All posts filed under: Recipes

gluten free cake with cherries and rhubarb

gluten-free cherry rhubarb cake with buttery, crunchy pecan crumble

Do you say pee-can or puh-kahn? Growing up in the Midwest, it was always the latter. Then, I moved to Georgia and started working at a few farmers markets. I found myself settling into a subtle Southern drawl (to this day, I still greet most folks with a cheerful “hi, y’all”). With the territory, and probably also thanks to the peach and pecan farmers down the way, I started saying “pee-can”. I still say it this way. It’s a hard habit to shake. The pecans I used in this recipe, like the pronunciation, are all the way from Georgia. I bought a huge bag at the farmers market last year and squirreled them away in my freezer. I couldn’t bear to part with them so, like the squid ink, these nuts made the 2,600-mile trip across the country with us. I have a confession. I had never eaten rhubarb before creating this recipe. Its appearance was always so fleeting, and I never spotted it at farmers markets in Atlanta. Even if I had seen it, …

salmon patties with aioli

salmon potato patties with horseradish and chive aioli

There’s a longstanding argument in my family: whether salmon patties should or should not (and, also, do or do not) include onions. (Spoilers: Mine do. Sorry Dad.) The argument dates back, I think, to when my grandparents were first dating. My grandfather was a southern boy and to him salmon patties required just two ingredients: salmon and saltine crackers. The first time my great-grandmother invited him to dinner, she crafted an elaborate but comforting meal including macaroni and cheese and salmon patties. Salmon patties with onions. My mother and father have been arguing, playfully, for years. My father is adamant that there are no onions in salmon patties. My mother, who makes them, contends with absolutely certainty that she does, in fact, put onion in the patties. When I first started cooking, I made an elaborate version of salmon patties with lime zest, dill and scallions. After going gluten-free, I couldn’t make the traditional patty held together with saltine crackers and dusted in all purpose flour. I discovered that mashed potatoes made an excellent binder …

beet bundt cakes with ginger beer

pretty in pink beet and ginger beer bundt cakes

Happy Easter! After making my winter vegetable poached chicken, I had an abundance of beets. What do you do with an abundance of beets? So, I baked the beets into bundt cakes. Here’s the thing about beets. We have a love/hate relationship. I love them for their earthy sweetness, their abundance of vitamins and minerals, and their versatility. (Craig does not share this love, which makes cooking and eating beets on the reg a bit difficult.) But, I also have to be in the mood for beets. And, unfortunately, that’s not a mood I experience often. I like beets best in juice or smoothies. All the flavor and nutritional benefits, without much mess or fuss. Their natural sweetness, combined with that gorgeous color, made me think they’d be perfect in a pretty pink baked good celebrating spring. I used a seasonal flavor, Honeycrisp-Fennel, of Rachel’s Ginger Beer, a local company. I thought the licorice notes of the fennel would pair well with the beets in this recipe, but it’s not necessary if you can’t get …

roasted sunchoke soup

roasted sunchoke soup with white beans, labneh and chives

Sometimes, you just need soup. Even with spring on the horizon and a warm blush in the air, we still have rainy, windy, chilly days here in Seattle. Those days are soup days. One late night last week, long after most folks had eaten and were sinking in to watch prime time television, Craig and I were instead standing in the kitchen hovering over this soup, passing spoons and ideas back and forth. He has an incredible palate. His job demands it. I trust his opinion on flavors, balance and texture immeasurably, especially when it comes to creating gluten-free counterparts to common gluten recipes like pies, biscuits and baked goods. So there we stood, warming the soup, and stirring in some garam masala, preserved lemon, and grated ginger. I love this collaboration. Lab…what? Labneh is a strained yogurt, similar to Greek yogurt but even more thick. It’s rich and tangy and balances the warmth and nuttiness of the sunchokes. I found a sheep’s milk variety at the farmers market, but it can easily be substituted …

bleu cheese biscuits with bacon

bacon, bleu cheese and parsley biscuits

This is what I ate for dinner last night. (And, if we’re being totally honest with each other, I also had one for breakfast. Drizzled with honey, as if there wasn’t enough going on in there already. So. Good.) I didn’t mean to have just biscuits for dinner. I made them to go with a big batch of soup that I’ll share with you later this week. But these biscuits. They’re soft and fluffy and studded with bacon, so hearty and filling all on their own. Growing up, biscuits were not a thing. Pillsbury Grands at large family meals, sure. But for breakfast or brunch, I was always much more fond of plate-sized pancakes or Belgian waffles. Craig, still a Southern boy at heart, is a big fan of biscuits. He tears them into pieces and smothers them in gravy. For years I struggled to craft a good gluten-free biscuit that was fluffy but not gummy, moist but still crumbly in that buttery-flaky kind of way. I’ve lost count of how many batches of dissatisfying, …

