6:27 AM
cucuadam
Dette armbåndet fra Lindex Affordable Luxury-kolleksjon er på ønskelisten. Vi fikk en sniktitt på kolleksjonen igår, og jeg gleder meg til kolleksjonen kommer i salg 27.april.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Thursday, March 17, 2011
LUXURY LOVE
Dette armbåndet fra Lindex Affordable Luxury-kolleksjon er på ønskelisten. Vi fikk en sniktitt på kolleksjonen igår, og jeg gleder meg til kolleksjonen kommer i salg 27.april.Thursday, June 17, 2010
56 Things To Remember
On the eve of my last birthday I wrote a post- Fifty-five Things I've Learned in 55 Years. Well, Babycakes. June is here again. There's another candle on the gluten-free cake. And fifty-six things I want to talk about. Or more accurately, remember. To remind myself. Because at my age? Remembering is an art not a science. So write this down. It's important. You know what they say.
Here today gone mañana.
Read >>
56 Things To Remember
On the eve of my last birthday I wrote a post- Fifty-five Things I've Learned in 55 Years. Well, Babycakes. June is here again. There's another candle on the gluten-free cake. And fifty-six things I want to talk about. Or more accurately, remember. To remind myself. Because at my age? Remembering is an art not a science. So write this down. It's important. You know what they say.
Here today gone mañana.
Read >>
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Chocolate Sorbet- Vegan and Dairy-Free
 |
| Rich chocolate sorbet- without dairy. Pass the spoon. |
Two trends are sneaking in to recipe searches this week. The first? Super bowl recipes. You know, guy-style chicken chili and Crock-Pot crowd pleasers. Party food for the Big Game. Guacamole and hummus. Nachos. The second trend is a search closer to my own heart and its tender sensibilities. You may have already guessed it. Because you, Wonderful Reader, are smart, savvy and, well. Let's just gush a minute with appreciation. You are downright fabulous (with impeccable taste and discernment, I might add).
The second big trend is a search for romantic recipes and Valentine's Day inspiration. You're not surprised, are you? (See, I knew you were brilliant).
I'd much rather conjure up chocolate recipes than beans and burgers. Sexy food is more interesting than AstroTurf and lines of scrimmage and backfields in motion. And what the Hail Mary is a down, anyway? First down, fourth down. All these downs and off sides. It makes my head spin.
Chocolate Sorbet- Vegan and Dairy-Free
|
| Rich chocolate sorbet- without dairy. Pass the spoon. |
Two trends are sneaking in to recipe searches this week. The first? Super bowl recipes. You know, guy-style chicken chili and Crock-Pot crowd pleasers. Party food for the Big Game. Guacamole and hummus. Nachos. The second trend is a search closer to my own heart and its tender sensibilities. You may have already guessed it. Because you, Wonderful Reader, are smart, savvy and, well. Let's just gush a minute with appreciation. You are downright fabulous (with impeccable taste and discernment, I might add).
The second big trend is a search for romantic recipes and Valentine's Day inspiration. You're not surprised, are you? (See, I knew you were brilliant).
I'd much rather conjure up chocolate recipes than beans and burgers. Sexy food is more interesting than AstroTurf and lines of scrimmage and backfields in motion. And what the Hail Mary is a down, anyway? First down, fourth down. All these downs and off sides. It makes my head spin.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Quinoa Mushroom Pilaf
 |
| Quinoa pilaf with mushrooms, scallions and bell peppers. |
In between bouts of rain and nostalgia (I prickle using the word nostalgia, to be honest; it smacks of sentimentality, not a trait I cultivate or suffer gladly, but I'll get to that later) I've been craving quinoa
like there's no tomorrow, as if I'm living in my own post-apocalyptic genre movie
, foraging for nuts and berries on a desert highway in my fashionably shredded mud spattered get-up complete with goggles and chain link bracelets, wishing I had the taut burnished thighs of Tina Turner
instead of my own wobbly, pale set of limbs.
like there's no tomorrow, as if I'm living in my own post-apocalyptic genre movie, foraging for nuts and berries on a desert highway in my fashionably shredded mud spattered get-up complete with goggles and chain link bracelets, wishing I had the taut burnished thighs of Tina Turner instead of my own wobbly, pale set of limbs.Yeah. I'm talking voracious.
