Jennifer Esposito calls out CBS and I make tacos

Lest I fall into the same pattern as the shops around town, I made sure to make my mother a gluten-free dinner that didn't have to be made with exceptions or substitutions.  It's not hard to find a cake or cookie suitable for a gluten-free lifestyle in Tesco or M&S; this is not to say that they are all tasty!  However, it's much harder to find a decent loaf of bread.  Considering all the foods that have "hidden" gluten -- meaning, not just bread -- it's more important that we can eat dinner than dessert!

As I watch my mother struggle with her new lifestyle, I realise how lucky I was to have supportive folks around me as I worked my way through the changes.  I did it very much alone in the sense that I didn't know anyone who could give me advice or show me the ropes, but I did have my husband (while he was still on the way to being my husband) and our families for moral support.

All these thoughts were piqued today when I read this article: Blue Bloods' Jennifer Esposito Departs Show, Slams CBS For Its 'Shameful Behavior'.  I don't know this actress (I mean, I've seen her in things) or anyone else on the show or in the network, so I can't speak to what truly happened.  However, her words "[...] CBS implied that I was not truly ill [...]" struck such a chord with me.  I know most Celiacs don't like to actually say "Celiac Disease" because it sounds so terrible like that.  However, it IS a disease, and it is something that requires actual treatment and consideration.  Some people think that, just because the most-known treatment is not eating particular food that it's not as bad as other diseases.  You don't hear people saying the same about Diabetes, which also involves a specific diet as a major form of treatment.  While, like I said, I don't know for a fact that CBS acted terribly, her phrasing makes it sounds real.  It is something that happens, and it shouldn't.

Anyway, so, in an effort to support my mother through the process and show her that real food is within reach, I made tacos.  Tacos have long been one of her favourite meals, but removing both beef and gluten from her diet have made the concept of making them unappealing for her.  What follows isn't really a recipe for tacos as much as it is just a chronicle of the meal.

I made tortillas with masa harina (OH! That is what was in the mystery jar! Mystery solved!), water, and sea salt in my tortilla press. I fried them without oil in a cast iron skillet and kept them warm until everything else was prepared.  I battered the chicken lightly in a seasoned corn meal and pan fried.  It was served with lettuce, cheese, sour cream, and salsa (I decided against the salsa because of my recent surgery).  It was a great send-off for my mother's last meal in Belfast (this time!).

Always forward, just sometimes with cheesecake

Sydney likes breathing!  My surgery has come and gone, and I'm definitely on the path to recovering well.  I had the last of the things intruding into my face removed on Monday, and now I just have to let it do what it's meant to do.  In the meantime, I'm learning about breathing through my nose -- which should be a reflex but isn't anymore after years of disuse.

One of the great things about the surgery was that my mother was able to come and look after me.  I didn't know in what way she would be helpful, but she definitely was.  She did the majority of the cooking and cleaning, allowing CB to go to work without guilt.  I used what energy I had to pursue what I felt like was a a very noble goal:

Make Mum feel less crap about living gluten-free

I wanted to show her that, while not always easy -- especially not in places like Belfast or rural Georgia -- a gluten-free life doesn't have to be completely depressing. A couple of months ago, Mum had to undergo a battery of allergy tests, completely changing the way she lives her life.  Unfortunately, but, I'm sure, not coincidentally, many of the things she's been told to remove from her diet are the very things I've removed after years of trial and error.  The biggies: gluten and beef.

Since I wasn't quite up to my standard, I instructed her on making those pumpkin cupcakes I do so adore.  Before she arrived, I also whipped up a favourite I perfected last year: pumpkin cheesecake.  (Can you tell it's autumn, and I've gotten a pumpkin from the market?)

My mother was quite like me about pumpkin before I'd tried it.  I remember thinking I hated pumpkin because I didn't care for a lot of other squashes. I'd never even carved a pumpkin until I was 16.  I got the flu when I was in college, and a friend sent over muffins to cheer me up.  I had no idea what they were.  From a box, she said, and frosting from a can.  Yeah, but what flavour?  It absolutely blew my mind to discover they were pumpkin.

It wasn't until I moved to Northern Ireland that I started craving pumpkin.  I think it was a response to knowing I wasn't in America but REALLY starting to feel it.  Unfortunately, pumpkins are only available in the month of October here, so I missed out the first time around for not recognizing my craving soon enough.  Last year, after having lost another piece of my Americanness by marrying a Northern Irish man, I grabbed hold to as many pumpkins as I could, and the pumpkin cheesecake is one of the results.

I didn't get any beautiful pictures because it was gone that fast.