cucumber kimchi fried rice with shiitake mushrooms and perpetual spinach

Spring has arrived in Seattle. Every week on one of my days off, I walk the mile or so to Pike Place Market. Usually to pick up some groceries, but often just for the exercise and to wander. And sometimes to visit Coffee & A Specialty Bakery, an entirely gluten-free bakery offering the most incredible pastries. (This week I indulged with a pineapple topped mini brioche and a tender vanilla madeline.) Spring weather in Seattle is scattered. Sunshine gives way quickly to rain, and just as quickly in reverse. From our apartment, we can see the block where blue skies are cut off by the gray, where the wall of rain starts. On Tuesday, I walked under a canopy of sunshine and managed to make it home with just a few sprinkles of rain falling. I try to change up my route on these walks. Sometimes I’ll take 1st Avenue all the way down, or Elliott or Western. Sometimes weaving up and down the hilly side streets to avoid construction or a conglomeration of tourists. …

pan-roasted pastured pork chops with brussels sprouts, butterball potatoes and a bacon-sage brown butter drizzle

The Butterballs were highly recommended. Not turkeys. Potatoes. Yellow, waxy and crisp with a delightful buttery-nutty flavored flesh from Olsen Farms. We saw them one Sunday at Ballard Farmers Market, but passed them up in favor of the classic red-skinned (Craig’s favorite). After one of his colleague’s recommended them, we filled a paper sack full at the following week’s market, after digging through their igloo cooler to find two matching pastured sirloin pork chops. The first pastured pork chop I ever made I overcooked. A lot. It was mid-July in Atlanta and hot. The sticky, humid hot of a bright Southern summer. Craig and I were visiting Grant Park Farmers Market for the first time, weaving through the thick throngs of people, filling up our bags with the bounty of summer. I made a peach pie that weekend with margarita jelly from One Screw Loose, and a thick ketchup from three pounds of the juiciest, heaviest heirloom tomatoes. The woman from Riverview Farms who sold us the chops that weekend told us we should cook …

winter vegetable poached whole chicken

There is something really special, sacred even, about Sundays. Whether you consider it the first or last day of your week, Sunday is a beautiful in-between moment to shake off the days before while preparing for and breathing life into the the ahead. Growing up, Sundays were for Mom’s slow cooked pot roast invigorating the entire house with its warm, hearty and comforting scent. In the fall and winter months, Sunday was also for Dad’s chili, his secret-sauce garlic buttered bread, and football. Sundays were also for homework, tackling loads of laundry, chores and even working. Over the last few years, I’ve tried to slow down on Sundays. Relax, reset, and soak up the time. While slowing down and savoring, I also try to prepare for the week ahead. I started a new almost-weekly tradition of roasting a whole chicken and throwing the bones together with vegetables to make broth or stock that would sustain us through the week with soups, stews, or even for sipping as a gentle breakfast. I have this rule. I …

creamy parsnip grits with lion’s mane mushrooms and andouille sausage

This dish is like Donny and Marie. It features a little bit of where I came from and a little bit from where I am now. (A little bit country, and a little bit rock and roll, if you will.) The stone-ground cornmeal is from Riverview Farms in GA, and came with me across the country. I bought it late last summer when I was craving cornbread. I made a big batch of that, studded with fresh corn kernels, in my cast iron skillet. It was in Georgia, too, that I first discovered lion’s mane mushrooms. These Tribble lookalikes are adorable, as any fluffy living creature could be, soft but sturdy and meaty, with a delicate seafood-like flavor. Since I no longer live near the gulf, and thus have less local access to fresh shrimp, I dusted the mushrooms with Old Bay and used them in place of the seafood to play with this traditional Southern dish. I didn’t grow up eating oatmeal or porridge, so it was in Georgia where I first tasted and then …

squid ink pizza

squid ink pizza with homemade ricotta, smoked salmon and a lemony brussels sprouts salad

Salty. Like the sea. Craig was standing behind me, watching as I prepared potatoes for dinner. Red skins scrubbed, diced and in a pot covered with cold water. Set on the stove, I sprinkled in a generous pinch of salt. “You use more salt than I do.” I turned to look at him. Salty, I said. You want the water to taste salty like the sea. The squid ink was a gift to him for Valentine’s Day, with a hand-crank pasta machine. And then the jar sat, intimidating in its dark simplicity, in our refrigerator. It was the one thing from our fridge that traveled with us across the country when we moved from Atlanta to Seattle. The ink is the darkest black I’ve ever known. It’s too difficult to describe the darkness in that jar, other than to simply say it was inky. Even that is a misnomer. It was thick, thicker than I was really anticipating. I thought of the ink in a pen but this is viscous, like molasses but less sticky, …