On Life As A Picky Foodie

Happy 2012 everyone!

There's a book I love to read to Vida Lev.  In it, the world becomes a relatively small, very nature-oriented planet where the birth of a child is passed on from creature to creature until gradually everyone is ready to welcome a new being onto this earth.  Beautiful, no?  And about as far away from our technocratic, virtual world as it's possible to be.

We live far removed from one another and while physical distance is easier to bridge than ever -- my daughter knows the word Skype already, and knows that it means we will be seeing her grandmother on the computer screen -- local relationships sometimes feel trickier to manage.  

The other day, a woman I follow on twitter was commenting how distant she feels from her Facebook friends.  I have to admit that I completely understand her.  My Facebook page is personal and everyone on there are people I have met face to face and have felt some kinship to at one point or another -- from pre-school to high school, from El Salvador to Ojai, these are people I supposedly know.

And yet, I often find these "friends" and I have little in common.  Sometimes I am even offended by their postings -- apparently, in addition to lovely and kind people,  I am also "friends" with fascists, bigots, racists and chauvinists.  (I'm shuddering right now, by the way.)

When I was first introduced to twitter, I rejected it completely.  Enough, I said, no more social media.  But seeing as The Picky Foodie won't grow legs and walk the earth without some help, I decided to give it a shot.  And the results were astounding.  Though I haven't met most of my twitter peeps -- with some wonderful exceptions like the delightful Molly of The Particular Kitchen and Mona of Wise Words -- I find we have so much more in common than I do with so many of my "friends" on Facebook.

Today is my three-month veganiversary.  While many assume I have been vegan for yonks, I wasn't ready to take the official step until this year, October 12th, to be exact.  My 35th birthday.  Will I be vegan forever?  Who knows!  But for now, I'm enjoying the feeling of not eating animal products (with the exception of the occasional bit of honey), experimenting with plant-based proteins, and eating in a way that is more in line with my values.

While I took this step on my own, I have found inspiration in so many blog posts, recipes and experiences shared by the people I have found on twitter.  What can I say?  It does truly take a village.  Here are my  3 faves:

-  Gena Hamshaw at Choosing Raw -- hilariously, when I went to her website to double check the spelling of Gena's last name, I found a recent recipe for  a similar kind of bread and just like me, she found that while the loaf is good, it's probably closer to the taste of a health-food-foodie (in fact, I think I'll try hers next).  Nutritionist, future super-power MD, Gena is a wiz in the kitchen and knows truck-loads about health as well as recovering from Eating Disorders.  Love her!  

-  Seyward Rebhal's Bonzai Aphrodite -- totally fabulous, totally fun, totally unique, totally vegan.  I return to this site again and again, for inspiration and because Seyward is just totally awesome.  

-  Kris Carr's Crazy Sexy website-- This woman has makes living with incurable disease look glamorous.  She's the rock star of healing with food and healthy living.  Think attitude isn't important when it comes to kicking Cancer's ass?  Check out Kris, her amazing story and her wonderfully informative website.  

Through these and other sites I visit regularly, I will occasionally stumble on a one-off wild card recipes by people I haven't heard of before.  Blog posts passed and retweeted, about foods and recipes I'm delighted to play with as well.  And so too with the original recipe for this moist apple bread by Wendakai.  In my gluten-free, mostly grain-free life, I sometimes crave bread and sometimes long for cake.  This recipe falls somewhere between sweet and mildly savory, between bread and cake.  Does that make it a loaf?  

Anyway, the first mouthful took me back to the night I gave birth to Vida Lev. After we had cleaned up, my baby had fed for the first time and we were all happily cuddling in bed, Elke and Sandesh, the amazing midwives, asked me what I wanted to eat.  By then it was one in the morning and I hadn't had any food for close to twelve hours.  "Be careful what you ask for," Elke said, "because you will remember this for the rest of your life."  She was right: the slice of toasted bread DW had baked for me the day before with almond butter and fig spread is something I still dream of.

And when this lovely little loaf came out of the oven, as my beautiful daughter slept in the next room, I slathered a nice slice in almond butter and topped it with fig spread and a touch of nostalgia.

May this year bring health, happiness, joy and may you dance in the sunshine.

