How to Leave in 24 Hours

Packing for L.A.

Itinerary

On the way to Santa Fe you get a phone call. It's for your husband. You overhear snippets and wait patiently. There is interest in another script. Real interest. 

Driving talk turns on a dime from the grocery list (where you just added butternut squash in bumpy cursive) to the wisdom vs. craziness of dropping the day's plans and booking a flight to LAX. 

You sit quietly in the hot car, squinting at the blur of sunbaked sage along the highway while your husband thinks it over (and inside you are jumping like a kindergarten inmate, yelling, Why not? Let's go! This is everything you've dreamed of- script meetings, casting conversations- but, really, it's his call).

You do your best to embody Zen detachment.

What do you think? he turns and asks. 

You just smile. He knows what you think. You've been bitching about being under-stimulated for weeks, getting all gloomy again. There are more phone calls. Then suddenly it's a go.

You're leaving in twenty-four hours.

You start picking through dirty jeans and shirts. Distracted by the early morning slant of sun warming the tumbleweeds, you leave the laundry to grab a camera. Five minutes later you notice the bowl of ripe tomatoes on the blue tiled counter. You can't just leave those. So you wash them gently, slice and toss them into a roasting pan with olive oil, herbs and cloves of garlic. You add a splash of balsamic vinegar.

You slide the pan into a low-heat oven.

Tomatoes ready for roasting.

The house starts to smell like an Italian villa. You fold and iron and fold. You plug in your iPod Shuffle and choose 250 songs (no Sting). You think about Santa Monica and the last time you saw your son, Colin. You add some of his songs to your mix. Then you notice the roses you photographed this week (they have seen better days). You empty the pitcher. You get distracted by the beauty of the dead petals and dried leaves against the white garbage bag. You grab your camera.

Still life with garbage.

You air out the luggage that has been in storage since May- sliding it into the bright afternoon sun (you'll have to tip it sideways later to scoot a frantic lizard back to his usual vertical perch on the adobe wall). You wonder if the tomatoes are done. It's been two hours. Or more. You peek into the oven and inhale the slow roasted garlicky dense tomato scent.

You try not to panic about what the heck you'll eat for the next week (staying at the one hotel where you could get a last minute reservation in your price range- there's no kitchenette, no microwave). You imagine bags of chips and jarred salsa dinners. You hope Real Food Daily will have choices that are gluten, onion, bean- blah blah blah- free.

But you don't really care.

Somehow it will all work out. Or maybe you're just deep in denial, you think to yourself. You breathe.

Then there's the last bit of autumn roasted green chile to think about. And half a bag of small gold potatoes. One big mother of a sweet potato. And one lonely uncooked organic burger. Might as well make a green chile stew before you hit the road.

So you heat some olive oil in a pot, toss in some chopped onion, garlic, and crumbled beef, and sprinkle said ingredients with cumin and chili powder and stir until browned, humming a K T Tunstall tune. You throw in cut up gold and sweet potatoes and the last of the chopped roasted green chile. You stir up some organic beef broth and pour it in. A dash of agave. You let the stew do its stew-y thing while you contemplate which pair of sneakers to wear on the plane- Rocket Dogs or Skechers? Tough call.

You'll decide later.

There are toothbrushes and socks to be packed. But first, a glass of white table wine. Then a bowl of green chile stew.

This is the part of the movie, you think, when she looks at her husband sitting by the window, back lit by sweet light, and your chest aches in recognition. You see, the thing is, you always knew it. In your heart you just knew. Those movies everyone told you were fantasy? The on-screen or off-screen marriages that crackled with mutual admiration and no bullshit and you pined for that while those closest to you clucked in favor of sticking with your marital misery because - and I quote- No relationship is perfect and every marriage takes work?

Then why, Dear Reader- this time around, after twelve easy years- does it just keep getting easier? And life just gets more interesting? It's all about the risk.

And trusting your gut.

Whether it's making up a soup or reevaluating your career choice, or facing down familial opposition and sexual inertia because you actually believe in true love- it comes down to this. 

You have this minute. 

This second.

So. 

What are you going to do with it?

Beef + Mushroom Stuffed Acorn Squash

A hearty stuffed acorn squash recipe- paleo style comfort food for omnivores.

Feeding Paleo Appetites

Yours truly has been stewing. Not in the culinary sense, Darling. Stewing about Sting. And Oy, the photo of him ducking his head down in the back seat of his silver SUV outside the "exclusive" Hamburg brothel Relax. Ouch. A sheepish duck that possibly allegedly connotes canoodling guilt (okay, maybe he didn't actually canoodle-- maybe he innocently indulged in some very chaste and proper lap dances in a post-concert-suffering-from-exhaustion kinda way, you know, while sans wife Trudie and his six children).

Whatever.

