"She eats gluten free."

The lovely Ingrid's nephew was telling his friend about her the other day and in describing his aunty to his little friend, Nathan described her as "eating gluten free."  Clearly if a 4 year old uses this descriptor, then it's kind of a big deal.

For those of us who are still gleefully (and thankfully) devouring bread, pastries, and practicing all sorts of gluten-laden gluttony, going gluten-free seems virtually unimaginable.  But the other day, I made a flourless chocolate cake, sans gluten, that made me think that if ever I had to practice non-gluten gluttony, that it might be survivable....

Flourless Chocolate Cake (adapted from Martha Stewart)

This is a Martha recipe and it does take a bit of work to create but the results are fabulous.  The cake isn't much to look at but it is decadent and delicious!

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for pan 8 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped
6 large eggs, separated
1/2 cup granulated sugar
Confectioners' sugar or Dutch-processed cocoa, for dusting
Sweetened whipped cream, for serving (optional)

Preheat the oven to 275 degrees with the rack in the center. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9-inch springform pan. Set aside.

Begin by beating the egg whites until soft peaks form.  Gradually add in the sugar and continue beating until you have glossy stiff peaks.  You really should use a stand mixture here.

Once you have that done, put the butter and chocolate in a large heatproof bowl and microwave it in 30-second increments (the first time you can do about a minute to a minute and a half) until it's completely melted.  Whisk in the egg yolks but let the chocolate butter mixture cool down a bit so you don't cook the yolks.  (The original recipe says to do this step first but I found that when I started with the chocolate mixture, by the time I had the whites beaten, the chocolate mixture had cooled and hardened, which then resulted in all sorts of shenanigans to get the whole things softened again without having the heat it in the microwave so as to not cook the yolks.)

At this point,  whisk 1/4 of the egg whites into the chocolate mixture; then gently fold in remaining egg whites. 

Pour batter into the prepared pan, and smooth the top with a rubber spatula. Bake until the cake pulls away from the sides of the pan and is set in the center, 45 to 50 minutes. Cool completely on a wire rack; remove sides of pan. Serve at room temperature, dusted with confectioners' sugar or since I didn't have any, I used cocoa powder, which was also nice. Serve with whipped cream, if desired.

A Comic Warning to Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May

It's that time of the year when people tend to take stock and exclaim, "I can't believe it's almost 20--!" or in my case, "I can't believe it's not 1998!"  When we begin a new year, for the first few weeks for some strange reason, I tend to revert back to the 90s when writing dates.  Clearly I have issues but apparently I'm not the only one as this meme clearly shows:

I can't believe there's even a FB page centered around that sentiment.  Ahem!  The following poems encourage us not to put off that trip you've been meaning to take, the call you've been meaning to make, the issue you've been wanting to take care of, to take notice of the beauty around us, because you just never know what might happen.  Instead, let's "kiss the earth & be joyful/ & make much of your time/ & be kindly to everyone/ even to those who do not deserve it" (and believe you me that last one is hard!) and enter 2012 without all those shoulda/woulda/coulda's.

Notice

This evening, the sturdy Levi's

I wore every day for over a year

& which seemed to the end

in perfect condition,

suddenly tore.

How or why I don't know,

but there it was: a big rip at the crotch.

A month ago my friend Nick

walked off a racquetball court,

showered,

got into this street clothes,

& halfway home collapsed & died.

Take heed, you who read this,

& drop to your knees now & again

like the poet Christopher Smart,

& kiss the earth & be joyful,

& make much of your time,

& be kindly to everyone,

even to those who do not deserve it.

For although you may not believe

it will happen,

you too will one day be gone,

I, whose Levi's ripped at the crotch

for no reason,

assure you that such is the case.

Pass it on.

--Steve Kowit, from The Dumbbell Nebula (2000)

Picnic, Lightning

"My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when I was three."--Lolita

It is possible to be struck by a meteor
or a single-engine plane
while reading in a chair at home.
Safes drop from rooftops
and flatten the odd pedestrian
mostly within the panels of the comics,
but still, we know it is possible,
as well as the flash of summer lightning,
the thermos toppling over,
spilling out onto the grass.
And we know the message
can be delivered from within.
The heart, no valentine,
decides to quit after lunch,
the power shut off like a switch,
or a tiny dark ship is unmoored
into the flow of the body's rivers,
the brain a monastery,
defenseless on the shore.
This is what I think about
when I shovel compost
into a wheelbarrow,
and when I fill the long flower boxes,
then press into rows
the limp roots of red impatiens--
the instant hand of Death
always ready to burst forth
from the sleeve of his voluminous cloak.
Then the soil is full of marvels,
bits of leaf like flakes off a fresco,
red-brown pine needles, a beetle quick
to burrow back under the loam.
Then the wheelbarrow is a wilder blue,
the clouds a brighter white,
and all I hear is the rasp of the steel edge
against a round stone,
the small plants singing
with lifted faces, and the click
of the sundial

as one hour sweeps into the next.
--Billy Collins, Picnic, Lightning (1998)

The Last of the Fresh from the Farm

Here in Seattle, autumn and winter are doing their final dance together, trying to decide whose turn it is to lead and switching around just when I think I've figured it out.  We still get a few gorgeous, pale sunshiney days but the drizzly wet stuff is definitely making itself known.  There's a chill in the air, and I saw frost on the grass today; all signs that winter is coming.  Ah, well, at least I can look forward to hunkering down and building up my winter fat stores as my evolutionary instincts compel me to by eating all those hearty stews, participating in hot pot parties, and doing some baking! 

To bid adieu to the season of harvest, here are the last of the fall harvest from the last few months:

Gorgeous flowers from the Grandmother's Garden Mix, especially the Cosmos with their bright happy pink faces, stand out against the colors of fall.  The rainbow chard love the cooler wet weather and grow big and glossy leaves, perfect for stews and stir fries.  The last of fingerling potatoes have been dug up for now though I've realized that once you've planted potatoes, you'll usually continue to get them since they're impossible to dig up completely.

The last of the summer tomatoes are also harvested along with fresh-tasting apples.  For those tomatoes that haven't had a chance to ripen before the cold weather returns, pulling them out by the roots and hanging them upside down in the garage will allow the nutrients to continue ripening the fruit.  Or if you get a chance before pulling them up, put some rotten tomatoes next to the green ones and they emit some ethylene gas that gets their green brothers to mature.

The following is Thom's Ginger Apple Bread Recipe, for those extra delicious apples abundant everywhere this time of year.  Trust me, it's good!

Ginger Apple Bread

4 cups baking apples coarsely grated (3-4 depending on size)
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cardamon
1/2 cup butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup toasted walnuts
1/2 cup chopped candied ginger (optional)
1/2 cup raisins

 Begin by preheating the oven to 350 degrees.  Season the grated apples with the cinnamon, ginger, and cardamon and set aside.  Cream together the butter and sugars until fluffy.  Then mix the eggs in one at a time and add the vanilla.  In a separate bowl, combine the flour, salt, and baking soda and sift.  Add the dry mixture to the wet in two batches, being careful not to overmix.  Scrape into a greased and floured 9x13 pan* and bake for 45 minutes or until a toothpick comes out of the center clean.  It's fall in bread form!  Enjoy!

*I decided to put my batter into a loaf pan instead and had enough batter left to make several muffins as well.  The muffins were done after about 35 minutes and the loaf took about 55 minutes. 

Batter My Heart, Three-Person'd God

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;

That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend

Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

I, like an usurp'd town to another due,

Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;

Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,

But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,

But am betroth'd unto your enemy;

Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,

Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. 

--John Donne, Holy Sonnets