Old loves

My ex was married yesterday.

And as I slogged through my Saturday chores of sweeping my floors, washing my towels, and dusting my furniture, I–for some masochistic reason–envisioned him straightening his bow tie, admiring his bride, and embarking on his honeymoon . . . .

And then I relived the honeymoon of our own relationship–ended just a little more than a year ago–as I recalled his first admiring gaze across a P.F. Chang’s dinner table, our third date to a favorite Chinese carryout spot with tofu and crab pot stickers, and his first time cooking grilled cheese sandwiches for me.

In fact, almost every one of my favorite dishes and restaurants evokes a memory of him.

But he wasn’t the one who came to mind yesterday as I made my favorite new breakfast . . . and brunch . . . and, sometimes, late-night dinner.

Instead, this dish evoked memories of cold nights spent cooking in my warm, cozy kitchen with my new boyfriend. He’d been the first person–since my father, who used to fry up the family’s Saturday morning breakfasts–to make me French toast.

The thick fluffy slices, dusted in powdered sugar and drenched in real maple syrup, proved even better than my father’s so long ago. And unlike his, these were gluten free.

Udi’s gluten-free breads, available in a white sandwich variety and a faux whole-wheat “whole-grain” version sold in nonspecialty local grocery stores such as Dominick’s, have given me back countless pre-Celiac bread-based meals, including breakfasts of toast and Welch’s grape jelly, lunches of imitation Quiznos veggie sandwiches (more on these later), and now, late-night dinners of omelets and French toast.

And during those late-night dinners, my boyfriend gave me–an egg-scrambling, omelet-frying failure–yet another gift: the recipe.

7 to 8 slices of Udi’s white sandwich gluten-free bread

3 eggs

about 1/4 cup of milk or cream

dash of vanilla

generous sprinkling of cinnamon

1 to 3 tablespoons of unsalted butter

various toppings (powdered sugar, maple syrup, sliced strawberries, oranges, and/or bananas)

If bread is frozen, microwave it until soft. Then whisk together eggs, milk or cream, vanilla, and cinnamon. Dip both sides of each bread slice in egg mixture and fry in unsalted butter until slices are browned on both sides.

Then top with sugar, syrup, or fruit, and share with a new–or old–love.

Loving life

February 14, 1995.

That date, accompanied by my childish drawing of requisite hearts, is scrawled in the top corner of a crumpled notebook page tucked into a special photo album labeled “Andrea’s Recipes.”

The recipe on that crushed page had languished among my collected scraps of food ideas for five years–ever since the move to my first apartment with its tiny kitchen promising countless nights of home-cooked meals. To prepare for them, I’d searched the corners of my mom’s spacious kitchen, where I’d found, buried within her old blue folder bulging with unused recipes dating back to the ’70s, this relic of the ’90s.

Those years had been consumed with the stomach-wrenching anxiety of my dad’s first fight with intestinal lymphoma. The diagnosis had left my family choking on our favorite simple meal, affectionately called “rice and sauce,” and then smiling wanly over subsequent casseroles donated by well-meaning church friends.

“Church cookbook,” my mom had appropriately noted as she’d taken down the recipe for the best of those numerous noodle casseroles. But perhaps its generous use of egg noodles–laden with gluten that was unknowingly feeding the cancer in my dad’s intestines–had somehow subconsciously deterred us, for we made the casserole only that one time on Valentine’s Day in 1995.

Now more than 15 years later, I finally returned to the dish this past month. After all, February seemed like the perfect time to celebrate my love for life–and for my dad’s–both made possible by gluten-free adaptations that, every so often, make dishes even tastier than their original versions.

So, based on that original recipe for chicken noodle casserole, here’s my vegetarian, gluten-free take on Rice Quorn Casserole.

2 cups uncooked jasmine rice
1 tsp. salt
3 cups water
1 and 1/2 cups frozen Quorn Chik’n Tenders (my new obsession–and the most authentic fake meat on the market)
Olive oil, garlic salt, black pepper, and dried basil
1 12-ounce package Pacific Natural Foods Organic Cream of Mushroom Condensed Soup
10 ounces frozen salted peas
1/2 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon cornstarch
5 to 7 Velveeta slices

Combine the first three ingredients, bring to a boil, and then simmer for about 15 minutes until rice absorbs water.

