Gluten-Free Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp-Crumble

Warm from the oven strawberry rhubarb crumble.

We've been blessed with fecund weather here in Southern California. Love is in the air. House finches are singing. Mourning doves coo. Roses are unfolding their velvet petals. Trees are budding creamy white, violet-blue, and pink.

In other words, picnic perfect. So I've been craving crisp and crumble desserts. The easiest of baked fresh fruit sweets... lovely for springtime picnic, or summer backyard get-together. A perfect ending to a grill-side supper on the deck, al fresco.

Although I have featured a strawberry rhubarb crisp in the past (kissed with a hint of balsamic vinegar) I decided to play around with an alternative topping to the classic pairing of tart rhubarb and sweet ripe strawberries. And I grabbed a secret ingredient from my pantry.

Can you guess what it is?

The secret ingredient in this old fashioned crumble dessert is an ingredient your grandmother probably never heard of.

Quinoa flakes. Gluten-free quinoa cereal flakes add a distinct, delicate flavor to this fruit crumble's sweet and nutty topping. The texture is light and lovely- and far less chewy than oats.

We thought it was spectacular.

And as a bonus? This gluten-free dessert is xanthan gum free.


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My Best Gluten-Free Apple Crisp

The best gluten-free apple crisp I've made. In this lifetime anyway.

The I in my disease.

I've been pondering identity lately. As in, am I the I writing this as Gluten-Free Goddess--- or am I a word-free, less defined kind of I that isn't actually I at all, but merely a spark in the collective energy source that is the Great Mystery? Or Universe. Or Divine. Or whatever conceptual nomenclature you prefer.

Am I my thinking mind- or am I more of an essence, what we call soul, a truth beyond the assumed collection of thought patterns, personality traits, and personal history framed by a set of beliefs and separation known as the ego?

I do know I am not my disease.

One of the reasons I chose not to use the word celiac in my blog title was for just this very reason. I do not define myself as a celiac. In an identity sense. I do not identify with my this disease. That would be identifying with my gastro-functional limitations.

Hello, my name is Karina. And I have screwed up villi.

But I am not my screwed up villi. Just as I am not my post-cataract lens implants. Or my mended broken hip. Or the silvery streaked hair that bristles like a squirrel on this prone-to-migraines head. I am also not this post-menopausal body that has brilliantly succumbed to a gravitational force superior than lunges and squats (in the end gravity wins, I am sorry to tell you).
 
The older I get, I find less and less comfort in defining myself at all- never mind defining myself by my various bodily quirks (not to mention, my southerly migrating butt). I derive no solace in my mental quirks either. My beliefs, or assumptions, or my random monkey thoughts. Even my skills are a poor capture of who I really am. I do not identify with how many paintings I've painted or sold, or how many likes I receive on Instagram. I do not crave recognition as a mirror. The alleged prize of fame and fortune remains less than compelling, my least urgent motivator.

I instead wander the hours of my days seeking answers that lead to more questions. Not answers that close the book. As in, subscribing to a system that has it all "figured out".

As Anne Lamott likes to say, certainty is the opposite of faith.

Certainty is finite.

The end of growth. It clips the wings of possibility- the bigger truth that exists beyond my small understanding. Closing the book on the question of Who am I, exactly? would be foolish. The Big Mystery is far greater and more full of awesome than I can ever attempt to imagine. And whatever micro-teeny part I play in this infinite universal system called Life, I intuitively know one aspect of it, thanks to five-plus decades of living. Whatever It is, It is fluid. Everything changes. Including time. The past, present and future. The Universe (it's expanding, you know, faster than they first calculated). My experiential perception of myself (also expanding). The I that does not exist, because the I is only ego. The nattering, unreliable voice in my head.

So if this I does not exist--- who is craving this apple crisp?

Perhaps the only sensible response is this.

Be one with the apple crisp.

Now that I can do.




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New Quinoa Bars Recipe - Blondie Style

Our new favorite quinoa bar with almond meal, lots of good vanilla and dark chocolate chips.