Pumpkin Cheesecake

Ingredients:

24 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
1 3/4 cups pureed pumpkin
3 eggs + 1 egg yolk
1/4 cups sour cream
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (separated into 2 halves)
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 tablespoons gluten-free all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 3/4 cups gluten-free graham cracker or digestive biscuit crumbs
3 tablespoons light brown sugar
1 stick salted butter, melted

Hardware:
oven
springform pan
flexible spatula
Ruby (or mixer, or strong arms)
mixing bowl (2 if you don't use a mixer)
wooden spoon
measuring cups and spoons
egg separator (not necessary, but I just got a new one that I adore)

Directions:
Pre-heat oven to 350°F/175°C.

In a bowl, combine the graham cracker crumbs, brown sugar, melted butter, and 1/2 teaspoon of the cinnamon.  Press the mixture into the bottom of your springform pan.

Using a mixer or your wooden spoon, whip the cream cheese by itself until it gets shinier.  There's not really a perfect thing to say to look for.  You want it smooth. Add the pumpkin puree, eggs, egg yolk, sour cream, sugar, remaining cinnamon, and nutmeg.  Mix together until combined.  Add in the flour and vanilla extract.  Make sure everything looks uniform.

Lumps aren't a good idea.  I made one where I found there was a bit of unmixed cream cheese at the bottom of the bowl; I threw it on the top of the cheesecake, thinking it would all melt in together.  WRONG.  I had white lumps of no flavour in the finished product.  Though, I will admit that I like to leave some of the pumpkin a little chunky, sometimes.  This gives you a cheese with a little extra texture and bit of a fruity bite.  If you don't like that, don't do that.  If you're using canned pumpkin, you don't have much choice there.

Pour the mixture over the crumb base. Gently tap it on the countertop to remove any big air bubbles.  If you don't, they will find their ways to the top and create big, burnt, air-filled lumps on the surface.  Bake for 55-60 minutes.  When it is completed, leave it to cool at room temperature for 20 minutes before covering with cling film (or a large plate if it's more handy) and moving it to the refrigerator for 4 hours.  At this point, remove the sides of the springform and either leave it on the base or put it on a cake stand or plate or whatever you have around.  I don't like to leave it on the base because, when I slice through the cheesecake, I don't want to knick the coating of the pan.

When serving, I like to make it look fancy with a light dusting of icing sugar (powdered sugar) or cinnamon . . . or an icing sugar/cinnamon mix! . . . and a dollop of whipped cream on the top.

Give it to someone who doesn't like pumpkin.

Best Friends Forever

We are finally settling into the new house, just in time for everything to go topsy-turvy pretty soon.  I'm having what I refer to as my "nose job" in 11 days.  I know, I know, I can hear you already. "But, Sydney! You have the perfect nose! You have the nose every girl dreams about when she thinks of her fairy tale future!  Tons of women take pictures of you when they go to have nose jobs!"  Well, you can calm down.  It's okay.  The outside of my nose shouldn't change at all.

It's the inside that is getting a makeover!  Ever since I was very tiny (Mum, care to chime in with specifics?), I've had chronic sinusitis and difficulty breathing at even the best of times.  Well, sometime last year (I'm being coy.  I know exactly when.), my nose stopped and never started again.  Antibiotic after antibiotic (which I hate -- almost as much as excessive parenthetical comments!), nasal spray after nasal spray, nothing.  Doctors, scans, doctors not calling back, unfruitful follow-ups, and finally!  Someone decides that something needs to be done!  So, in 11 days, I'll be having three procedures inside my nose -- 1) removing two bits of bone that are making passageways too narrow; 2) realigning my party wall, which meets the bottom of my nose in exactly the right place but bends in the middle; 3) cauterizing the lumpy lining of my nostrils that prevents anything from draining down the right paths.  You see why I just say I'm having a nose job?!

One of the most exciting things about my nose job is: If you think Sydney Likes Food now, just wait until she can actually taste it!

Regardless, the house is coming together beautifully, if slowly.  I've been cooking, but it's been mainly old standbys that don't take too long.  We're still acclimating to the schedule change; CB has never had a full time job!  He did do his PhD, which was definitely more than a full time job, but it typically involved him hunching over a desk in his home office/spare room/chinchilla abode.  This job requires him to be out of the house for more than 10 hours a day, and I have to figure out what to do with myself in the empty space.  (If I'm honest, it's mostly academic for me, now, too.  I should be grading papers right now.)  I did make one new meal that was delicious, but the texture needs a little tweaking, as does my understanding of the new ovens.  I'm going to give it a shot again this week, so, if all goes well, I'll photograph and properly document it here soon.

Ah, yes, but the title of the post.  I have a new kitchen friend.  I feel like I have known this friend forever because of how long I have wanted -- nay, needed! -- it amongst my tools.  I will never let it go.  We will make so many yummy things together.  You just wait.