Read >>
Quinoa Mushroom Pilaf
|
| Quinoa pilaf with mushrooms, scallions and bell peppers. |
In between bouts of rain and nostalgia (I prickle using the word nostalgia, to be honest; it smacks of sentimentality, not a trait I cultivate or suffer gladly, but I'll get to that later) I've been craving quinoa like there's no tomorrow, as if I'm living in my own post-apocalyptic genre movie, foraging for nuts and berries on a desert highway in my fashionably shredded mud spattered get-up complete with goggles and chain link bracelets, wishing I had the taut burnished thighs of Tina Turner instead of my own wobbly, pale set of limbs.
like there's no tomorrow, as if I'm living in my own post-apocalyptic genre movie, foraging for nuts and berries on a desert highway in my fashionably shredded mud spattered get-up complete with goggles and chain link bracelets, wishing I had the taut burnished thighs of Tina Turner instead of my own wobbly, pale set of limbs.Yeah. I'm talking voracious.
Read >>
Friday, December 4, 2009
Pumpkin Quinoa Cookies
 |
| Pumpkin cookies made with quinoa flakes taste like oatmeal- but better. |
Dear Reader,
Yes, Babycakes, I'm talking to you. You know I love you, right? In fact, I'm crazy about you. I read your comments (beyond ten thousand now!) and I smile at your Twitters (or is the correct nomenclature actually tweets?). I'm giddy you follow the blog on Facebook. I am humbled by your generous and warm e-mails (I save them). Your feedback and support keeps me going and inspires me. Does this sound suspiciously like an anniversary post?
Yeah. I can't fool you, can I?
Read >>
Pumpkin Quinoa Cookies
|
| Pumpkin cookies made with quinoa flakes taste like oatmeal- but better. |
Dear Reader,
Yes, Babycakes, I'm talking to you. You know I love you, right? In fact, I'm crazy about you. I read your comments (beyond ten thousand now!) and I smile at your Twitters (or is the correct nomenclature actually tweets?). I'm giddy you follow the blog on Facebook. I am humbled by your generous and warm e-mails (I save them). Your feedback and support keeps me going and inspires me. Does this sound suspiciously like an anniversary post?
Yeah. I can't fool you, can I?
Read >>
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Apple-Pear Multigrain Muffins
 |
| Tender and sweet apple-pear muffins |
Today I have new muffin recipe for your gluten-free repertoire- with apples and pears. And a story. A story not about muffins or fruit or sunlit pastoral memories of picking apples with my grandfather (he wasn't that kind of grandfather). No, no childhood ramblings. A story instead that's more of a snippet. A conversation, actually.
The dating game.
The dating game.
"I wish I knew you in high school," I tell my husband.
This is not news to him. I say it all the time lately, now that I am in my second adolescence, fifteen years past mid-life. I sketch for him study hall humiliations sharing a bottle of red table wine and mixed olives. I search for words to depict how it feels when a snickering jock punches your clutch of books with his fists, sending you to your knees to rescue the sprawl of English homework, algebra and biology books that emit the faint smell of ink and gum.
He hates to hear this.
Read >>
Apple-Pear Multigrain Muffins
|
| Tender and sweet apple-pear muffins |
Today I have new muffin recipe for your gluten-free repertoire- with apples and pears. And a story. A story not about muffins or fruit or sunlit pastoral memories of picking apples with my grandfather (he wasn't that kind of grandfather). No, no childhood ramblings. A story instead that's more of a snippet. A conversation, actually.
The dating game.
The dating game.
"I wish I knew you in high school," I tell my husband.
This is not news to him. I say it all the time lately, now that I am in my second adolescence, fifteen years past mid-life. I sketch for him study hall humiliations sharing a bottle of red table wine and mixed olives. I search for words to depict how it feels when a snickering jock punches your clutch of books with his fists, sending you to your knees to rescue the sprawl of English homework, algebra and biology books that emit the faint smell of ink and gum.
He hates to hear this.
Read >>
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Fifty Five Things I've Learned in 55 Years
Last December, my blogging amiga Kalyn posted a list for her birthday: Sixty Things I've Learned in Sixty Years. Like so many readers, friends and fellow food bloggers, I was inspired by her post. So as birthday number fifty-five (fifty-five? how is that possible?) sat on the horizon as opaque and huge as June Gloom in Los Angeles, I was inspired to write my own list of hard won wisdom. Just to cheer myself up. And shake some cobwebs loose. Fifty-five just scares the pants off me, I gotta confess.
Fifty Five Things I've Learned in 55 Years
Read >>
Fifty Five Things I've Learned in 55 Years
Last December, my blogging amiga Kalyn posted a list for her birthday: Sixty Things I've Learned in Sixty Years. Like so many readers, friends and fellow food bloggers, I was inspired by her post. So as birthday number fifty-five (fifty-five? how is that possible?) sat on the horizon as opaque and huge as June Gloom in Los Angeles, I was inspired to write my own list of hard won wisdom. Just to cheer myself up. And shake some cobwebs loose. Fifty-five just scares the pants off me, I gotta confess.