A New Quinoa Bar - Blondie Style

A short and sweet post to share a new gluten-free quinoa bar recipe with chocolate chips. It's a Blondie style chocolate chip cookie bar. The quinoa flakes and almond meal add texture, flavor, and protein. Not that I'd go so far as to call it health food. But. As sweet treats go?

This one's mighty tasty.


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Gluten-Free Chocolate Chip Quinoa Cookies

Quinoa chocolate chip cookies. A gluten-free favorite.

Have I Got a Faux for You

My last cookie post stirred up a veritable stew of feelings. From oat-loving high fives and boogie till the cows come home oatmeal cookie bliss, to very sad, That's okay, I'll sit this one out in the corner moping. Because oatmeal? It's not for everyone. Apparently, oats can be unkind to sensitive celiac tummies. So while many celiacs celebrate the availability of certified gluten-free oats (thank you, Bob's Red Mill!), just as many shun this humble cereal grain for the sake of symptoms or safety.

Avena sativa? Not welcome in many a gluten-free kitchen.

Some believe the trouble starts with its globulin or legume-like protein called avenalin. Some think it's the soluble fiber factor. Others believe that the prolemine in oats called avenin triggers a celiac-like response. The debate rages on. And I'm no scientist, I'm sorry to tell you, so I'll sit this one out. But.

The truth is, Babycakes, you don't want to be around moi after I've eaten too many oats- gluten-free certified or not. Although I tested negative for oat allergy, if I over indulge with my Homemade Gluten-Free Granola or those aforementioned oatmeal cookies, yours truly produces enough, um, wind in my nether regions to keep Wyoming powered for a week.

It ain't pretty, is all I'm saying.

So of course I had to play around with the oatmeal cookie recipe. I couldn't leave my oat-shunning peeps out in the cold without a chewy golden cookie of their own. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. I stirred up some quinoa flakes, quinoa flour, sorghum flour, organic brown sugar, and olive oil and vegan chocolate chips and guess what?

I think you know what.

In fact (shhh- don't tell those lucky oatmeal cookie folks), this cookie is even better than its oatmeal cousin. It is, I swear, my new favorite cookie. I am Patsy Cline Crazy about it.

Quinoa flakes rock.


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Quinoa Breakfast Bars with Blueberries

Quinoa flakes make a delicious gluten-free breakfast bar.

Blueberry Quinoa Bars

For gluten-free folks who prefer to avoid rolled oats (even certified gluten-free oats and oatmeal), I have good news. Quinoa hot cereal flakes are enough like rolled oats that I use them in all kinds of baking recipes. From classic fruit crisps and crumbles, to chewy cookies and cinnamon laced carrot raisin cake, quinoa flakes are a tasty, nutritious alternative to gluten-free oats. 

I love the nutty, complex taste quinoa flakes bring to a gluten-free recipe. 

I hope you do, too.

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Gluten-Free Blueberry Crumble-Crisp Recipe

Kick-off your gluten-free summer with a blueberry crumble-crisp.

Blueberry Love

Summer is not officially here until the eve of June 20th- the longest day of the calendar year. But why wait to share one of my quintessential Midsummer recipes? The kindest season is far too brief. As the Bard of Avon once penned, summer's lease hath all too short a date.

So who am I to hold back and play hard-to-get, to deny you even one day of partaking in this (rather modest) indulgence?

I believe in the here and now more than the promise of ever-after.

Not that ever-after does not hold its enduring charms. The swath we name eternity is threaded through and through with everyday blinks as brief as a silk worm's life. Which, as it turns out, is perilously close to a single, fleeting summer.

In my view, if I am honest with myself and paying attention, eternity can be found inside a June. Within a child's hand clasp. Echoed in a tea cup. All that I long for, wish for, dream of, has already happened, this I know.