Meanwhile, in a nonstick pan, season Chik’n Tenders generously with garlic salt, pepper, and dried basil, and fry in olive oil until slightly brown.

In a separate bowl, whisk together mushroom soup, cornstarch, milk, and peas. Then combine all ingredients in a medium-sized casserole dish, top with Velveeta slices, cook for about 25 to 30 minutes, and enjoy this comforting Quorn casserole.

It’s sure to be love–whether or not it’s Valentine’s Day.

Stolen sandwiches

“Do you want to go out to eat?”

My answer to that question is almost always “yes.”

Sure, I usually decline my family’s invitation to dine at The Clubhouse, given their bland flavorings and limited gluten-free menu (featuring some admittedly rich mashed potatoes and delicate gluten-free buns), and I often reject my mom’s pleas to join her at Egg’lectic Cafe, given their paltry gluten-free selection and painful reminders of now-forbidden breakfast favorites (Banana Bread French Toast, anyone?), but I’m always eager to meet my brother at Chipotle or join my best friend at Honey.

After all, Honey has reliably satisfied my comfort-food cravings with their “not-just-grilled-cheese sandwich” for months.

But lately, the recipe has changed: a gummy new gluten-free bread forms the sandwich’s base, and an increasing amount of grease saturates each slice.

With a loaf of my favorite Prairie Bread from Whole Foods, however, I’ve stolen—or, rather, adjusted—Honey’s amazing recipe to create an even better homemade grilled cheese.

2 tablespoons of olive oil
2 slices of Whole Foods’ Prairie Bread, thawed
2 teaspoons of Trader Joe’s Pesto Alla Genovese
Several thin slices of Trader Joe’s Raw Milk White Cheddar
1 slice of tomato
1 handful of baby arugula

In a nonstick skillet, fry the bread in the olive oil until slightly browned. Coat one side of each slice with pesto, add the cheese, press the sandwich together, and cover the pan to melt the cheese. Insert the tomato slice and arugula and fry uncovered to wilt the arugula slightly. Then enjoy a restaurant-quality lunch or dinner—without even going out to eat!

Tofu-burger stir-fry

I just received an excessively early renewal notice for Glamour magazine.

And I made a mental note to consider cancelling the remaining time on my subscription.

Not only do I already have too large a pile of waiting-to-be-read magazines (and other recently read ones partially responsible for my long absence on this blog!), but I detest Glamour’s new focus on reader-driven content. “I want advice from experts! And well-crafted first-person essays from thoughtful writers!” I’ve mourned while enduring yet another list of patched-together paragraphs solicited from myriad “regular” women.

So I reminded myself to support only the best in the foundering magazine business when I heard, a few weeks ago, about the demise of Gourmet—a magazine I’d always perused in the grocery-store checkout line but never given my full attention. I’m unsure of the magazine’s policies on reader- vs. expert-driven content, but I’m assuming a commitment to the latter since I encountered a link—on, of all places, a food blog—to this impassioned article by my PBS favorite Christopher Kimball.

The America’s Test Kitchen host blames the death of Gourmet on the growth of food blogs. And then, in his final two paragraphs, he eloquently illustrates the main reason for my initial hesitation about entering the blogosphere. “Google ‘broccoli casserole,'” he challenges New York Times readers, “and make the first recipe you find. I guarantee it will be disappointing. The world needs fewer opinions and more thoughtful expertise. . . .”

So, in honor of the expertise of America’s Test Kitchen and my own continuing uneasiness with the instant “publication” of amateurs’ writing via the Internet, I’m posting one of my first self-developed gluten-free recipes with this disclaimer: I am an amateur “cook-er.” I tried this recipe four times, but I never felt complete satisfaction with the inconsistent results. Yet still I found the dish delicious. And, as hoped and anticipated, it reminded me of my pre-gluten-free favorite takeout order from a special nearby spot called Jin’s China.

2 Trader Joe’s Organic Tofu Veggie Burgers

10–15 snow peas

1 and 1/2 handfuls of carrot chips, cut lengthwise

4–5 white cabbage leaves, torn into large pieces

3 cloves of garlic, minced

1 cup of uncooked rice

Boil the snow peas, carrots, and cabbage in water seasoned with garlic salt. In a separate pot, add 2 and 1/2 cups of water and 1/4 teaspoon of salt to the rice and bring to a boil; then reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes or until finished.

