gluten-free – Page 53 – GUTSy Performance Nutrition

Apricot Orange Tahini Porridge

February 19, 2014February 10, 2021by Rebecca1 Comment

There is a certain peace in morning rituals, in knowing every day is going to begin relatively the same. The same comforting breaking of a night’s fast, the same checking in on what is happening in the world. In the space of a week, there is the cyclic rush of getting out the door on those first five days and then settling in on weekends.

Shower, breakfast, listen to news, check email, out the door.
Run, breakfast, shower, listen to radio, out the door.
Strength train, breakfast, shower, listen to news, out the door.
Breakfast, browse internet, plan recipes, write or journal, settle in.

Merely variations of the same until the day has truly begun.

Listen to my breath. In. Out. Slow down. Each moment for a time. 
Morning rituals.

At work, when I’m not in a hurry, I drop my bags, stow my lunch, prepare the computer, put on the kettle for tea, and sit in relaxing silence with the steaming cup while catching up on early morning emails. I double check my day’s plan and lock my to-do list into a strategic hierarchy. This too, is a ritual. I’ve managed to keep it through more than a couple job changes.

The smell of porridge oats wafting up is a thing of great comfort. I’ve been eating them since I can remember eating, and they are essential in this routine. There are, habitually, minute shifts in the details of the porridge which are largely driven by the weather, the season, or waking up in a daringly adventurous mood. There are only odd days that the meal veers off to become muffins, muesli, waffles, egg tacos, or toast. Rarely, though, is the deviation dramatic or for any length of time.

“There are surprisingly few of these patterns of events in any one 
person’s way of life, perhaps no more than a dozen. Look at your own
life and you will find the same. It is shocking at first, to see that 
there are so few patterns of events open to me. Not that I want more 
of them. But when I see how very few of them there are, I begin to 
understand what huge effect these few patterns have on my life, on my 
capacity to live...”
 -Christopher Alexander

Every once in a while, I have an exact list of ingredients that I will pour in, as in this rich and creamy bowl of comfort. I’ve become obsessed with adding tahini since the weather turned last September. Originally, pears were the accompanying fruit that opted in on a daily basis. Like clockwork, I turn more heavily to citrus this time of year, perhaps as a way of desperately clammering for more light. Oranges and tahini pair beautifully anyway, and the addition of a small bit of dried apricots somehow ties the two together. Eating this, I can imagine being in a warm and sunny place where oranges are ripening on a tree. I am reminded, too, of summers past when those apricots were whole and sweet, and how the apricot trees are even now clamoring out of their winter slumber to begin the cycle anew.

Listen to my breath. In. Out. Slow down. Each moment for a time.

These visualizations, the slow bites and drawing in of breath before the day begins, are also part of my morning ritual. What is yours?

Apricot Orange Tahini Porridge, serves 1-2

1 1/2 cups water
1/8 tsp. salt
1/4 cup dried unsulphured apricots, diced
3/4 cup old-fashioned oats
1-2 Tbs. tahini
1 orange, thinly sliced and then diced
orange zest
1/2 tsp. orange blossom water, optional

On the stovetop, put a small saucepan to boil with water.
Once it comes to a boil, turn down to medium and stir in the salt, apricots, and oats. Let cook until it is soft and nearly all the water has been absorbed, about five minutes.
Turn off the heat and stir in the tahini, mashing it with your spoon until it is spread evenly throughout.
Take off the heat, and zest about 1/3 of an orange peel over the mixture. Stir in the orange blossom water and diced orange, including the juice from the cutting board.
Turn the whole mixture into a bowl and enjoy!

Autumn, Winter

Caramelized Onion, Kale, Squash & Bacon Pizza

January 22, 2014September 6, 2014by Rebecca5 Comments

Contrary to how much cured pork is on this blog, our meals are often light on meaty things. Bacon and its relatives do happen to show up in special dishes though, and this pizza, it is super special. The Recipe Redux folks asked us to share a healthy pizza recipe that we can all look forward to after a long week…or a long day. This gluten and dairy-free pizza is definitely worth coming home to.

