Gluten Free Chocolate Yogurt Cake

Out the window burns a luminous horizon, burgeoning with new opportunities on the brink of fruition. Which will evaporate and which will blossom in my grasp, I cannot say, but it’s exciting all the same. Among the not-so-likely is my upcoming trip to India with the husband, contingent upon a travel visa the country does not seem to want to grant me. I will not dwell on it, despite the fact that I’m supposed to be going in less than a month. POSITIVITY! Thy name is ALYA!

Right.

Among the more promising excursions into the promised land of the future is my newest endeavor with a local writing group sponsored by our library system. If you know me, you know I would do anything to avoid spotlight on most things, most notably direct attention upon me and my most personal ambition of becoming a novelist. But the husband dragged me kicking and screaming and heart palpitating and hyperventilating I went all the same, and it turned out to be fruitful, full of supportive people of all ages, not any of whom were likely to eat me alive with their carnivorous wit and bloodthirsty critiques.

Another promising activity was my first endeavor into the realm of gluten free experimentation! I honestly have no idea what to do with the flour; I read briefly the additional ingredients one usually needs to really lift up the dough so it isn’t dense or grainy, but… I’m not one for buying too many things unnecessarily that I won’t likely use much at all. I prefer to try out with what I have and then see from there. I had actually bought the gluten free flour (Bob’s Red Mill variety) because I’ve come to know a few people who either prefer it for personal reasons, or actually have wheat allergies, so this has been on my mind as a possibility for baking.

If Bangkok lived in the suburbs…

… it would probably cry itself to sleep with this as its last meal. Don’t be fooled—the amalgamation of flavors are quite honestly delicious, and I would make this multiple times, especially considering the speed with which it is concocted. That said, I can barely even whisper the connection between this would be-faux-heretical-absurd rendition of pad thai. Hardly even a reimagining, if you will. Nay, I honestly can only call it the pseudo-pad thai of the suburbs.

And why do I say this? Because we are missing: fish sauce, palm sugar, scallions, flat rice noodles (ugh! I’m ashamed to even be sharing this!), to name the key ingredients at least. Nevertheless, I had been craving craving craaaaaaving thai food for ages, but we are on a staunch mission to only eat out once a week as a means of 1) keeping to a stricter healthy regimen and 2) to stimulate smarter economical habits so that I may spend more frivolously should I actually obtain my travel visa in time to visit India with the husband in March. While that is as yet unconfirmed, alas, it doesn’t mean I can’t try to be more wary of spending habits. And thus, the suburban pad thai was born from my kitchen.

But these experiences always remind me that while authentic cuisine is vital to understanding and respecting a culture, playing hickety-spicket with the ingredients is the breeding ground for such classic genres as “Asian fusion,” “Indo-chinese” and “Whatchamacallit” (a personal favorite and frequent guest of our abode).

In truth, I just winged this out of the left side of heaven, and thankfully was blessed with a lovely dinner dish.

Shrimp Scampi

Did you know I love Italian food? As a child my favorite food was ravioli… then lasagna… then ravioli and lasagna. Since then I’ve graduated to adore other cuisines (I don’t think I can live without Indian/Pakistani or Thai food) but I have a secret longing for it sometimes that I cannot normally satiate. All that pasta, all that glorious carbohydrate-rich pasta… no, I can’t go there. My round and pudgy inner-child may be bouncing in pure joy at the thought but that’s as far as I can go. Of course every once in a while we all have a fine Italian meal but not nearly as often as was my lifestyle long ago. This may of course be in part because the husband has a distinct lack of fondness for tomato sauce. I know. It hurts me just to write that (please have mercy on him, supreme marinara lords of the Tuscan sun).

Pumpkin Ginger Cakelets

Winter chills have seeped into town. Bright sun bears down false sustenance, leaving barren trees to tremble in the icy air. Absent of snow though the days may be (for now), the frosty turn of foggy breath and arctic shivers leave no room for doubt that warmth is the number-one desired commodity now. Warmth and comfort. Warmth and comfort and languid bliss. In my short triple-decade stint of existence, I’ve learned that this is best achieved through that most dangerously seductive of avenues: the tummy. And nothing sings joyful choruses like a soft ‘n sweet treat, bite sized to match your tiny indulgences (we shall forget the ease with which infinite bites can be had in one sitting for now).

Crisp Cranberry Orange Marriage

Newsflash!  One unexpected Saturday afternoon recently, my husband came home from the gym, headed directly to the kitchen and served himself lunch.  Not a shock of course, food is his first second and third love (along with music and, I guess, me). And naturally he went straight for the chicken biryani I had made, but when I looked up to check on him, there was something green and leafy on his plate as well.  Could it be? The husband willingly chose, on his own volition, at no one’s request but his own hankering, to eat salad???