Fifty Five Things I've Learned in 55 Years
Read >>
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Sweet Potato Coffee Cake- and a love story
 |
| Winter in Northern New Mexico- my view. |
It's been snowy, windy, cold- you name it. From all the tweets I've been reading over on Twitter lately, I'm not alone. Far from it. This has been one crazy snowy month. So what does a gluten-free goddess do when she gets stuck in the middle of the desert with no buckwheat flour, no sorghum, and no four-wheel drive? (Note to self- if you're going to live in rural Northern New Mexico, Darling, a cute and thrifty little Honda Fit won't cut it.)
Snowed in and hungry she does the only sensible thing.
She scans the pantry and pulls out a Whole Foods gluten-free cake mix and starts stirring things up. She starts imagining dirt bombs. And bakes up a coffee cake worthy of the winter holidays.
Read >>
Sweet Potato Coffee Cake- and a love story
|
| Winter in Northern New Mexico- my view. |
It's been snowy, windy, cold- you name it. From all the tweets I've been reading over on Twitter lately, I'm not alone. Far from it. This has been one crazy snowy month. So what does a gluten-free goddess do when she gets stuck in the middle of the desert with no buckwheat flour, no sorghum, and no four-wheel drive? (Note to self- if you're going to live in rural Northern New Mexico, Darling, a cute and thrifty little Honda Fit won't cut it.)
Snowed in and hungry she does the only sensible thing.
She scans the pantry and pulls out a Whole Foods gluten-free cake mix and starts stirring things up. She starts imagining dirt bombs. And bakes up a coffee cake worthy of the winter holidays.
Read >>
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Cider Roasted Vegetables
 |
| Roasted vegetables are an easy, fit for company favorite. |
Roasted vegetables. As you may have guessed from my last recipe, they are a favorite staple at our house. And beyond easy. We make them at least twice a week- a convivial ritual. Steve and I join forces in the kitchen at cocktail hour 
and cut up heaps of vegetables, sipping wine and talking politics. Or religion. Human behavior. Projection. Affect and temperament. All those spiky topics your grandmother warned you not to talk about at dinner parties (or at least in mixed company). We talk, all right. And talk.
After all, we're simpatico.
We're on the same ethical and moral page. We share the same values (muy importante in a marriage, let me tell you). And we're on safe ground here in our tiny desert kitchen- at least as long as the bank holding the mortgage doesn't go belly up (but money is another topic a "polite" woman doesn't discuss).
Steve and I are as fearless and hopeful with another as we were on our very first date- a cup of coffee (make that three) at Jack's Out Back in Yarmouthport. When he asked me where I saw myself in ten years- and told me he wasn't looking for a mother- I knew I'd found the man for me.
And last night- the one year mark of the unfortunate hip incident- as we stood in the very spot of my Charlie Brown
smack down, rustling up passionate discourse and tossing veggies left and right into a waiting roasting pan and punctuating Mamet style pauses with. Glugs. Of olive oil. And. Pinches of sea salt. My husband slid the pan into the hot oven. And kissed me.
Dinner is done, he said.
May this election soon be, I murmured.
And I raised my glass to the future.
While the veggies are roasting their earthy little hearts out, getting all golden and tender and sweet, put on a pot of your favorite brown rice or quinoa seasoned with a little olive oil and a sprinkle of curry, cumin, or Old Bay Seasoning
.
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
1 sweet or red onion, cut into wedges
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Serve over cooked brown rice or quinoa. Add a condiment for more protein- hummus is especially delicious with roasted vegetables. Add crumbles of goat cheese, if you like.
More Options:
Add a can of drained white beans or chick peas
for added protein; stir them into the vegetables during the last 15-20 minutes of roasting, to heat through.
Leftover roasted veggies can be baked into yummy quiches and frittatas or tossed into soups.
Omnivores can add in sliced cooked sausage or pieces of cooked chicken during the last 20 minutes of roasting; heat through.
and cut up heaps of vegetables, sipping wine and talking politics. Or religion. Human behavior. Projection. Affect and temperament. All those spiky topics your grandmother warned you not to talk about at dinner parties (or at least in mixed company). We talk, all right. And talk. After all, we're simpatico.
