This post has been sponsored by King Soba, who make great gluten-free noodles and soups. We were compensated for our work.
Years ago, Dan and I sat in our car on the ferry, little Lucy asleep in her car seat behind us. We talked about the day, where we were headed, what we might eat.
Guess what? It’s Thanksgiving time again. When you’ve been gluten-free for awhile, you might have an arsenal of recipes you’ll make for Thanksgiving.
I’ve always been a lemon girl. Lemon gets my love all through the year, but especially in the darker months and moments of life, when I need its brightness.
I have been thinking for months about a quote I heard from the wonderful cellist and person, YoYo Ma: “I remember as a five-year-old, at an age when people begin asking children what they want to do when they grow up, I thought that what I really wanted to do was to understand.” In the last year, Dan and I have taking a long look at what we do and why we do it.
I still remember the moment I started this site. Ensconced in the little window nook of my Seattle apartment, I typed in www.blogspot.com.
The light is leaving the sky earlier these days. Our daughter goes out to play in the yard, barefoot, and comes in 5 minutes later complaining of the cold.
When we first moved into this house, Lucy was only 3. She turned 4 here a few months later, the party a spill of children in their swim suits and their hair floating out behind them as they ran, laughing.
This was the summer of blueberry pie around here. We’re big on peaches and blackberries, plums and strawberries too.
Around here, there’s only one refrain in the morning: “Can I have a peach, please?” The peaches are lovely and round, ripe and redolent.
These gluten-free blueberry waffles are a near constant in our house this summer. So easy for a big summer morning breakfast. Before I turned 50 last week, I had survived the normal amount of heartbreaks and disappointments, the way every human does.
Certain moments of my life, I couldn’t imagine ever turning 50. It seemed impossibly far away — and very much old — when I was a child and in my 20s.
Almost 20 years ago now, I sat in a darkened comedy club, watching my friend Sharon do a standup routine.
The longer I live on this sweet-sleepy full-of-opinions and people-who-want-to-be-hippies wacko rural island in the middle of Puget Sound, the more interested I am in what is happening here.
Do you remember loving cowboy cookies when you were a kid? But now that you have to be gluten-free and dairy-free, you think you will never eat them again?
I have to admit this: I’m a plain cake girl. While I feel a sort of awe for many-tiered cakes with smooth frosting swooped up toward the edges, I feel a bit tired when I look at them too.
For the past 11 years, and 10 of them with Dan, I have been posting recipes on this site. Together, we’ve created hundreds and hundreds of meals we love.
It’s hard to even know what to say this week. The shooting in Orlando has left us all speechless. (Except for the brilliant Lin-Manuel Miranda, whose acceptance speech in the form of a sonnet he wrote that day is about the only response that has resonated with me all week. He announced this morning that there are now t-shirts with part of that speech available for sale, with profits going to Equality Cares in Florida, to help the families of victims.) I’m going to restrain myself saying anything more about this, for the moment.
We live in a place I affectionally call Wacko Island. (It’s Vashon, actually.) This place in the middle of Puget Sound, only a 15-minute ferry ride away from Seattle, feels so far away to most mainlanders.
This is a sponsored post for Mission gluten-free flour tortillas. We eagerly said yes to this sponsorship, for which we have been paid.