Two years ago, I eliminated gluten. It was not as rough of transition as I had anticipated, except for pizza. Pizza has always been among my top three favorite foods, and W can eat it at least twice per week, indefinitely. We had an amazing pizza crust recipe, one that we had trialed and tailored so many times that it was loved more than any other pizza crust at even our favorite restaurants. It just so happens to contain a lot of wheat flour. When I received those test results back in January of 2012, and had cleaned out the cupboards and brought in new gluten-free flours, I quickly set to trying an array of pizza crust recipes. None of them were even remotely appetizing. They were difficult to roll, sticky, crunchy, and tasted like crackers. There was none of that bready texture that we wanted. Worse, we couldn’t find a better crust at any restaurant, even ones claiming to have an amazing gluten-free option!

Then came months of still not feeling well, and the frustrating news that dairy was a culprit too. Feeling defeated, I gave up on pizza for a while.

No longer. A few more months of experimentation paid off. We ate a lot of bad pizza in the process, but finally created the crust. And cheese? We have come to realize that when good toppings are loaded on, the cheese isn’t missed.

Really.

Now let’s talk about these toppings. This pizza involves acorn squash, lacinato kale, caramelized onions, honey, and a touch of bacon. It’s one of my favorite combinations. The caramelized onion forms an exquisite base in lieu of sauce, and with the slightly salty kale, squash and bacon, and with that drizzle of honey, the combination of sweet and salty creates a pizza that leaves us no longer missing the gluten and cheese.

Caramelized Onion, Kale, Squash & Bacon Pizza, (crust adapted from Kumquat)

A note about the crust: The ingredients below make enough for two 10-12″ crusts. Each pizza usually serves two to three. You can refrigerate the dough for the second crust up to two days. Due to the differences in the flours, I like to weigh them with a kitchen scale to get an accurate ratio of 70 percent whole grains and 30 percent starches. I’ve then put those weights into cups so it will be easier to measure without a scale, but if in doubt, I’d use a “short measurement,” rather than an overflowing cup.

1 large yellow onion, thinly sliced

1/2 Tbs. olive oil

1/2 a bunch of lacinato kale, chopped

Extra virgin olive oil

Salt

1/2 of an acorn squash, deseeded and chopped

3 slices thick-cut bacon, cooked and diced

1-2 Tbs. honey

1 1/2 Tbs. golden flax seed, ground

3 Tbs. hot water

40 grams (a short 1/2 cup) garbanzo & fava bean flour

80 grams (3/4 cup) brown rice flour

80 grams (3/4 cup) sorghum flour

80 grams (3/4 cup) millet flour

40 grams (1/4 cup + 2 Tbs. tapioca starch

40 grams (1/4 cup + 2 Tbs. arrowroot starch

40 grams (1/4 cup) potato starch

2 tsp. salt

2 1/4 tsp. active dry yeast

~2 Tbs. olive oil, separated

1 tsp. sugar

1 1/3 cup warm water, divided

Cornmeal

For the caramelized onion:

In a large saute pan, pour in olive oil and heat to medium high. Add onions and allow to cook until they are becoming soft. Add a good pinch of salt and turn down to medium, covered. Stir occasionally and turn down again, if they are cooking too high. They will take 30-45 minutes to become golden and soft, and caramelized. Remove from pan and set aside.

For the kale:

In the same pan as the onion was cooked in, add a small drizzle of olive oil and pour in the chopped kale. Add a good pinch of salt and cook just until slightly wilted. Remove from pan and set aside.

For the squash:

In the same pan as the onion and kale, add 1 Tbs. olive oil and squash. Cook over medium heat, just until the squash begins to soften slightly. Remove them from the pan and set aside.

For the pizza dough:

1.Combine flax seeds and 3 tablespoons very hot water in a small bowl until a slurry is formed; set aside.

2. Combine flour and salt in a large mixing bowl or bowl of a stand mixer. Combine yeast, 1 Tbs. olive oil, sugar and 1/2 cup warm water in a medium bowl or measuring cup. Allow to rest for 3 minutes for yeast to activate. Add yeast mixture to flour mixture; mix for 1 minute. Add flax seed slurry to the dough and a portion of the remaining water; mix until the dough comes together in a ball. If it is too dry, add enough water to for a tender, pliable dough. Set aside to rest for 1 hour.

3. Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Separate the dough into two equal portions. Sprinkle your pizza stone or baking sheet with a light sprinkling of cornmeal. Roll one of the dough portions out to desired thickness directly on a pizza stone or baking sheet.

4. Sprinkle the dough evenly with caramelized onion, followed by squash, then kale, bacon, and finish with a good drizzle of honey. Fold the crust edges in when done. Bake for about 16 minutes.