With love,

Gabriela

Gluten Free, Vegan Apple Spice Bread

1 c whole garfava flour (a mixture of garbanzo and fava bean flour available from Bob's Red Mill)

1/2 c millet flour

1/4 c almond flour

2 t gluten free baking powder

1 1/2 t cinnamon

1/2 t ginger powder

1/2 c date sugar

2 T mesquite (optional)

1/4 t sea salt (optional)

1 flax egg (if you need instructions on how to properly make one, Bonzai Aphrodite has great instructions here)

3/4 c apple sauce

juice of 1 lemon (about 1/4 c)

1/2 c water

Instructions:  Preheat the oven to 350 Fahrenheit (about 175 Centigrade)

In a large bowl, mix the dry ingredients: flour, baking powder, spices, salt

Add the wet ingredients and mix well.

Bake for about 50 minutes.

This loaf if great toasted though, as I mentioned before, it might not be for everyone.  

There's a great story of my mother, who has always baked "different" (read: healthy) things, taking a zucchini bread to a picnic once.  The husband of a friend of hers couldn't get enough of it -- he just loved it.  Until my mother told him what it was made of and he found he suddenly didn't like it anymore. 

Afterwards he politely requested that my mother never reveal what she put in her lovely baked goods again. 

Somewhere along the way, I lost my sense of direction.  The map I had drawn got washed along with my favourite flea market jeans.  I was sixteen and couldn’t remember where I was supposed to turn to get where I wanted to go.

The first time I revealed to someone I loved and trusted that I wanted to be a writer, I took what was, for me, a huge leap of faith.  It was a deep and scary revelation that took all of my courage.  Their response broke my heart:

“Why would you want to do that?” they said with a chuckle that felt like a smack across my cheek, “you can’t make a living at it, and besides, who would be interested in anything YOU have to say?”

Though I am no longer in contact with this person, their words shut me down for years.  Unable to get past the question about who my audience would be, I froze – I didn’t have the answer and couldn’t muster the guts to find out.  Because what if they were right and nobody read my words?  I couldn’t bear the thought of pouring my soul onto the page and having it be rejected.  

Though I was able to get that person out of my life, their words continued to haunt me.  To this day, when I’m struggling with my writing, I can hear that familiar voice telling me I’m not good enough.  With time, I have learned to recognize it for what it is.  And now, after years of hiding and procrastinating, I have finally decided to take that leap once more. 

The kitchen is my sanctuary.  It’s where I go when I’m sad or angry or frustrated.  It’s my safe place.  Somehow, I seem to have more courage in the kitchen.  Because here’s the thing: I am a terrible baker.  My cakes, gluten-free and vegan, come out crumbly or hard, too gummy or not sweet enough.  Sometimes – believe it or not – my cakes come out all of the above, and it takes a certain talent to make a cake that is both crumbly and gummy!

I guess with cake as with fiction, it’s about accepting that your first draft will probably be terrible.  In fact, it’s supposed to be terrible.  Not that that’s easy to admit to yourself or pleasant to hear or acknowledge.  But only by doing something over and over, by ripping it to shreds and really analysing what needs to be improved can you get good.  Like writing.  Or baking.

Recently I have been spending a lot of time on Jennifer Perillo’s blog.  When I saw this cake, although, as I say, my baking leaves a lot to be desired, I decided I had to attempt it -- Picky Foodie style of course.

The result? 

I’m pretty sure I will bake better cakes in the future.  But I’ve definitely done worse.  It wasn’t too gummy or too crumbly and it wasn’t too hard.  Amazingly, it stayed together quite well in that you can pick up a piece and comfortably take a bite without losing half of it along the way.  It could possibly have been a little sweeter -- the kind of cake you could have for breakfast or for dessert -- and I suspect it will complement DW’s afternoon tea really well.

Best of all?  I love the feeling of having another draft under my belt and my baking seems to have really improved in that my raspberry cake was at least edible.  I’m going to make this one again, try for better, keep working towards that elusive perfect Picky Foodie cake.

Calorie-wise, at least, I think writing will be easier than baking.  So there’s another reason to give this fiction thing another shot.  In the mean time, however, I think I’ll go brew some rosehip and hibiscus tea and cut myself another little piece.  