We're on the same ethical and moral page. We share the same values (muy importante in a marriage, let me tell you). And we're on safe ground here in our tiny desert kitchen- at least as long as the bank holding the mortgage doesn't go belly up (but money is another topic a "polite" woman doesn't discuss).
Steve and I are as fearless and hopeful with another as we were on our very first date- a cup of coffee (make that three) at Jack's Out Back in Yarmouthport. When he asked me where I saw myself in ten years- and told me he wasn't looking for a mother- I knew I'd found the man for me.
And last night- the one year mark of the unfortunate hip incident- as we stood in the very spot of my Charlie Brown
smack down, rustling up passionate discourse and tossing veggies left and right into a waiting roasting pan and punctuating Mamet style pauses with. Glugs. Of olive oil. And. Pinches of sea salt. My husband slid the pan into the hot oven. And kissed me.Dinner is done, he said.
May this election soon be, I murmured.
And I raised my glass to the future.
Cider Roasted Vegetables
While the veggies are roasting their earthy little hearts out, getting all golden and tender and sweet, put on a pot of your favorite brown rice or quinoa seasoned with a little olive oil and a sprinkle of curry, cumin, or Old Bay Seasoning
.Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
Wash and cut your favorite mix of vegetables and toss them into a large baking pan. Mix and match. Some folks worry about pairing the wrong vegetables but honestly, I've never had a problem combining. Just make sure you cut the assorted veggies in an evenhanded manner, keeping the sizes relatively close. Denser vegetables like carrots I usually slice thinner, knowing they'll take a bit longer to cook through.
1 sweet or red onion, cut into wedges
2 carrots, sliced
6 baby gold, purple or red potatoes, cut up
1 1/2 cups butternut squash or pumpkin, peeled, cubed
Half a cabbage- green or purple- sliced
1 1/2 cups broccoli florets
1 cup cauliflower florets
1 yellow squash, cut into half moons
A few green beans, whole, trimmed
A portobello mushroom or two, sliced or cut up
Lots of garlic, several whole or minced clovesToss the vegetables into a large roasting pan
. Season the veggies with sea salt and fresh ground pepper. Make your sauce.
. Season the veggies with sea salt and fresh ground pepper. Make your sauce.Cider Roasting Sauce:
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 cup natural apple cider
1 tablespoon agave, honey or brown sugar
Stir to blend. Pour the sauce over the veggies, toss well to coat.
Sprinkle with warming spices, if you like. Curry, nutmeg, a touch of cinnamon, some thyme. Roast for 30 to 45 minutes- or until the veggies are tender, to your liking.
Serve over cooked brown rice or quinoa. Add a condiment for more protein- hummus is especially delicious with roasted vegetables. Add crumbles of goat cheese, if you like.
More Options:
Add a can of drained white beans or chick peas
for added protein; stir them into the vegetables during the last 15-20 minutes of roasting, to heat through.Leftover roasted veggies can be baked into yummy quiches and frittatas or tossed into soups.
Omnivores can add in sliced cooked sausage or pieces of cooked chicken during the last 20 minutes of roasting; heat through.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Sticky Notes (on an anniversary)
 |
| Mist on the mesa- toward Abiquiu. |
We choose our partners with a secret eye seeking the twin. Not the twin in the mirror, but the lost twin in shadow. The discarded, smothered twin we poked and twisted and kicked under the bed of childhood. The Other. The Everything We Are Not. The Abandoned One.
Forgotten in order to please.
If the stars are kind and align just right, you choose well. And The Chosen shimmers with your own potential, reflecting not what you have found but what you seek. And basking in their soul mate glow you grow- just a little. You stretch and you risk- just a little. With time and fledgling self awareness you notice a glint sparking back at you and you reach to claim it, knowing, This belongs to me. I am this, too.
And you take it back.
This unburdens your partner, piece by shining piece- who is, by design, if you have not done the work of reclaiming, either bored or chafing beneath the yoke of your golden-hued projection. Or worse- wandering off in search of eyes that see something new, or more authentic.
When people ask, What is the secret of a good marriage? I usually answer, Chemistry. And good manners. Especially when it comes to the toilet seat. And then I laugh. Because it's true. But only a slice of the truth. The more complicated truth (and one you don't share at dinner parties) is a messy, juggling, wrestling wrangle with the aspects of two separate selves discovering two mysterious twins in the marriage bed.
You see, it's not always safe to integrate.
The squelched and sore parts of you can knock apart your coupled equilibrium. Don't kid yourself. It's not ever easy to bid for wholeness. To grow. Growth means change. And change is challenging. Even in the best of circumstances. So some days it's frighteningly tempting to believe that the dust balled fragments skulking in the shadows are not worth the effort of excavation.