In some far off starlit part of me that remains forever untouchable and true, eternity is happening now, and breathes within the tiny beating bud of even my fears and pain. It knows no boundaries, or Gregorian demarcation. It is patient. And full of music.

I see it flicker in my sons' eyes.

This gift of time.

And the moment I spot it, it is already gone, light years away, clean and immaculate.


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Gluten-Free Peanut Butter Cookies

Dunk worthy gluten-free peanut butter cookies with quinoa flakes.

Quinoa Flakes + Cookies = Perfect Match

You know how I feel about cookies (I've confessed my love before in my Ode to Cookies love fest, Gluten-Free Chocolate Chip Cookies).

Because a good cookie is no small thing.

Especially if you must live gluten-free. Double that if you must live dairy-free. And triple that if you live egg-free.

Holy Mother of Muffins, it ain't easy. 

The gluten-free wheat-free vegan lifestyle is a hefty, sometimes tortuous challenge. But the ugly truth is more and more of us are discovering we are not only blessed with celiac disease (yes, I use the word blessed ironically; you do remember irony, don't you, it got you through grade school) but we have the incredible fortune (more irony) to develop additional food sensitivities due to the insidious damage celiac disease wreaks on our innocent little villi, those dutiful nutrient grabbers who not only keep us well fed through proper absorption, they appear to be the first line of defense against the dreaded leaky gut syndrome that allows food proteins to invade intimate territory and cause serious mayhem with our immune system.

To read more about celiac disease and its new found dangers, I urge you to read this article by Dr. Mark Hyman on Huffington Post: Gluten: What You Don't Know Might Kill You. Yes, I know, serious bummer of a title, but Babycakes, do read it, because celiac disease is dead serious stuff. And it is vastly under diagnosed.

Millions are suffering various nagging (and often awkward) symptoms. Needlessly.

That, Dearheart, is scary.

Good thing we have cookies.

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Pumpkin Quinoa Cookies - For Breakfast?

Pumpkin cookies with quinoa flakes. Like oatmeal- but better.

Karina's Pumpkin Quinoa Cookies - For breakfast?

Dear Reader (yes, Babycakes, I'm talking to you)- you know how I feel about you, right? I'm crazy about you. I read your kind and thoughtful comments on Facebook. I am humbled by your generous,  warm and giving e-mails (I save them). 

Your feedback and support keeps me going and inspires me.

I started this whole crazy blogging adventure back in a village on Cape Cod famous for quaint. One of those slow paced leafy communities with whitewashed churches and a town grist mill. Salt weathered shingles and white picket fences and roses in June. You know, historic. Beachy. The magical stuff of regional painters and windswept poets prone to melancholy.

Then an empty nest ignited the urge for going and my husband and I moved west to the rural high desert of New Mexico where the cobalt beauty of an oceanic sky met the hot iron of isolation and a certain individual's proclivity toward brittle bones. My broken hip changed my body forever.

Four years later (relocated to Los Angeles) I am profoundly grateful to live by the ocean again. I am wrestling with new ideas and facing certain limitations (still waiting for Margaret Mead's promise of zest). Days are often a stew of conflicting realities, losses and gains stirred so close together they emulsify.

There are days I feel thirty and days I feel eighty. Sometimes in the same single moment. 

Forgive my habitual drift into philosophical territory here, but here's the thing. A growing, deepening awareness of how little we actually control has sparked my need to surrender. And shake loose some assumptions. Including the perception of Other (risking a messy and complicated expansion of the heart, the awareness of Yeah, I am that too). Which startles you with a sharp clean view of what is valuable and true. 

What is bare bones rock bottom important.

Important not in some airy-fairy New Agey or even dyed-in-the-wool religious way. I chafe inside any system and its man-made rules (key word: man-made). I'm old enough now to look back upon decades with an estrogen-free seasoned eye. I see the need behind belief. I see the old paradigm. I see why people judge and separate, critique and belittle. I see the reason why unruly concepts are snipped down to size and labeled and tucked safely into rehearsed little packages of fear whisked with a pinch of faith. The Ego rules. And the Ego loves conflict.