I know I'm a little old-school on the whole marriage fidelity thing. I admit it. Marriage- in my book- means monogamy. If you can't keep it in your pants, Buster, why on Earth bother to marry? Go have fun. Who's stopping you? And, yes, even while I'm snug in my quaint monogamy I am well aware that many celebrity marriages are, shall we say, open arrangements (if not totally a sham-- arranged strictly for PR to hide a secret life and keep the heart throb action hero millions flowing in). But I have to ask. Exactly what brilliant meta message in a bottle does this send to your three beautiful daughters, Gordon? 

Oh well. I'm trying my best not to judge. Maybe Trudie's fine with it. Maybe she just got tired of all that tantric sex Sting blathered about in the press while their daughters were in middle school.

Back in the humble world of non-rock star status I may have to edit my Honda Fit driving playlist. I mean, there I was, scooting down to Santa Fe with my muffin-baking dish-washing stripclub-free husband- to buy acorn squash, grass fed organic beef, and roses- and every other song blasting over the audio system- it seemed- was a Sting song. I spent half the time in the car reaching over to push the next button.

Man, said my ho-free husband, You're tough. So are you ever going to listen to him again?

The post-feminist warrior mother goddess stirred inside.

Done with Sting, I answered.

READ MORE and get the recipe ...

Gluten-Free Goddess in Newsweek? Rock on.

We just returned from our weekly Saturday jaunt into Santa Fe- to shop at Whole Foods, Trader Joe's or Wild Oats, depending on our mood and our menu plans. Today's mini road trip was a tad more exciting than our usual gluten-free shopping extravaganza, however, because today we stopped by Borders and picked up a copy of the September 17th Newsweek magazine- the one featuring an excellent article on celiac disease, titled Waiter, Please Hold the Wheat by Anne Underwood.

Steve turned to page 62- to see if the buzz we'd heard was true (as I was busy fumbling in my over-stuffed shoulder bag trying to locate my reading glasses with no success). How cool is that? he said, pointing to the resource box and reading aloud, Browse more than 200 creative recipes and cooking tips from an experienced gluten-free chef.

Whoa, said I (ever the eloquent wordsmith). Pretty darn cool. Gluten-Free Goddess blog makes good.

Big congrats go to the chic and hard working Kelly Courson of CeliacChicks, the totally fab Heidi Collins, Alice Bast, and Vanessa Maltin of the National Foundation for Celiac Awareness, and Shauna James Ahern, author and blogger at Gluten Free Girl- all featured in the article, which by the way, Dear Reader is one of the better mainstream pieces on celiac disease this gluten-free goddess has read. And I'm not prejudiced. Really.

Pick one up and see for yourself.

Sunbutter Cookies

Here's an easy gluten-free cookie recipe made with sunflower butter- a post-modern peanut-free take on those retro peanut butter cookies your Aunt Lizzie used to make. You know, with those jars of Skippy peanut butter (or was it Jif?).

Instead of using traditional peanut butter in this recipe, I used sunflower butter, which has a golden nutty flavor not unlike peanut butter, but slightly different. Kinda like peanut butter's wacky, geeky brother. You know, slightly nutty. Fun. Like a bright new bike.

And they taste so good you just might want some more. Now, please.

I adapted this recipe from a peanut butter cookie recipe (submitted by Erin Smith) to Beyond Rice Cakes, an easy, fun cookbook (especially for teens and students) by Vanessa Maltin, director of outreach and programming at the National Foundation for Celiac Awareness.

READ MORE and get the recipe ...

Good Karma Meatloaf Pie with Dill Mashed Potato Crust

 

I'll just say it. If you like comfort food you're gonna love this meatloaf pie recipe with a mashed gold potato crust. It's simple, hearty comfort food. Because I'm a home-style cook. I'm no chef. I know my way around a kitchen but eviscerating a chicken? I'll pass. And I've never been attracted to truffles. I could care less about honing my knife skills. I chop slow and steady. Without fanfare.

My soul is built for comfort not for speed.

So it's no surprise I'm a rustic stew and roasted veggie gal at heart. I'm not  entirely sorry to see the summer come to an end. The 100ºF days. The kitchen so hot you hesitate to ignite a single burner- never mind turn on the oven. Enough, already! Knowing the fall equinox is just around the corner is fine with me. I welcome the cooler evenings, the gentler sun. 

Fall is eye candy gorgeous here in northern New Mexico- the perfect balance of honeyed sunlight and clear-as-a-bell cobalt skies, the quaking aspens and golden cottonwoods. The aroma of roasting green chiles. It's intoxicating.

And it's enough to brighten any comfort-food-loving mama's spirits. We get to turn our ovens back on again- and roast and bake to our heart's content.

Ironically- you remember irony, don't you?- the best protein for me now (once a vegetarian goddess) is animal sourced. At first I was resistant to include meat in my diet, clinging stubbornly to my life-long belief that the vegetable kingdom- along with some happy dancing-in-the-barnyard hens and generous brown-eyed moo cows and goats- could sustain me well. I was tickled pink to live for years on end (three decades) as an ovo-lacto vegetarian sometimes vegan. 

But after my celiac diagnosis, and additional digestive revelations- not to mention, broken hip- it appears my karma has a wicked sense of humor.