Winter

Pomegranate, Kale + Pancetta Spaghetti

January 5, 2014October 19, 2014by Rebecca2 Comments

“Go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows; at its source you will find the answer to the question of whether you must create. Accept that answer, just as it is given to you.”

– Letters to a Young Poet, Rainier Maria Rilke

The truth is, the beginning is blurry. When I squint back into the depths of my childhood, my thoughts were not long off of food. I would take cookbooks to bed at night, squinting into the flashlight-shadows, long after my sister had demanded I put our shared, bunk-bedded room into darkness. Looking back at the shy, quiet, anxious little person that I was then, I recall only that I felt most at home in the kitchen. I still do.

It began then, I think, with playdough. My mom mixed up homemade playdough. I remember seeing the recipe on a worn index card in her gray metal recipe box, a box that to this day holds her most cherished recipes. There were two recipes in that box that were beyond intriguing to my child-mind: elephant ears and playdough. The first was something that I had never considered could be made outside of a hot, steamy, trailer-kitchen at the county fair. The second was the only non-food recipe that I’ve ever known my mom to have on hand. I must have asked her, and she mixed up a batch for us. I don’t remember much after beyond the whirl of the mixer blades, and the fact that my mom brought me into the kitchen, handed me the measuring cups, and taught me fractions.

From that moment when I learned to turn on the mixer, to scoop flour into the measuring cups, to follow recipe instructions, up to now, nearly 20 years later, I’ve been most at home in any place surrounded by food. It fascinates me in its cultural symbolism, use as a socio-economic tool and weapon, as a draw to family gatherings and entire holiday celebrations, and, most importantly, in its most simple form as basic sustenance for the hunger in all of us.

In those simple childhood days, those most-remembered foods symbolize the dearly loved and oft-hated. My favorites from that gray box included our neighbor’s recipe for honey-cinnamon swirl rolls, my mom’s homemade bread, and leftover-oatmeal cookies with just the right amount of spice. There was my favorite breakfast, dad’s “stinkbug porridge”, which was a simple concoction of raisins and brown sugar. And then the fresh milk from our cow, Betsy, with flakes of cream floating amongst my morning cheerios. I had to plug my nose to get the milk down after staying an extra hour at the table gathering the resolve to drink it. Now looking back, I realize what a precious experience to have been raised in a place where our milk came right from the cow.

In this new year and new beginning of sorts, I am reminded of how I am drawn to food as a means of communication and connection. I am reminded of the beginning, how I learned in the kitchen with my mom and the whirl of the blender blades that are still in her cupboard today. I am reminded that food is special, and that when I go into myself, as Rilke suggests, the only answer I come back with is, yes, I must create.

Though I can no longer enjoy thick slices of my mom’s bread, or partake in flecks of cream floating in the cow’s milk, I hold in my heart and in my cooking a focus on good, simple, nourishing food, in whatever way it can be most enjoyed. I am looking forward to this year to come, and the creations it will bring.

Pomegranate, Kale & Pancetta Spaghetti, serves 3

Pomegranates have been often in our kitchen this winter, more than ever before. This creation happened spontaneously and naturally, out of ingredients we had on hand one evening. It will become a favorite, I’m thinking, in the many wintery days ahead. If you have not used pomegranate molasses, it can be found at a well-stocked grocery store, online, or you can make your own by reducing pomegranate juice in a sauce pan. Don’t leave it out in this dish; it will be missed.

6 oz. brown-rice spaghetti (or any type that you prefer)

4 oz. pancetta, diced

1 medium onion, chopped

1 large bunch kale, chopped (I prefer Tuscan but any type will do)

1/4 tsp. salt

3 Tbs. pomegranate molasses

1 Tbs. orange zest

seeds from one pomegranate

salt and black pepper, to taste

Cook the spaghetti according to package directions in a large pot.
While pasta is cooking, heat a large sauté pan to medium-high. Add pancetta and cook until almost done. Add the onion and continue to sauté until transculent, about 8 minutes.
When onion is very soft, add kale and cook down until wilted, about 5 minutes.
Drain spaghetti when cooked, and mix it into the kale and onion mixture.
Add salt, orange zest, and pomegranate molasses. Toss the pomegranate seeds on top and stir them in gently. Add additional salt and pepper to taste, and serve.