Gluten-Free Blueberry Crumble-Crisp Recipe

Gluten-Free Goddess Blueberry Crumble-Crisp Recipe



It's no news to you, Darling, that summer is officially here. The longest day of the calendar year has come and gone- with June now a memory. And blueberries are shyly making their post solstice appearance in the northern states. The kindest season is far too brief. As the Bard of Avon once penned, Summer's lease hath all too short a date.

If you must skip to the recipe- do so now-- 
who am I to hold you back, to deny you even one more minute of partaking in this (rather modest) indulgence? But I confess, I am in a waxing mood today. And feeling lost in thought daydreams. Balancing opposites. I believe in the here and now (more than the promise of ever-after). Not that ever-after doesn't hold 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.



Karina's Zucchini Gratin

Gluten-Free Goddess Zucchini Gratin - vegan and dairy-free


The un-foodie truth is, I sometimes resent the fact that I have to stop what I am doing and eat. It interrupts my flow. My doing flow. My thinking flow. My reading flow. Cooking takes time. And energy. And a certain level of focus (if one wishes to avoid burning the last clove of garlic, anyway). Cooking takes planning. One has to remember to physically get to the market now and then (which requires driving, another activity preferably avoided, right up there with drafting grocery lists). Avoiding said planning, one can far too easily find oneself without a scrap of dark chocolate in the house.

Chocolate may be the primary reason I get to the grocery store at all.

Before I discovered I had celiac disease, I ate simply. I was a vegetarian. Food was no big whup. As long as I had a bag of brown rice in the pantry, I was golden. I stir-fried veggies. I bought French baguettes daily. I baked the occasional chocolate chip brownie. But I wasn't hyper-focused on every single morsel that went into my mouth. I was loose and free, and true, I cooked. But food was more of a natural expression of my life as an artist and a mother. Cooking was as organic as breathing, a creative thing that didn't require surgical precision. I cooked simple, down to earth food. The kids grew up well fed and acquainted with pasta and fresh basil, olive oil, pumpkin soup. And real mac and cheese. Today both sons are amazing, intuitive cooks.

But when celiac disease made its appearance (in vivid ways you don't want to know about, Sweetpea) it complicated everything. Spontaneity (my favorite trait) atrophied. My easy going relationship with food morphed into an anxious love-hate alliance. Yes, I rolled up my can-do sleeves and problem solved. I did. I was a good sport. I tackled gluten-free head on. And I've been churning out gluten-free recipes for ten years. And I tried dairy-free for four five seven years. I'm no slacker. But.

Some days?

I wish I was "normal". As in, I wish I could grab a crusty bakery baguette and a salty wedge of Parmigiano Reggiano for dinner. Like I used to. When making art was romantic and love was new.

Wishful thinking.

Which gets me nowhere.

Except back to the place I started.

Desire.


Peanut Butter Ice Cream with Coconut Milk


Peanut Butter Ice Cream, Baby.


It is sultry and steamy here. And, Babycakes, I am not cooking. I am not even boiling water for my habitual ritual of afternoon tea. I am sitting in front of a petite blue desk-top fan. Eating ice cream. Homemade ice cream, to be exact. With nary a trace of dairy or gluten. And apparently, it is the best homemade ice cream I have ever made (so says my ever willing, taste-testing husband).

Here's what I came up with.

You're welcome.

This is the ice cream maker we use- it's not an expensive, fancy machine; and it does a superb job if the mixture is very cold.

Gluten-Free Zucchini Bread - The Best Recipe

Gluten free zucchini bread

Sharing a favorite summer recipe here on Gluten-Free Goddess-- a cinnamon laced tea bread made with garden fresh zucchini. You'll love it.

And so will everyone else.

Now I'm off to read: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing --- Cheers!

GFG Tips on gluten-free bread baking:


Here's my all-time favorite baking pan for gluten-free breads. It's a lovely glazed ceramic pan that creates steady, even heating for gluten-free batters. In other words, it's as foolproof as you can get. Find it here at Amazon: Good Cook 9-Inch Ceramic Loaf Pan.

Make sure your batter isn't cold when you put it into the oven. If you keep your flours in the fridge, for instance, this will cool down your batter quite a bit.

If you find your batter is cooler than room temperature, allow the batter to rest in the pan near the pre-heating stove and let it come to room temperature before you place the bread pan in the oven to bake (I also do this with cakes sometimes).

The first time I tried making gluten-free zucchini bread I did not press the moisture out of the shredded zucchini and my loaf was a tad gummy in the middle from too much moisture. So pat those zucchini strands dry, Campers.

If you find your tea breads and cakes turning out gummy, or falling after baking, you may want to take your oven's temperature- some ovens never quite reach the proper temperature. You can combat this by baking longer, or upping the temp a bit. If the oven temp is not the issue, then start adding a tablespoon or two less liquid to your batters (you may live in a humid climate and your flours may be absorbing moisture; too much moisture can make for a gummy product).


Gluten-Free Blueberry Muffins (With Coconut Flour)

Warm gluten-free blueberry muffins from Karina, Gluten-Free Goddess



Baking a batch of fresh blueberry muffins is one of my favorite simple pleasures. 

I do it early, before the summer day turns sultry and my body slows to a liquid ballet of movement designed to conserve every last salty drop of intention and energy my creaky, vanilla lotioned body can muster. I rise and bake to the rosy morning sun, stirring my batter half asleep, sipping hot coffee. A northern mockingbird sings his deceit outside the kitchen window. He is remarkable in his uncanny repertoire, a gifted mimic, silhouetted high against a summer-blue sky, perched on the tallest utility pole.



Fresh organic blueberries, rinsed and ready for baking.



I've been reading this week. Finding books a provocative companion. Words that illuminate and poke. Shared stories that send shivers of recognition, trigger anger, or tug one's soul (kicking and whining) into that impossible place- that place where you don't want to go. The stuff that scares you. Because it might be true.

Reading a book about mothers and daughters at twenty is one thing. You bring to its wisdom your newly hatched self-hood, your fresh experience, your familial-infused expectations (and prejudices). The expectations, assumptions and dreams of a young woman. You are the heroine, the daughter starting out on your journey, looking at a long and winding road ahead. So you read. And listen. And play with ideas. You see what fits. And what doesn't.

And then you stand, decades later, stirring blueberry muffin batter on a cloudless morning. And here, now, the words ring deeper. And the truth stings darker. There is a lifetime of days spiraling out beneath you and above you (because by now you know that time is not linear, or finite, like a string of numbers across a calendar). And the same words vibrate with a different meaning, engraved with experience and regret. The same words illuminate as if from a different light source.

Not from the world.

From within you.

And so here I am. A daughter, still. Learning something old as if it is new. And discovering truths as if for the first time, arriving, as T. S. Elliot wrote, where we started. 





Frosted Carrot Cake Quinoa Bars

Frosted carrot quinoa bars- gluten-free

Gettin' Fancy.

My intrepid husband slash sous chef was craving a carrot cake style quinoa bar for a mid-morning snack. To be exact, he said, Hey. I'm craving a carrot cake style quinoa breakfast bar. You know. For breakfast. To which yours truly replied, Look who wants to get fancy. My chocolate chip quinoa breakfast bars aren't good enough for you? Now you need frosting?

To which said long suffering husband replied, Frosting makes everything better.

Who am I to argue with that?


Frosted carrot cake bars - gluten-free


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