Denial and distraction can smell pretty good at first.
But one cloudy day when your mending hip is aching and your desert skin is itching, you glance up from the kitchen counter cluttered with sticky spoons and banana peels, and you meet a clear gaze that sees you for who you really are- not some projected angel in the house, not some idealized muse, or nurturing mother stand-in. But who you really are in all your unadorned, quirky, burnished glory.
And you thank not the stars, or luck, or even fate. You know better. You've done your homework. So has he. So you smile a slow smile and crack, What are you looking at?
The love of my life, he says.
Happy 13th Anniversary, Steve.
Sticky Notes (on an anniversary)
|
| Mist on the mesa- toward Abiquiu. |
We choose our partners with a secret eye seeking the twin. Not the twin in the mirror, but the lost twin in shadow. The discarded, smothered twin we poked and twisted and kicked under the bed of childhood. The Other. The Everything We Are Not. The Abandoned One.
Forgotten in order to please.
If the stars are kind and align just right, you choose well. And The Chosen shimmers with your own potential, reflecting not what you have found but what you seek. And basking in their soul mate glow you grow- just a little. You stretch and you risk- just a little. With time and fledgling self awareness you notice a glint sparking back at you and you reach to claim it, knowing, This belongs to me. I am this, too.
And you take it back.
This unburdens your partner, piece by shining piece- who is, by design, if you have not done the work of reclaiming, either bored or chafing beneath the yoke of your golden-hued projection. Or worse- wandering off in search of eyes that see something new, or more authentic.
When people ask, What is the secret of a good marriage? I usually answer, Chemistry. And good manners. Especially when it comes to the toilet seat. And then I laugh. Because it's true. But only a slice of the truth. The more complicated truth (and one you don't share at dinner parties) is a messy, juggling, wrestling wrangle with the aspects of two separate selves discovering two mysterious twins in the marriage bed.
You see, it's not always safe to integrate.
The squelched and sore parts of you can knock apart your coupled equilibrium. Don't kid yourself. It's not ever easy to bid for wholeness. To grow. Growth means change. And change is challenging. Even in the best of circumstances. So some days it's frighteningly tempting to believe that the dust balled fragments skulking in the shadows are not worth the effort of excavation.
Denial and distraction can smell pretty good at first.
But one cloudy day when your mending hip is aching and your desert skin is itching, you glance up from the kitchen counter cluttered with sticky spoons and banana peels, and you meet a clear gaze that sees you for who you really are- not some projected angel in the house, not some idealized muse, or nurturing mother stand-in. But who you really are in all your unadorned, quirky, burnished glory.
And you thank not the stars, or luck, or even fate. You know better. You've done your homework. So has he. So you smile a slow smile and crack, What are you looking at?
The love of my life, he says.
Happy 13th Anniversary, Steve.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Acorn Squash with Green Chiles and Equal Love
 |
| My kinda squash. Kicked up with green chiles. |
I deeply (if not profoundly) doubt the ever expanding food blog galaxy needs yet another squash recipe, but.
I can't help myself.
Right before the Charlie Brown style tile floor smack down (aka hip incident), I threw together a flavor combo I am crazy about. Nutty for. Head over heals smack your lips and toss aside your chaste maple syrup Pilgrim traditions for. That's right. I got radical.
I added chopped roasted New Mexican green chiles to my roasted acorn squash. And a sexy pinch of cumin. A golden drizzle of fruity olive oil. Impudent changes to the way we do things around here that would have sent a certain lanky, curly-haired ex-boyfriend of mine scurrying for his cream of mushroom soup casserole. In other words, Gentle Reader, home to Mommy.
Acorn Squash with Green Chiles and Equal Love
|
| My kinda squash. Kicked up with green chiles. |
I deeply (if not profoundly) doubt the ever expanding food blog galaxy needs yet another squash recipe, but.
I can't help myself.
Right before the Charlie Brown style tile floor smack down (aka hip incident), I threw together a flavor combo I am crazy about. Nutty for. Head over heals smack your lips and toss aside your chaste maple syrup Pilgrim traditions for. That's right. I got radical.
I added chopped roasted New Mexican green chiles to my roasted acorn squash. And a sexy pinch of cumin. A golden drizzle of fruity olive oil. Impudent changes to the way we do things around here that would have sent a certain lanky, curly-haired ex-boyfriend of mine scurrying for his cream of mushroom soup casserole. In other words, Gentle Reader, home to Mommy.
