How to Leave in 24 Hours

Packing

On the way to Santa Fe you get a phone call. It's for your husband. You overhear snippets and wait patiently. There is interest in another script. Real interest. Driving talk turns on a dime from the grocery list (where you just added butternut squash in bumpy cursive) to the wisdom vs. craziness of dropping the day's plans and booking a flight to LAX. You sit quietly in the hot car, squinting at the blur of sunbaked sage along the highway while your husband thinks it over (and inside you are jumping, yelling, Why not? Let's go! This is everything you've dreamed of- script meetings, casting conversations- but, really, it's his call). You do your best to embody Zen detachment.

What do you think? he turns and asks. 

You just smile. He knows what you think. You've been bitching about being under-stimulated for weeks, getting all gloomy again. Then suddenly it's a go. You're leaving in twenty-four hours. You start picking through dirty jeans and shirts. Distracted by the early morning slant of sun warming the tumbleweeds, you leave the laundry to grab a camera. Five minutes later you notice the bowl of ripe tomatoes on the blue tiled counter. You can't just leave those. So you wash them gently, slice and toss them into a roasting pan with olive oil, herbs and cloves of garlic. You add a splash of balsamic vinegar. You slide the pan into a low-heat oven.


Tomatoes for slow roasting


The house starts to smell like an Italian villa. You fold and iron and fold. You plug in your iPod Shuffle and choose 250 songs (no Sting). You think about Santa Monica and the last time you saw your son, Colin. You add some of his songs to your mix. Then you notice the roses you photographed this week (they have seen better days). You empty the pitcher. You get distracted by the beauty of the dead petals and dried leaves against the white garbage bag. You grab your camera.


Dead Roses by Karina Allrich


You air out the luggage that has been in storage since May- sliding it into the bright afternoon sun (you'll have to tip it sideways later to scoot a frantic lizard back to his usual vertical perch on the adobe wall). You wonder if the tomatoes are done. It's been two hours. Or more. You peek into the oven and inhale the slow roasted garlicky dense tomato scent.

You try not to panic about what the heck you'll eat for the next week (staying at the one hotel where you could get a last minute reservation in your price range- there's no kitchenette, no microwave). You imagine bags of chips and jarred salsa dinners. You hope Real Food Daily will have choices that are gluten, soy, lemon, nut-blah blah blah- free. But you don't really care. Somehow it will all work out. Or maybe you're just deep in denial, you think to yourself. You breathe.

Then there's the last bit of autumn roasted green chile to think about. And half a bag of small gold potatoes. One big mother of a sweet potato. And one lonely uncooked organic burger. Might as well make a green chile stew before you hit the road.

So you heat some olive oil in a pot, toss in some chopped onion, garlic, and crumbled beef, and sprinkle said ingredients with cumin and chili powder and stir until browned, humming a K T Tunstall tune. You throw in cut up gold and sweet potatoes and the last of the chopped roasted green chile. You stir up some organic beef broth and pour it in. A dash of agave. You let the stew do its stew-y thing while you contemplate which pair of sneakers to wear on the plane- Rocket Dogs or Skechers? Tough call. You'll decide later.

There are toothbrushes and socks to be packed. But first, a glass of white table wine. Then a bowl of green chile stew.

This is the part of the movie when she looks at her husband sitting by the window, back lit by sweet light, and your chest aches in recognition. You see, the thing is, you always knew it. In your heart you just knew. Those movies everyone told you were fantasy? The on-screen or off-screen marriages that crackled with mutual admiration and no bullshit and you pined for that while those closest to you clucked in favor of sticking with your marital misery because - and I quote- No relationship is perfect and every marriage takes work?

Then why, Dear Reader- this time around, after twelve easy years- does it just keep getting easier? And life just gets more interesting? It's all about the risk. And trusting your gut. Whether it's making up a soup or reevaluating your career choice, or facing down familial opposition and sexual inertia because you actually believe in true love- it comes down to this. 

You have this minute. 

This second.

So. 

What are you going to do with it?



Beef + Mushroom Stuffed Acorn Squash

A hearty stuffed acorn squash recipe- comfort food for omnivores.


Yours truly has been stewing. Not in the culinary sense, Darling. I've been stewing about Sting, and how disappointed I am with the latest news (and Oy, the photo of him ducking his head, cringing in the back seat?) about him schtupping (okay, maybe he didn't actually schtup- who knows?-maybe he innocently indulged in some lap dances in a post-concert-suffering-from-exhaustion kinda way) at the exclusive brothel-slash-strip club Relax in Hamburg, Germany, while sans wife Trudie and his six children.

Whatever.


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Gluten-Free Goddess in Newsweek? Rock on.


We just returned from our weekly Saturday jaunt into Santa Fe- to shop at Whole Foods, Trader Joe's or Wild Oats, depending on our mood and our menu plans. Today's mini road trip was a tad more exciting than our usual gluten-free shopping extravaganza, however, because today we stopped by Borders and picked up a copy of the September 17th Newsweek magazine- the one featuring an excellent article on celiac disease, titled Waiter, Please Hold the Wheat by Anne Underwood.

