My Best Gluten-Free Apple Crisp

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

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.






Read more + get the recipe >>

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

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.






Read more + get the recipe >>

reade more... Résuméabuiyad

Gluten-Free Peach Crisp Recipe

Fabulous and peachy. Gluten-free peach crisp with oats.

As seasoned Gluten-Free Goddess® readers know, yours truly went egg-free in June 2007 (as well as dairy-free). Which complicated gluten-free baking just a tad. Browsing the recipe archives this morning, I found this amazing gluten-free peach crisp recipe- and got to relive the trials and tribulations of my fledgling gluten-free egg-free dairy-free baking. We've come a long way- all of us.

Time to re-share this wonderful summer dessert.

So climb into your time machine, campers. We're going back to the future. Sorta.

Your plucky gluten-free goddess at large has been conjuring egg-free disasters- one after another- in her tiny blue-tiled cocina. And tossing said disasters (affectionately known as drek) into the trash bin left and right, developing quite an aim despite her gloomy disposition.

She shoots- she scores!

In fact, the greenbacks spent on the alternative flours, gluten-free casein-free mixes, tiny allergen-free chocolate chips and organic bananas could have bought said Gluten-Free Goddess a lovely bottle of Lavanila Summer. The big bottle, not the purse size.

And by the way, don't believe what they tell you about subbing eggs with bananas in a chocolate recipe, Babycakes, unless you have a taste for tacky, gummy brownies that have a faint but distinct Eau de Baby Food top note.

But in every third act... there's a moment.

You know, that pregnant pause, where our bruised but glistening heroine turns- damp and tendrilled, emotionally raw, soy-free chocolate smears artfully adorning her noble apron- and tucks an errant wisp of hair behind her left ear as she squints into the radiating oven, inhales a whiff of cinnamon-laced peachy heaven and senses deep in her fragile loyal heart she's got a winner.

Cue music.

Darling, this summery vegan treat is so luscious your gluten-eating wiener-chomping friends will scrape their plates shiny clean and beg for more. They will. Promise.

So you may as well make two. One for them.

And one for you.

Read more + get the recipe >>

Fabulous and peachy. Gluten-free peach crisp with oats.

As seasoned Gluten-Free Goddess® readers know, yours truly went egg-free in June 2007 (as well as dairy-free). Which complicated gluten-free baking just a tad. Browsing the recipe archives this morning, I found this amazing gluten-free peach crisp recipe- and got to relive the trials and tribulations of my fledgling gluten-free egg-free dairy-free baking. We've come a long way- all of us.

Time to re-share this wonderful summer dessert.

So climb into your time machine, campers. We're going back to the future. Sorta.

Your plucky gluten-free goddess at large has been conjuring egg-free disasters- one after another- in her tiny blue-tiled cocina. And tossing said disasters (affectionately known as drek) into the trash bin left and right, developing quite an aim despite her gloomy disposition.

She shoots- she scores!

In fact, the greenbacks spent on the alternative flours, gluten-free casein-free mixes, tiny allergen-free chocolate chips and organic bananas could have bought said Gluten-Free Goddess a lovely bottle of Lavanila Summer. The big bottle, not the purse size.

And by the way, don't believe what they tell you about subbing eggs with bananas in a chocolate recipe, Babycakes, unless you have a taste for tacky, gummy brownies that have a faint but distinct Eau de Baby Food top note.

But in every third act... there's a moment.

You know, that pregnant pause, where our bruised but glistening heroine turns- damp and tendrilled, emotionally raw, soy-free chocolate smears artfully adorning her noble apron- and tucks an errant wisp of hair behind her left ear as she squints into the radiating oven, inhales a whiff of cinnamon-laced peachy heaven and senses deep in her fragile loyal heart she's got a winner.

Cue music.

Darling, this summery vegan treat is so luscious your gluten-eating wiener-chomping friends will scrape their plates shiny clean and beg for more. They will. Promise.

So you may as well make two. One for them.

And one for you.

Read more + get the recipe >>

reade more... Résuméabuiyad

Gluten-Free Strawberry Rhubarb Muffins with Cinnamon Streusel Topping

Strawberry rhubarb muffins with streusel- gluten-free and vegan.

Can't get enough of the classic spring pairing of strawberries and rhubarb? Me neither. So I baked a batch of muffins, dressed up to party with cinnamon streusel topping. These easy to toss together treats are tender pull-apart bites of grainy buckwheat sweetness studded with bits of tart rhubarb. A recipe perfect for brunch or afternoon tea.

Read more + get the recipe >>

Strawberry rhubarb muffins with streusel- gluten-free and vegan.

Can't get enough of the classic spring pairing of strawberries and rhubarb? Me neither. So I baked a batch of muffins, dressed up to party with cinnamon streusel topping. These easy to toss together treats are tender pull-apart bites of grainy buckwheat sweetness studded with bits of tart rhubarb. A recipe perfect for brunch or afternoon tea.

Read more + get the recipe >>

reade more... Résuméabuiyad

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.


Read more + get the 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.


Read more + get the recipe >>

reade more... Résuméabuiyad

Gluten-Free Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp-Crumble

Warm from the oven gluten-free crumble with quinoa flakes.

