I love chocolate cake! There. I said it. Or, wrote it. Typed it? Anyway, it’s out there. Of course, just about anyone who knows me, knows this about me. So, while most people lament the loss of bread when they have to go on gluten free diet, not me. I was going to miss chocolate cake. Other sweets are ok, but chocolate cake is my favorite. I don’t even eat it that often. But the thought of never having it again was just so sad.
This last weekend, we went to my father-in-law’s place in Big Sur, CA. It is on top of one of the hills on the east side of highway 1. It is just beautiful up there. As you go up the driveway, you can just feel any stress you have leaving your body. That is why I am so disappointed that my memories of this place will be forever tainted with being gluten-ed there on Saturday night.
In my last post, I said that I was going to try the Red Borscht, again. But this time I was going to try to make a crockpot version of it. Well, here’s the thing. It seemed to take just as much time, and it didn’t quite turn out the same. It still tasted good. Just a little different. This one turned out a little more red, while the other one turned out a little more purple. See.
I am from Portland, Oregon. I love my hometown. It’s a wonderful place. It has a ton of beautiful green trees and colorful flowers thanks to all of the rain. It’s called the City of Roses for a very good reason. It also has fabulous food. In fact, I have recently found out that there is great gluten free food all over the place there. I really need to get into town and try some the next time I am up there. I, also, love how many galleries are all around. I miss First Thursdays. Gallery hopping and wine drinking all evening on the first Thursday of every month. Then there is my favorite: all of the professional sports teams. Oh, wait a second. Never mind.
I’m not even sure if I can trust my memory of what happened at the conference anymore, since it has been so long now. I want to start off by apologizing. I write a series of posts and lag behind on getting the finale up in a timely manner. I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a writer for “Lost.” I don’t think I have millions of people waiting with bated breath for this post, but I do want to be fair for those readers that I do have. So, my apologies. A lot of life stuff has happened to me since the last post. I promise if I ever have a series of posts again, I will have them all written ahead of time, so I can get them up quicker. Thank you for your patience.
So, away we go!
That was a great story, but why, oh why did I write about it?
Well, I really wanted to write about a recipe that I found on the internet and changed a little to fit our needs. The dish I made actually reminds me of the above dish, but I thought the story sounded much more interesting than: I was trying to find something to do with this chard I got in our Friday Farm Fresh produce box, so I surfed the web… I just thought that was too boring.
Anyway… I was trying to find something to do with this chard I got in our Friday Farm Fresh produce box, so I surfed the web…
I’m pretty good at cooking, too. I have my basic dishes that I make a lot, but they rock. And I am working on branching out to new things. Baking is another matter. I really like it, but I bake cookies. That’s about it. So why I chose a gluten-free, dairy-free cream-filled puffed pastry as my recipe for ‘Adopt a Gluten-Free Blogger’ is beyond me. What was I thinking?
My mother-in-law is half Irish. My father-in-law is also half Irish, which makes my husband half Irish. But this is about my mother-in-law. I have been with my husband for over 10 years, and almost every year on Saint Patrick’s Day, if we were in the same city as my mother-in-law, we would have corned [...]
I have such strong, fond memories of food. When I was little, I remember coming home from school and opening the door of my house to the smell of freshly baked chocolate cupcakes. The smell was so warm and enveloping. It would carry me down the hall and into the kitchen, where my mom was putting the last touches of icing on. She would be standing there in her apron with a tall glass of cold milk in one hand and a warm cupcake in the other. She’d have a huge smile on her face and ask me how my day was. O.K. Ummmmm… So right now, my mom is wondering who’s blog she accidentally clicked on or what strange, crazy drugs is her daughter taking.