In a nonstick frying pan, saute the garlic in a generous amount of olive oil. When the vegetables are soft, add them to the garlic and continue sauteing. Then chop each veggie burger into approximately nine pieces and add to the pan. Add more oil, as well as a dash of the leftover water from the vegetables, if needed. Season with a generous amount of garlic salt.

(My boyfriend, quite unlike me, found the veggie burgers in need of a dousing in San-J Tamari Sauce. In previous “tests” of this recipe, I did try that soy sauce substitute, as well as dashes of vegetable stock, honey, and cornstarch. I returned to the garlic salt alone, however, for I believe it to be a wonderfully subtle complement—unlike the overpowering tamari—to the harmonious flavor of these veggie burgers. In fact, I’ve reread the simple list of ingredients—tofu, sunflower or canola oil, yellow onion, carrot, kale, tapioca starch, sea salt, and garlic powder—countless times as I’ve tried to discern the secret to these amazing concoctions.)

Allow the ingredients to simmer and the vegetables to absorb flavor from the burgers. Spoon rice into two bowls, top with the vegetable/burger stir-fry, and enjoy an expertly written article from a favorite magazine subscription. (May I suggest Marie Claire?)

Prima pasta

I’m an Italian.

No, I don’t possess swarthy skin, I don’t speak Dante’s language, and I don’t think I’ll ever visit my father’s homeland, but I do love pasta.

In fact, my favorite dinner after a long day at work used to comprise angel hair pasta, a touch of olive oil, and grated parmesan cheese—all devoured directly from the pot during one of my many beloved, addicting television shows.

I haven’t enjoyed that meal, however, since I started my gluten-free diet. No acceptable pasta seems able to hide its nonwheat identity with the scant dressings of my favorite at-home conconction.

Nevertheless, with a few cloves of garlic, a generous portion of tomato sauce, a heap of parmesan cheese, and a sprig of basil, some delicious replacements have emerged. So here are my selections for the three best gluten-free dried pastas.

1. Mrs. Leeper’s rice spaghetti: I took a risk on this spaghetti a few weeks ago when I was rushing through my local grocery store and searching for an easy date-night dinner. “I’m not sure if this pasta is going to be any good,” I warned my boyfriend. After all, its corn-based rotelli relative, never again purchased after disappointing me on my first foray into gluten-free nearly two years ago, had hardly recommended this spaghetti.

But the ultra-slender stalks beneath the clear packaging beckoned to me. And although they, like all gluten-free varieties, required the accompaniment of a hearty tomato sauce (I’ve recently been partial to Prego) and parmesan cheese, these noodles, the thinnest of any gluten-free pasta in my experience, proved deliciously close to real angel hair.

2. Trader Joe’s organic brown rice spaghetti: I shouldn’t have been surprised to find these packages, marked with that familiar little g, in the pasta aisle at the gluten-free friendly Trader Joe’s. But, a creature of habit, I’d already picked my go-to gluten-free pasta, and I’d never even considered the existence of other brands. In fact, such shopping around seemed equivalent to cheating!

How ironic, then, that a spur-of-the-moment fling led me to such a stable, dependable, matter-of-fact specimen. This unremarkableness is actually an incredibly desirable trait in a gluten-free pasta. Not too sticky, not too slimy, not too soft, not too hard, not too tasteful, not too tasteless—this pasta was simply, normally, wonderfully pasta.

3. Tinkyada brown rice lasagna noodles and brown rice spirals: I may have new lovers, but I still want to be friends with this, until recently, undisputed favorite. These spirals dazzled in several date-night preparations of a beloved baked pasta dish including sauce, black olive slices, and parmesan, topped with melted mozzarella cheese. And even recently, these lasagna noodles slipped beautifully into place in both my traditional layered dish and the delectable new spirals. In fact, the depth in the rice flavor may have even improved my old wheat-noodle lasagna recipe.

But this staple also disappointed: the undercooked elbows once rendered my attempt at a macaroni salad inedible, and the thick, gummy spirals sometimes naggingly reminded me of my diet limitations. So I imposed some of my own limits on this mostly dependable brand.

And in these classifications and evaluations and, finally, revelations, I’ve rediscovered the joy of eating—and being—Italian.