There’s nothing like being on the road. Green hills beside you, flat black pavement stretched out in front of you.
Years ago now, Danny and I were driving around in the dark. We had just fallen in love a couple of months before.
Holy sh-t. Our cookbook, Gluten-Free Girl Every Day, was nominated for the James Beard awards this morning.
When Danny and I spent our honeymoon in Italy (man, was that really 7 years ago?), I was happily shocked to find that nearly every farmacia in Umbria stocked gluten-free pastas, breads, and chocolate croissants.
It was a peculiar moment in San Francisco when my online life met my real life. Thanks to a visit with our friend Steve who works there, I was at Twitter headquarters, writing on Twitter about being at Twitter.
During our California road trip, after our stay in Sacramento, the three of us drove to Napa. Eating extraordinary meals in one of the best places for food I know reminded me of the beginning again.
It’s always the light I notice first. We left Seattle in the middle of a February rainstorm, the only time that Seattle looks the way you imagine Seattle to look.
When people bemoan the fact that they can’t eat gluten, I like to remind them about chocolate. We still have chocolate.
We’re off on another adventure. And we’d love to meet you along the way. As many of you might remember, we spent much of September in a minivan, driving around New England, holding potlucks and meeting so many of you lovely people.
There’s brown on the ground, brown on the barks of the trees, and no green on bare trees yet. Sure, we’re lucky to live in a place with plenty of firs, whose branches look like long green arms.
As you might know, we’re big fans of the good folks at Bob’s Red Mill. When we decided we wanted to create our own ad network for this site, working closely with companies we truly love, Bob’s Red Mill was the first company we approached.
Just as I reached for another bite of this pickled red cabbage (with pickled red carrots mingled in there), I had a memory.
I’ve never been much of a football fan. Oh, when I was in the 9th grade, the quarterback of my high school football team was a lean beautiful boy who threw tight spirals down a long green field.
When we were on our New England potluck road trip tour in New England this fall, we were happy to bring food gifts with us for the people who attended.
I’m a little strange, I know, but I actually prefer winter salads to summer ones. Sure, summer salads are glorious, with tender greens I can pull from the garden and walk in the door towards a cherry vinaigrette Danny just made with cherries he pulled from our tree.
She’s just past one, so summer sunshine is falling on her and her high chair. Her face is all joy: eyes closed, mouth open (no teeth on the top yet!
Yesterday, we held an event at our kitchen studio, the first public event in that space. We had been looking forward to it for quite awhile.
The other night, as we sat around the dinner table eating pork chops and mushrooms, our daughter looked down at her plate and stopped talking for a moment.
I’m typing this as I sit by the side of a pool. You might think I’m in the warm sunlight, an open book on my lap, a fruity drink with a tiny umbrella by my side.
On weekends, we feature the work of our sponsors, who are often the small companies making good food right.