Let me faux you.

I've been a tad under the weather this week with a mysterious IBS attack (though I think I've uncovered the culprit- chicory also known as inulin- my nemesis) so I am mustering just enough energy to post one of my favorite springtime recipes.

A fabulous strawberry rhubarb crisp-crumble with a secret ingredient.

For you.

With love.

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. Jacaranda trees are budding violet-blue. In other words, picnic perfect.

I've been messing around with crisp and crumble dessert recipes this week, intent on creating an easy summertime dessert for backyard get-togethers and grill side dining. So 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 (not to mention, gluten-free oats can be problematic for sensitive celiacs).

We thought it was spectacular.


Read more + get the recipe >>

Warm from the oven gluten-free crumble with quinoa flakes.

Let me faux you.

I've been a tad under the weather this week with a mysterious IBS attack (though I think I've uncovered the culprit- chicory also known as inulin- my nemesis) so I am mustering just enough energy to post one of my favorite springtime recipes.

A fabulous strawberry rhubarb crisp-crumble with a secret ingredient.

For you.

With love.

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. Jacaranda trees are budding violet-blue. In other words, picnic perfect.

I've been messing around with crisp and crumble dessert recipes this week, intent on creating an easy summertime dessert for backyard get-togethers and grill side dining. So 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 (not to mention, gluten-free oats can be problematic for sensitive celiacs).

We thought it was spectacular.


Read more + get the recipe >>

reade more... Résuméabuiyad

Gluten-Free Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp

Gluten-free strawberry rhubarb crisp with a tangy twist.

Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp

When I was a little girl my favorite way to eat rhubarb was to snap off a stick in the back yard, run into the kitchen and dip the end into the sugar bowl, repeating the dipping process as needed to coat each tart and chewy bite with granular sweetness. In a post-Seinfeld world I risk being labeled a dreaded double dipper. And I admit up front, it's true.

I double dipped and triple dipped and lived to tell the tale.

Beyond childhood I never bothered much with rhubarb, except for tasting the occasional strawberry rhubarb crisp at someone else's family picnic. I was never much a fan of it cooked. Stewing and baking seemed to rob it of its charms, mocking my memory of those sugar coated crisp and sour stalks. The mush in the bottom of all those Pyrex baking pans was a sorry excuse for rhubarb, I thought. So recreating a rhubarb crisp recipe for living gluten-free was never glowing brightly on my cooking radar screen. It was never even the faintest of blips. I've been blogging for four rhubarb seasons now and haven't felt inspired to develop a recipe. Until now.

Why now, I've no idea. Perhaps it's because we're stuck out here in the desert, with nary a garden or bursting rhubarb patch in sight. Just rolling hills of crusty earth studded with brittle pinon and juniper trees, the oddball cholla, or tuft of tenacious sage. The words green and leafy don't exactly come to mind when you walk the dirt road to the arroyo.

So when I spotted a few lonely stalks of rhubarb in a basket at Whole Foods in Santa Fe- ruby red and sexy in their glistening rhubarb goodness- I thought, Why not attempt a strawberry rhubarb crisp recipe?

And because I'd asked myself out loud my husband said, You do realize you just asked three stalks of rhubarb if you should make them into a crisp?

Well, yeah, I shrugged back. I talk to my fruit.

Don't you?

Read more + get the recipe >>

Gluten-free strawberry rhubarb crisp with a tangy twist.

Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp

When I was a little girl my favorite way to eat rhubarb was to snap off a stick in the back yard, run into the kitchen and dip the end into the sugar bowl, repeating the dipping process as needed to coat each tart and chewy bite with granular sweetness. In a post-Seinfeld world I risk being labeled a dreaded double dipper. And I admit up front, it's true.

I double dipped and triple dipped and lived to tell the tale.

Beyond childhood I never bothered much with rhubarb, except for tasting the occasional strawberry rhubarb crisp at someone else's family picnic. I was never much a fan of it cooked. Stewing and baking seemed to rob it of its charms, mocking my memory of those sugar coated crisp and sour stalks. The mush in the bottom of all those Pyrex baking pans was a sorry excuse for rhubarb, I thought. So recreating a rhubarb crisp recipe for living gluten-free was never glowing brightly on my cooking radar screen. It was never even the faintest of blips. I've been blogging for four rhubarb seasons now and haven't felt inspired to develop a recipe. Until now.

Why now, I've no idea. Perhaps it's because we're stuck out here in the desert, with nary a garden or bursting rhubarb patch in sight. Just rolling hills of crusty earth studded with brittle pinon and juniper trees, the oddball cholla, or tuft of tenacious sage. The words green and leafy don't exactly come to mind when you walk the dirt road to the arroyo.

So when I spotted a few lonely stalks of rhubarb in a basket at Whole Foods in Santa Fe- ruby red and sexy in their glistening rhubarb goodness- I thought, Why not attempt a strawberry rhubarb crisp recipe?

And because I'd asked myself out loud my husband said, You do realize you just asked three stalks of rhubarb if you should make them into a crisp?

Well, yeah, I shrugged back. I talk to my fruit.

Don't you?

Read more + get the recipe >>

reade more... Résuméabuiyad