Steve turned to page 62- to see if the buzz we'd heard was true (as I was busy fumbling in my over-stuffed shoulder bag trying to locate my reading glasses with no success). How cool is that? he said, pointing to the resource box and reading aloud, Browse more than 200 creative recipes and cooking tips from an experienced gluten-free chef.

Whoa, said I (ever the eloquent wordsmith). Pretty darn cool. Gluten-Free Goddess blog makes good.

Big congrats go to the chic and hard working Kelly Courson of CeliacChicks, the totally fab Heidi Collins, Alice Bast, and Vanessa Maltin of the National Foundation for Celiac Awareness, and Shauna James Ahern, author and blogger at Gluten Free Girl- all featured in the article, which by the way, Dear Reader is one of the better mainstream pieces on celiac disease this gluten-free goddess has read. And I'm not prejudiced. Really.

Pick one up and see for yourself.

Sunbutter Cookies


Here's an easy gluten-free cookie recipe made with sunflower butter- a post-modern peanut-free take on those retro peanut butter cookies your Aunt Lizzie used to make. You know, with those jars of Skippy peanut butter (or was it Jif?).

Instead of using traditional peanut butter in this recipe, I used sunflower butter, which has a golden nutty flavor not unlike peanut butter, but slightly different. Kinda like peanut butter's wacky and cute brother. You know, slightly nutty. Fun. Like a bright new bike.


And they taste so good you just might want some more. Now, please.


I adapted this recipe from a peanut butter cookie recipe (submitted by Erin Smith) to Beyond Rice Cakes, an easy, fun cookbook (especially for teens and students) by Vanessa Maltin, director of outreach and programming at the National Foundation for Celiac Awareness.



Sunbutter Cookies Recipe

These tasty nibbles are gluten-free, grain-free, milk-free, peanut-free and soy-free. Phew. Did I miss anything? Oh yeah. And they're tender-scrumptious.

1 cup cold natural sunflower butter
1 cup organic light brown sugar, packed
2 organic free-range eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon bourbon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking soda
A small pinch of sea salt, if the sunbutter is salt-free


See options below for add-in ideas.


Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Combine the sunflower butter, light brown sugar and beaten eggs in a mixing bowl. Add vanilla, baking soda and salt; mix well with a wooden spoon.

If the Sunbutter you use is too wet, your dough may end up being too loose. Add a tablespoon  or two of brown rice flour to the dough, if you need to.

Pull off pieces of the dough with oiled hands and roll into 1-inch balls. Place the balls on a foil-lined or parchment-lined baking sheet. Using a fork, press the balls slightly to make a criss-cross pattern- making the cookies roughly 1 1/2 inches. Note: If the dough is still not stiff enough to do this, wrap and refrigerate for an hour to stiffen the consistency.

    Place the baking sheet into the center of a preheated oven and bake for 9 to 10 minutes, until they are golden and set. They will be soft until they cool. Cool the sheet on a rack for a minute or two before removing the cookies to a cooling rack.


    This recipe- as is- makes about 12 cookies. If you add 1/3 cup of optional add-ins, it makes a few more. Or you could just make bigger cookies. Whatever makes you happy.


    Add-in Options:


    • Try raisins, as suggested by reader Tricia- thanks Tricia!
    • Semi-sweet chocolate chips, or gluten-free white chocolate chips.
    • Chopped walnuts, pecans, cashews or macadamia nuts.
    • How about pine nuts- for a more "grown-up" cookie?

    Notes:

    Reader Daisy reports- this recipe works without eggs; use your favorite egg replacer. She also mentions using these cookies crumbled as a crumb crust for cheese cake or pies. Hungry yet?


    Good Karma Meatloaf Pie with Dill Mashed Potato Crust

    Got leftover meatloaf? Make a shepherd's pie, Baby
     

    Yeah, I'll just say it. If you like comfort food you're gonna love this meatloaf pie recipe with a mashed gold potato crust. It's simple, hearty comfort food. Because I'm a home-style cook. I'm no chef. I know my way around a kitchen but eviscerating a chicken? No thanks. I've never been attracted to truffles. I could care less about honing my knife skills.

    My soul is built for comfort not for speed.


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    How To Make Roasted Green Chile Sauce

    Bags of Roasted Hatch Green Chiles recipe
    Fire roasted green chile, fresh from a roadside roaster.

    How to make a roasted green chile sauce New Mexico style? First you start with bags of fresh roasted Hatch chiles.

    The Fall Equinox is right around the corner. And in our small corner of the world that means only one thing- it's chile roasting time. New Mexicans are passionate about their state's most distinctive crop. Smoky, spicy and sweet all at once is the best way I can describe the complex flavor of New Mexican roasted chiles.

    Roasters are ubiquitous now- along the roadsides and in parking lots- stoking their fires outside Whole Foods and Walmart alike, turning barrels of fresh Hatch chiles over open flames. The aroma is enough to make you weep.

    With spicy chile happiness, that is.


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