I also see the powerful few doling out platitudes to the millions who struggle with so much less. And we are not blameless, either, we who are so willing to consume what masquerades as inclusion when it is anything but.

So here's the thing.

Before I share my recipe today, before I conjure words about cookies and yummy flavors and how much vanilla to beat into the dough, allow me some food for thought, if you will.

We are all given moments of grace.

Far too many of these moments are missed, floating by the fuzzy edges of momentum, a stream of invisible assumptions. And needs. Life guarantees change, but really, what else? Opportunity (what are you going to do with what you've got?). Choice. Self explanatory, right? We cut a swath of choices every single day. Trivial choices (would you like whipped cream on that?). And loaded choices (some requiring nothing less than moral courage to execute). Each and every choice spins us off in a direction, a trajectory with consequences.

And what I am coming to realize, even cherish, now more than ever, is this. The choices boil down to a choice between love (connection) or fear (separation). So what will you choose today?

Think about it.

As for me?

I vote for love.

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Chocolate Quinoa Brownies- Gluten-Free and Vegan

Vegan gluten-free brownies made with quinoa flakes.

Your stubborn and chocolate obsessed gluten-free goddess has been working overtime. In between shooting photographs of the holiday lights and skaters in Santa Monica and battling the return of the flu I fought off some weeks ago (I believe in recycling, Darling, but this is a wee bit ridiculous) I have been utterly possessed. Haunted by the ghost of chocolate brownies. Vegan chocolate brownies, to be exact (because I've already served up the best egg-based gluten-free brownie I can think of, so if you haven't tried my Dark Chocolate Brownie recipe or the Chocolate Brownie made with pecan meal, Darling- Go!).

Baking failures do not sit pretty with yours truly. Especially when I am achy and voiceless and my head feels like a giant damp wad of gluten-free dough with too much xanthan gum added (you gluten-free bakers know exactly what I'm talking about). I feel like the goddess of sticky, thick and dull. And there ain't no cure. Except maybe a hot toddy. Or three.

Lucky for me I have a husband who likes to bake. A husband who says (as his brittle, grumpy hot-flashing wife is muttering expletives and scraping another gooey not-in-a-good-way gluten-free vegan brownie failure into the perky polka dotted trash can), So. 

How can we make this work?

For a split second I panic and think, He's over it. He's finally tired of living gluten-free. Living without baguettes and bagels and croissants out of love, a sense of duty, or comradeship and support. 

He's done. Finished. He's out the door, no looking back.

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Karina's Gluten-Free Quinoa Breakfast Bars

Gluten-free quinoa breakfast bars, Baby.

Quinoa Breakfast Bars!

We were treatless this week. Specifically, breakfast treatless. No Pear Polenta Muffins were hiding in the freezer. No Apple Cake with Cranberries. In fact, the only food items in the freezer were a solo bottle of organic vodka and a bag of frozen cranberries (does vodka count as food?). Which turned out to be a good thing. Because we had to bake. [Had to!] So we experimented (send smooches to Steve for initiating said experiment; if it were not for him, Dear Reader, you'd be looking at an archived recipe today).

As the breakfast treats were baking I started thinking (always dangerous). I started pondering (even more dangerous) why certain people believe they have things AFO. All Figured Out. And they'll tell you so, of course, spooning out advice in words that taste metallic. Like teeth fillings. They have all the neat little answers for you, judged and predigested, wrapped snug in tidy psychic ribbons.

If only life were that simple.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not yearning for simple. 

I'm not six years old.
I can handle complicated. I can chew for hours on ideas that are tough and wiggly and mysterious, and arrive at no final conclusion whatsoever. I can sleep on it and wake up with nothing but songs and dreams in my head that will color the day with glimpses of what might be possible. I don't need to hammer the challenging and mysterious into a mold I can easily grasp so I can feel more comfortable in the world, believing it is fixed. So I can stop asking questions. So I can say, I have the answer.

