this pizza.
If I were to show someone a snapshot of the Monday through Friday weather here over the past two and a half weeks, I'd be willing to bet that I'd have difficulty convincing anyone that we're now slipping into mid-June. Isn't the phrase "April showers"? At least the weekends are looking like summer.
So, despite the date, I'm still finding myself looking to cold weather fare. I promise, though, once the rain lets up, I'll have some lighter, more summery creations to share!
That being said, dinner last night was an exercise both in comfort and creativity: pan-seared pork chops and a Dijon gravy with caramelized shallots and thyme, and buttermilk parsnip puree with roasted garlic.
In conceiving of this dish during the day, I imagined that the pork chops would finish with a subtle sweetness and the parsnips would be a salty, creamy contrast. The exact opposite was true. The pork chops browned up with a nice, salty crust and the gravy carried over the deep spice of the Dijon and shallots. The parsnips were smooth and tangy and slightly sweet, with an almost celeriac twang. It's a fresh flavor that I'm looking forward to pairing with light, flaky white fish or tender sea scallops...once this unseasonable dreariness clears.
Having grown up in Wisconsin, it was probably inevitable that I would one day wind up making my own cheese.
I am always up for a culinary adventure and after discovering this, I just couldn't resist. Last year I ventured out and made my own pumpkin puree for Thanksgiving pies, so making my own ricotta didn't seem that big of a stretch. Plus, the recipe looked simple enough, and--believe me--it was.
You start with whole milk, buttermilk, heavy cream, and a bit of salt in a large pot. This would have appeared a monstrosity to me months ago, but since eliminating gluten, my lactose intolerance has vanished. Today, it was beautiful--so thick and clean and white. Pulling my spatula through the mixture, it looked as though I were stirring marble.
It took maybe half an hour or so for the milk to begin to curdle. Small, fine grains of white began to separate from the thin yellowish whey. It didn't look like there could possibly be enough actual cheese in that pot to measure out at the two and a half cups promised by the recipe, but I turned off the heat and walked away anyway.
Ten minutes later I returned and began to transfer the curds into the cheesecloth-lined colander waiting in the sink. I didn't have a wire mesh skimmer, and my slotted spoon wasn't able to do much of anything beside release the curds straight back into the pot. So, I used a regular old spoon, slowly transferring the curds and whey into the colander and letting the cheesecloth do it's work.
This past week I learned that May was Celiac Awareness Month. Upon discovering this, I thought how appropriate it was. May is the month that I decided to start my blog, the month in which Chris and I finally began to visit the GF restaurants in our city, and most importantly the month that I've really begun to get in touch with what this new lifestyle really means to me.
In addition to helping me to feel well physically, being gluten-free has introduced me to a new way of eating, of thinking about food and the way I cook. I currently have over half a dozen different types of GF flour in my cupboard. Non-GF baking always has seemed (and still does) to me an untouchable science. I knew what each ingredient did, why it was important and that the way in which it was added was often even more crucial. The thought of straying from a recipe any farther than adding a new flavor extract or folding in a bag of chocolate chips, however, made me uneasy.
Now, I can't wait to experiment, to dive off the edge of recipes and transform them into something vastly different. I cannot wait to fail, to see my creations emerge from the oven imperfect so I can then contemplate what could be added or eliminated to make them better. Being a lifelong perfectionist, this is new ground for me. And it excites me more and more every day.
I love finding myself in this, love redefining my relationship with food, and I love sharing it with all the wonderful people in my life.
This morning we hosted a GF brunch to celebrate our little Nilla's first birthday. As much as the gathering was for our deserving pup (she acquired many new toys and lots of delicious treats!), it was also an opportunity to spend time and share food with a handful of our close friends.
Today was one of those days. One of those days where I rolled in and out of bed in a half-sleeping stupor, forcing myself up every nine minutes to tap the alarm clock yelping harshly on the dresser, for well over an hour. One of those days when, after waking, I couldn't help but settle onto the couch with a tired pup snuggled into my cheek for another twenty minutes more before finally dragging myself into the shower. One of those days where, even having replaced my usual weekday-morning green tea with a more weekendly cup of coffee, I just couldn't seem to clear the fog in my head and gain momentum into my busy day.
It was one of those days where I found myself longing for comfort food.
I wanted something warm and beefy, a stew perhaps, or maybe something with noodles or cream or cheese.... And then, someone was kind enough to retweet someone else's link to these quinoa-corn muffins. Many people serve cornbread with chili or barbecue, but when I was young, it somehow happened that we always had cornbread with beef stroganoff. Back then, of course, the cornbread came in those pressurized, cardboard cans that never failed to give me a partial heart attack each time I tore one open, and the stroganoff came in a box with egg noodles and a pouch of flavored powder--just add a pound of ground beef and you had dinner. I can only imagine how much gluten was packed into that meal....
Dietary restrictions aside, I've reached a place in my life where I prefer to use as many recognizable, pronounceable ingredients as possible. I find the process to be more engaging, the end result to be more rewarding and definitely more satisfying. So tonight I would try my hand at a homemade beef stroganoff and freshly baked quinoa-corn muffins.
One of the first things that people ask upon learning that I cannot eat gluten is, "What can you eat?" Being gluten free automatically disqualifies anything made with wheat, barley, rye, as well as a surprising array of additional options from one's diet. It's hidden everywhere, disguised in various additives, lost in the unpronounceable list of ingredients in nearly all processed foods. I found out the hard way that even soy sauce--of all things!--contains gluten. It turns out wheat is the second ingredient. Wheat? Yes, wheat.
Going gluten free has certainly been a learning experience, however, it hasn't been the nightmare of deprivation that I think many people assume it to be. Yes, it has eliminated many things from my diet, but I have felt better knowing that I can't pick off the brownie tray that occasionally materializes in the office kitchen and that my afternoon snack can no longer consist of one of the many packaged goodies that used to beckon around 3pm. I mean, don't get me wrong--it's not all fruits and veggies....
For nearly everything that you can imagine that you would miss, there is a GF alternative. Or one can be created. Since eating this way graces me with so many other benefits, perhaps I am a bit biased when I say that many of these alternatives are equally as good or better than their non-GF counterparts. My own prejudices aside though, the gluten-tolerant in my life, including the man for whom I make dinner every night, tend to agree.
cooks up thin and crisp and cracker-like. The blend of dried herbs in this mix was unexpected the first time we made it, but is very good and goes surprisingly well with any combination of toppings or sauces. We now buy it in bulk and always have it on hand for a quick and easy dinner. We have truly come to love this pizza.
