Rhubarb Crisp with a twist...

I won't bore you with all of the details--ok, just a few--about why I have been away from my gluten free blog for so long. Let me simply say that it began last Fall with a little (ha!) bout H1N1 Flu, which led to pneumonia, which led to some awful side effects from an antibiotic, then more long term side effects, then came the holidays, and then blessed Spring, with much gardening and writing, while also making lots and lots of Art along the way. The long and short of it is that I will be posting on a more regular basis. So, "Hi there!" I'm back, experiencing once again, delusions of readership with my 1,448 all time page impressions. Since I have always loved whistling in the dark... here goes...

This afternoon I was faced with a difficult choice between making dinner or dessert. Since fresh delicious Rhubarb in the fridge just won't wait, dessert won! I have based this gluten free Rhubarb Crisp on a recipe from Mark Bittman.

We love the Bitten blog around here--my husband and I--and his ethical approach to cooking. His recipes are simple, straight forward, honest and delicious. He has a, not-much-ado-about-something, humility that we really like. I had so much fun converting, subverting and turning this one towards the gluten free side of the force. I strayed from the Cinnamon camp and have spiced it more like a chutney. I hope you enjoy it!

Filling:
about 6 cups of local Rhubarb (the tart smell always makes me smile) cut into 1/2 inch pieces.
1/4 cup Sugar (I used Organic Domino sugar)
1 Tbsp. organic Lemon juice
1 tsp. organic Lemon zest
1/8 tsp. mild Cayenne pepper--add more, if you like heat

Topping:
3/4 cup Dark Brown Sugar
1 cup rolled oats (Bob’s Red Mill certified Gluten Free Rolled Oats)
1/2 cup Brown Rice Flour (also Bob’s Red Mill)
1/2 cup Millet flour (Bob’s Red Mill yet again!)
Pinch of Salt
1 tsp. ground Coriander
1/2 tsp ground Garam Masala
1 cup organic Pecans
8 Tbsp. softened butter (I love Lurpak brand for its low water content)

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees. Grease an 8x12 inch Pyrex baking dish with butter. In a bowl toss the Rhubarb with Sugar, Lemon juice, Lemon zest, and Mild Cayenne pepper (make sure that the pepper is well spread to avoid hot spots!) spread into baking dish.

Put the 8 tablespoons Butter in a food processor along with Brown sugar, Millet and Brown Rice flours, Coriander, Garam Masala and Salt, pulse until it begins to clump together. Add Oats and Pecans and pulse a bit more until combined.

Crumble the topping over Rhubarb and bake until golden and beginning to brown, 45 to 50 minutes.

*eco note: use what is left of your lemon as a sponge to bleach your cutting board--it removes rhubarb stains-- and clean your sink. I never compost a lemon until it is completely used up.

Thanks so much for stopping by and have an ever so beautiful day!

*My husband Dave worked late--and missed dinner--every night this week, not getting home from the city before 9:00PM. This Rhubarb Crisp was a godsend, it was the perfect--not too sweet, not too rich--snack for him paired with some Nancy's Yogurt.

the memory of wheat...

old thinking by lucy meskill
the tyranny of cans
that lurk expired
at the back of cabinets
pushing forward
the scent of fear
like rotting carrots,
liquefied and brown
rising tidal from
the bottom of the bin;
remembrances
that live untouchable
under and behind
forcing joy like a jumper
onto a sliver of a ledge
like a jar of golden amber honey
that lurching under pressure,
falls out unexpectedly
and bruises our foot
when we open the door…

I'm cleaning cabinets today, beginning to take out, touch, sort and tend to the thousands of little things that own me. Cleaning the places that never get cleaned.

I'm thinking that it's time to change or at least wipe down with lemon or vinegar the shelves that house my glasses, dishes, pots, pans and utensils. I am certain that the crocks housing my wooden spoons, stainless utensils, cheese planes and the Lazy-Lucy pasta strainer need to be washed.



And how about the spice cabinet and jars that get handled with buttery or olive oil covered hands while I'm cooking. I'm standing in the middle of my kitchen, and everywhere there are things that I touch and move and use every single day that don't get cleaned nearly enough, although it seems to me that I'm always cleaning. Yup, I'm thinking " I work for all of my stuff as much as it works for me" I'm exhausted and I haven't even begun.

Here is the cabinet where I used to store wheat, all kinds of wheat. Wheat, the food I can no longer tolerate, is oddly enough, the yardstick by which I judge so much of what I now consume. Breads I bake: "almost as good as wheat" Pies and Cakes: "not nearly as good as wheat" Gluten-free store bought bread: "can't compete with wheat".

The striving of the gluten-free community to create "wheat like products" is frustrating. I want to let go of wheat, I want to get all primitive, revel in flat breads and interesting crumbly crackers and forget that "wheat the almighty", the symbol of hearth and home and hospitality, ever had a hold on me. I want to stop measuring my success by this thing that makes me feel so terribly ill.

I want to not feel the tug of gluten as I walk by a bakery in Manhattan. Lose the urge to bite into a crusty piece of French bread slathered in butter while slivers of crust fall like crisp rain. I know now how an addict really feels.

Today while cleaning my cabinets I would like to begin anew the purging of my wheat memory, that place where exaggerated and romantic images of thickened sauces, bread and pastries linger and entice. Today I will begin again to let go of wheat, one moment at a time...

Uncle George, the patron saint of little girls, songs and dishes...

As soon as you could reach the sink, while standing on a stool, you were doing dishes in my family.

Every night we girls (there were no boys), would gather around the sink; someone would wash, others would dry and yet others put away. A game we often played after the dishes were done, was to blindfold ourselves with napkins and try to identify herbs and spices and foods by their smell. This game held endless enchantment for me and helped hone my olfactory sense to a high pitch.

Holiday Celebrations in our home meant people (lots of people), laughing, eating, singing and an unbelievably huge mountain of dishes, pots, pans and glassware. We would face this mountainous, messy party hangover with much sadness and trepidation, that much I can tell you.

Unless, of course, my Uncle George was in town; after meals, he would gallop into the kitchen and banish all of us girls with the whisk of a dishtowel that cut the air like a sword. We would sit in the dining room and listen while he washed, dried and completely put away every dish, pot and glass. He would vanquish, nosily, the after-dinner-dragon, whistling the whole time. Georgie's whistling would then turn into singing and everyone would join in. I can still hear all of those beautiful voices crooning old Irish songs, wartime love songs and show tunes.

The next morning amid the bustle for coffee, toast, eggs and rolls, we girls could hear my mother muttering "Now where ever in the world did that man put my...." It always took my Mother days to sort out where my Uncle had stashed all of her favorite kitchen tools. We would smile knowingly and sip our coffee in silence.