Veganism? Dream on. 

It just ain't gonna work. For the sake of my health and bones, I must officially join the ranks of the flexitarians. At least I'm not alone. The peace loving Dalai Lama himself discovered he failed to thrive on a strict vegetarian diet as well. So he eats animal protein every other day. He likes to say- with his signature twinkle- he is vegetarian for half the year. I decided if he could live with that,  Bubela, who am I to argue?

And so I made a meatloaf (a Maple-Apricot Glazed Meatloaf, in fact). And with the leftovers, I made- you guessed it! Meatloaf pie. 

Vegans and vegetarians- don't be blue- try my totally veggie Shepherd's Pie recipe- it's just as good.

Dill smashed potatoes top this easy pie.

Good Karma Meatloaf Pie Recipe

What to do with leftover turkey meatloaf or hamburgers? Make a pie, Darling. Sometimes I put together a single pie in my favorite clay casserole dish. But last night I divided up the filling and made two individual pies with a mashed gold potato crust.

Ingredients:

Leftover meatloaf- enough for two servings
1/2 cup roasted corn kernels- or baby peas
6-8 little grape tomatoes, halved
1/2 cup cooked carrot pieces
A splash of broth mixed with a touch of ketchup, to moisten
About two cups of cooked potatoes- or non-mayo potato salad (I used mashed gold potatoes with dill)
Sea Salt and fresh ground pepper, to taste
Dill or parsley for the top

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.

Use a fork to break apart the leftover meatloaf. Add the corn, tomatoes and carrots; mix to combine. Add enough broth and ketchup to moisten the mixture. Season to taste. Add a touch more ketchup or gluten-free Worcestershire sauce- especially if it is dry. Mix and spoon into a casserole dish or individual gratin dishes.

Top with cooked potatoes, mashed potatoes, or even vinegar potato salad. Sprinkle with dill, sea salt and pepper.

Bake until heated through and bubbling- about 30 to 35 minutes or so (depending upon how cold the leftovers were when you assembled your pie).

Serve with a crisp green salad.

Serves two.

Karina's Notes:

If you like a spicy meatloaf pie use your favorite salsa to moisten the filling and add some chopped jalapenos.

How To Make Roasted Green Chile Sauce

Fire roasted green chile, fresh from a roadside roaster.

How to make a roasted green chile sauce New Mexico style? First you start with bags of fresh roasted Hatch chiles.

The Fall Equinox is right around the corner. And in our small corner of the world that means only one thing- it's chile roasting time. New Mexicans are passionate about their state's most distinctive crop. Smoky, spicy and sweet all at once is the best way I can describe the complex flavor of New Mexican roasted chiles.

Roasters are ubiquitous now- along the roadsides and in parking lots- stoking their fires outside Whole Foods and Walmart alike, turning barrels of fresh Hatch chiles over open flames.

The aroma is enough to make you weep.

With fiery-sweet chile happiness, that is.

Vegetarian roasted green chile sauce.

Neuvo Mexico Roasted Green Chile Recipe

Here in New Mexico green chile is a sauce or a stew. You can use this recipe as a base for both. Use hot or mild chiles, to taste. Roasted green chile makes a fabulous sauce on enchiladas. Add it to casseroles and stews. Spoon it over fried eggs, beans and tortillas- especially huevos rancheros. Try it on rice, cooked quinoa and beans. Omnivores love it on steak, burgers, chicken and fish.

I can't imagine anything that wouldn't cozy up to green chile. Well, chocolate chip cookies- maybe not so much.

Ingredients:

Roasted Hatch chiles- two heaping cups, skinned, stemmed, seeded, chopped

5-6 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped

2 ripe tomatoes, seeded, chopped- I used Roma (plum) tomatoes

3 cups chicken or beef broth- reserve 4-5 tablespoons

Pinch of sea salt, to taste

Fresh ground pepper, to taste

A dash of balsamic or sherry vinegar

1 tablespoon agave syrup

2 tablespoons cornstarch (or potato starch/arrowroot, if you are corn-free)

Instructions:

In a large saucepan, combine the chiles, garlic, tomatoes, broth, sea salt and pepper, vinegar and agave syrup. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat; reduce the heat a bit and maintain a gentle, constant low simmer for ten minutes.

Add the cornstarch to the reserved broth and whisk to make a slurry or thickening paste. If you are using arrowroot starch instead make sure the broth is cool- it will work better if the reserved broth isn't hot.

Stir the slurry into the green chile and continue to cook- stirring- for another 7 to 10 minutes until the sauce is thickened (but not gluey, still pourable).

As always, taste test. If you used very hot chiles and the sauce is too spicy add a touch more sugar to soften the heat.

Remove from the stove and set aside.

Use as a base for a stew (add cooked ground pork or beef or turkey) or chili con carne.

Or use as a sauce for eggs, burgers of all persuasions, grilled chicken or salmon, and even casseroles (thin a bit if you need to).

Makes about four servings.