Meet Ruby:

One lie about cupcakes and one curiosity fulfilled

As I mentioned in my last post, CB got a job.  We have started and ended house-hunting, and, for those of you crossing your fingers for me, I got a great kitchen and a yarn room that I don't have to share (except with this spoiled rotten little gem).

Until we move in, I'm basically chronicling thoughts and meals, which, admittedly, isn't the most interesting way to keep a food blog.  Every time I think about getting into creative mode in the kitchen, I'm confronted with the idea that this is not-my-kitchen and these are not-my-things.  So, back to CB got a job, and we looked at houses.

The day that he found out he had gotten the job, I decided he needed a little something of recognition. I spoil him, I do.  I secretly arranged with the woman who made our wedding cake to make a tiny congratulations cake for him.  The best part of her cakes is that not only are they tasty, but they have little clay figurines on top.  I dare say more people commented on how good our little figures looked on the big day than commented on how good we looked!

The reason I mention the cake, besides just being very tickled by it, is that The Little Cupcake Cafe is one of the few places in Belfast to get a decent gluten-free treat.  I had already arranged with CB's mother to help me pick up the cake, but it was turning into a logistical nightmare to try to get it without him knowing.  Thus, the little white cupcake lie.

Ah, yes, the sunny days of house-hunting.  While the rain was holding off, we decided a constructive use of our time was to simply take a taxi to a nice neighbourhood and walk until our feet fell off.  We made notes of real estate agencies and houses that looked pleasant.  We walked, got a little sunburned, and ended up with just about nothing once we looked up the prices.  We kept fairly good moods, considering the poor luck we were having.

Until Cake Day.

We were well across town from the shop, and I declared that I wanted a cupcake.  An hour later, it escalated to my needing a cupcake.  Another hour and CB was simply refusing me a cupcake.  Never mind that we were too far away for either of us to do anything about it.  By the end of our house search, I said that I was going to get a cupcake because his mother wouldn't like to hear of his refusing me a simple pleasure; she would surely drive me to get one.  She played along brilliantly, feigning exasperation at her son and immediately driving to the only shop which could provide me with what I wanted.

We sat down for a cup of tea and a cupcake.  Cathy, the fondant artiste, silently showed me the cake and placed it behind the till.  I managed to signal to the girl working the counter that I was to pay for the cake while asking for a glass of water; she casually slipped my change on the counter and walked away, enjoying the bit of espionage.

As we were standing to leave, I said to CB, "That box behind the till says 'Burke'.  Do you think it's for us?"
CB: "Burke is a common name.  I'm sure it's not."
Me: "But it could be?"
CB's Mum: "Did you buy Sydney a box of cupcakes?!"
CB: "No, let's leave." (getting a bit embarrassed by now)
I peek behind the till.  "But, it has MY name on it."
CB: "Sure it does."
I am handed the box.  "Look, it does!"  I open the box and all is revealed.  I thought he was going to hit the floor with shock.  After he eyes up the little figure of himself, I add: "I didn't even want a cupcake."

Less sneaky but equally as exciting (for me. Only me.) was the idea of eating on our short trip to Dublin.  As a thank you present for helping him with the application and interview preparation for his job (and probably for constantly stating how much I believe in him), CB bought two tickets to see Oscar Wilde's A Woman of No Importance in the Gate Theatre in Dublin. [Go!  See it!  Bring a wee hand fan because it is boiling inside!]  We already had our mind set on where to eat dinner before the show, but we still had an opening for lunch the next day.  CB sent me a link with gluten-free possibilities to browse, and there it was.  The restaurant that had managed to slip my mind that I used to obsess over visiting.

Cornucopia.

It was somehow a hundred times better than I even imagined it.  We got there just before the major lunch crowd, so we got a table just as we got our food.  By crowd I mean that the queue was completely out the door, and people were sharing every little corner of tables just to be able to eat.  The menu is a set of blackboards behind the counter.  Not everything is gluten-free, but everything is vegetarian.  There was a legend hanging above the blackboard explaining what was egg-free, gluten-free, nut-free, chili-free, vegan, etc.  It truly felt empowering not to have to ask what was in something before I ordered.  I am aware that that last statement will sound completely alien to anyone without dietary restrictions, but I felt like I owned the place when I ordered my food.

THIS was the amazing, empowered meal I had.  Curry and rice with sweet potato, carrot, chickpea, fine beans, and broccoli; kidney bean, tofu, and rocket salad; and a garlic and almond potato salad.  100% vegan, 100% gluten-free, 100% giddy-inducing.  Eat there.  Just do it.