I am, in fact, okay hanging in the tension of opposites.

I don't need only good, only pretty, only nice, only light, only clean, only sweet, only happy. And isn't that a valuable thing? Because the last time I checked the world was a mash-up of good and bad, beautiful and ugly, gentle and cruel, luminous and dark and cool and filthy and calm and angry and laughable and profoundly, deeply sad. And often, really ironic.

So here's the thing.

The older I get, the more I learn, the less certain I am. Of anything. I don't have all the answers. I don't always know what is best or what is true. And what is right for me may not be right for you. And what may be right for me today may be wrong for me tomorrow.

But one thing I do know?

There are places on this earth where you feel you belong. And places you will always feel like a stranger. An outsider. A tourist. There are places and people and days that grind you down. And harden you. And there are places and people and days that soften you. Soften your heart. And you know what?

I want that.

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Quinoa Muffins with Pecans

High protein quinoa flakes make this gluten-free muffin yum.

Not since my Quinoa Breakfast Cake recipe have I enjoyed a morning treat more. I am seriously digging these cute little quinoa beauties. I started out imagining a quinoa breakfast bar, an easy to-go treat that might fuel my morning walks on the beach (I've been walking three miles almost every day- which is a minor miracle, for those of you who remember the trippy Richard Gere incident). I wrote up a recipe I thought might create a higher protein snacking bar I could munch with my mug of Irish Breakfast Tea as I browse, bleary-eyed and yawning through the morning chirps over at Twitter.

But it became apparent rather quickly this batter was born to be muffins. I could just tell. It had that perfect stretchy je ne sais quoi that I knew deep down in my private tiny girl heart would urge the dark chocolate studded dollops of earthy quinoa goodness to rise into tender golden domes like champs.

So I followed my intuition and switched gears and veered into Muffin Land.

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Quinoa Breakfast Cake Recipe

Tender and moist quinoa breakfast cake- really delicious.

Start Your Day with Cake!

There are some days [okay, I confess!] I eat a brownie for breakfast. And not just a brownie. A tender, dark chocolaty coconut and brown sugar laced delectable gluten-free blondie style brownie. A brownie to delight in. A brownie to savor. A brownie even gluten-eaters would covet. And I lick my fingers. Is it a nutritious choice? Um, probably not.

Except as food for the soul.

And sometimes, let’s face it. The soul needs chocolate. For breakfast. But this morning there was a trendy new box of quinoa flakes perched on the kitchen counter. And a fresh bag of plump seedless raisins nearby. I leaned against the counter's edge and sipped my morning cup of English Breakfast tea. I started daydreaming about oatmeal cookies. Then carrot cake. Carrot raisin cookies. Molasses and cinnamon. I knew what I had to do. I had to bake.

Quinoa was calling to me.

Quinoa (pronounced keen-wa) is a fab ancient faux grain (it's actually a fruit seed) that is high in protein and naturally gluten-free, and lucky for cereal lovers, turns out it's a satisfying hot cereal choice, too.

Quinoa cereal flakes approximate quick-oats-style oatmeal in size and texture. The taste is different, though. More nutty. Kinda toasty. A tad unfamiliar. And it takes some getting used to. Bland as oatmeal, it is not. It has a definite personality.

Dress it up with maple syrup, chopped nuts, raisins or dried cherries. A sprinkle of cinnamon and brown sugar. You name it. Quinoa can handle it.

And I am here to tell you- the flakes are a tasty little number for baking. Different, yes. But once you nibble a second bite, and a third, and a fourth, you start thinking, Hey. This is good stuff! You break off a warm piece and ferry it across the saltillo tile floor to your script-typing husband and offer it with a smile.

You urge, Try this.

And he murmurs, Hmmm.

And you reassure him with, The second bite is better, and he interrupts and says, No, this is excellent. It’s different, but it’s good. Very good.

Yup. This particular gluten-free goddess couldn't agree more.

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