You must understand that this is a man who claims to be vegetarian at heart but only eats maybe five veggies at all with any gusto.  A man who cringes whenever I mention the S-word at a restaurant.  This same man sat there munching, happily proclaiming for all to hear (and by all, I mean me) that this was his favorite salad ever.  He not merely endured it, but relished the crisp sweet pleasure that I had concocted with fruitful flare!  Oh perhaps I exaggerate slightly but his proclamation was completely true.

I originally made this salad for Thanksgiving dinner, whereby all my friendly guests fell enamored with the simply powerful dressing that brought an exhilaration that greenery had never held in their lives.  Hyperbole?  I concede it.  But then I’ve also never seen my friend Tehniat drool over salad either, so you be the judge.  During that evening, the husband was prompted to give a name to this salad, and so that is what I present to thee: the Crisp Cranberry Orange Marriage.

Mushroom Tibs

Pardon me while I gloss over what is considered the biggest meal in American culture to focus on… fungus. Oh sure, said like that one might cry rivers of misery at the thought of eating mushrooms (but in a psychedelic twist, you might consider swimming down that river in a rainbow colored wetsuit—that is, if you were delving into those mushrooms, which I do not advocate). But in recent times I have turned to the remarkable assortment of questionable vegetation to get my husband to eat something that isn’t rice.

I certainly am not knocking the grand tradition that is our Thanksgiving Rituals (distrustful as I am about the origins of such appreciative holidays). I could eat sage-onion stuffing (recipe courtesy of my friend Z) for eons, and never let us forget the accolades I bestow on the greatest gourd of all, the pumpkin! And let it be known, I did confront and beat into submission a Thanksgiving dinner fit for 6 hungry palates (Alya cooked a turkey ALL-BY-HER-SELF… her FIRST-TURKEY-EVER, mind you! Nerves were scattered like spilt salt by the end of it all). But that will have to wait until another post, another time, hopefully in the month of December because I know I have been egregiously lagging with my posts.

And that is another Reason why I share with you my mushroom exploits—I have reverted to them multiple times in the past few weeks, it felt wrong not to share. It all began with a country called Ethiopia… and the fabulous culinary establishments in DC whose purpose is to bring this great cuisine to my salivating tongue all the curious society.

On our anniversary weekend we made n excursion to an Ethiopian restaurant, and during that experience fell absolutely in love with the divine gift that is Mushroom tibs. Naturally, once I returned home I had to do some research on it, and while I am sorely lacking in the department of traditional Ethiopian spices, I did find a recipe that called for a fair substitution/alteration of flavor, coming remarkably close to the glory of the sautéed delicacy. And so the Mushroom has become a fairly regular guest at our dinner table—which is no problem for me since he’s such a fun guy (Ohhh insert catcalls for lame jokes here).

Butternut Squash Soup with Curried Tofu and Peppers

Did you see the snow fall? Dropping like powdered sugar and melting atop the hot pot of earth? Did you think you’d ever battle with your senses to comprehend a white Halloween? Where did the black and orange go? Autumn reds and golds popping out between the scattered brilliance of white.

Of course it really isn’t like that. This hushed snow won’t last very long at all; it barely survives the journey down before mottled grass steams it back to the sky. But it is quite an enchantment to combine the spirits of Halloween with ghostly white. I’m actually not a huge fan of Halloween to be honest. It’s ridiculous the kind of spectacle it has become (and I won’t even bother discussing the vapid and barely-there costumes that are a cultural mainstay of our oh-so-brilliant society) but I do respect the history behind it, the whispers of people past that are remembered, and… well, a fun and haunting corn maze or two. Plus, it’s aaaaalllll about pumpkin for me. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, pumpkin seeds, pumpkin pumpkin pumpkin!!

But today is not about this most glorious orange fruit, but its cousin… the butternut squash.

I hardly venture to new fruits and veggies when I know the husband doesn’t take a particular liking to it—and butternut squash has never met kindly with his palate. However, I was simply craving soup! You see what kind of wintry gusts of winsome weather are rolling in now, how can one resist a decadent sumptuous and savory soup on a cold October evening??

Besides, I took it down a familiar route for the husband, making a beautiful curried medley of flavor. As far as my quick research revealed, the two primary directions with this kind of soup are the traditional pumpkin spice route (thus rendering it almost dessert-like in my opinion, oh I love pumpkin pie!) or a curry flavor. I had made coconut curry with butternut squash once, so I can see how those flavors do combine well. And with a soup, the entire thing is blended into a smooth creamy consistency, thus removing any discomfort one may have with this texture of the squash. Plus, I added my own touch because leaving it a simple creamy soup wasn’t enough—so what matches better than curried tofu and peppers? For us, nothing else would do. J

So I embarked! I tend not to use chicken broth these days by the way for two reasons: never know when a certain chicken flavor will be too strong for the husband to swallow (literally) and the bouillon cubes I buy, whether chicken or vegetable flavored, have added MSG which seems to bring about headaches in this household. So I simply used water, but for your sake be aware you can use a broth instead. Or make homemade broth even, if you have the time.