Raspberry Cake
(adapted from Jennifer Perillo’s Raspberry Olive Oil Cake)

Makes one 10-inch cake

2 cups Bob’s Red Mill gluten free All Purpose flour
¼ cup coconut sugar
1 T maple syrup
2 t baking powder
¼ t coarse salt
2 T ground flax seeds briefly soaked in 2 T water
1 T melted coconut oil (and a little more to grease the pan)
2 t vanilla extract
½ cup coconut milk
2 c frozen raspberries
1 mashed banana

Preheat the oven to 350 Fahrenheit / 175 Centigrade

Sift together the dry ingredients.

Whisk together the wet ingredients, leaving out the raspberries.

Combine the two and then fold in the raspberries.

Grease a 10 inch round cake pan with a little coconut oil and then pour in the batter.  Bake for 45 minutes.  Allow to cool slightly and then remove the cake from within the cake pan but keep the bottom. 

Once the cake has cooled down completely, indulge in a piece and wait for the muse to find you.

I meant to post the pineapple picture for a week.  We were leaving to Israel and –is this weird? – I don’t like to advertise when we’re going away.  DW calls me a “a healthy mix between constructive paranoid and psycho.”  Possibly… 

So I put up the photograph, and finished packing our bags.

It was supposed to be a relatively simple, fun family-reunion.

But then it all went pear-shaped.

First there was a family emergency.  Five days of hell, while we waited for tests results and all kinds of levels to rise, fall and generally even out. 

Then there was the aftermath when we all looked at one another in a state of shock and tried to enjoy what was left of the ummm holiday (?).  However, nobody told Vida Lev that sleeping in was an option, so we remained exhausted even after three days at the beach.   

I will say this: it wasn’t all bad.  Vida swam in the ocean for the first time.  She tried all kinds of interesting and fun things: petting her grandmother’s cat, watermelon, proper Middle Eastern hummus. Our little girl also took her first steps.

And in the middle of it all, I baked cookies.

There was something wonderfully soothing about mixing together the ingredients, sticking them in the oven, waiting for them to cool and then enjoying them.  The mundane amidst the chaos reminds us that somewhere out there, life is still going on as normal. 

Originally these cookies were intended so that Vida Lev would have something to nosh on when she got hungry in her pram.  But when my grandmother tasted one and promptly requested that I show my mother how to make them, I thought I might be on to something.  The deal was sealed when my brother – who hates raisins – happily polished them off.

Everyday Cookies

Preheat the oven to 175 Centigrade / 350 Fahrenheit

In a large mixing bowl, combine the following ingredients:
-  1 ½ - 2 cups ground almonds (less makes for a softer cookie, more makes for a heartier one)
-  2 t vanilla (I use pure vanilla bean powder)
-  ¼ cup melted coconut oil
-  ½ cup raisins
-  ¼ cup maple syrup

Once those are well-combined, add
-  1 egg*

Using an ice cream scoop, drop the cookie batter on a non-stick baking sheet in even mounds.  Flatten lightly with a wet fork (optional). 
Bake for 9-11 minutes, depending on your oven.  The cookies should come out of the oven slightly browned around the edges but still soft. 
Allow to cool completely before serving.

* Note: a friend of mine made these without the egg (I simply forgot to mention it on the ingredients’ list).  In her words: “These cookies are going to be a problem…  We made them, licked the bowl clean and ate five between us.” 
So I’m going to try this (vegan) version next time.
To my friend, I would like to say: Dearest, after the month that just passed, believe me, those should be our problems :)

UPDATE
I have now made these cookies without the egg -- so completely vegan.  In fact, I even omitted the vanilla by accident (15 minutes to baby's bed time, empty fridge, food needed for tomorrow's outing -- you do the math).  DW agreed to be the taster.  He proclaimed them "Oh My God" and "better than with the egg," saying they tasted "buttery," and "like shortbread."  I'll take that as a yes.  
Without the egg, I baked the cookies as instructed above for 11 minutes.  Then I turned the tray around, switched off the oven and left them in for another 10 or so.  

I had a post written and ready to put up.  Completed, done, signed, sealed, deli--- then I had a conversation with a woman about life insurance.  Because when you’re an adult, you need to talk about things like that.  Eesh.

So we talked about death, this woman and I, and how much DW would get, how much I would get in the event of.  Somehow every amount of money sounds ridiculous.  “We’re sorry for your loss, but here’s the cash we agreed to pay you.”

Now I know, rationally, as an adult, that this is a necessary step to take, but the rest of me was screaming about how wrong all of this was.

Still, I sat through the thirty-eight minutes of questions – do you have a terrible illness?  Have you had a terrible illness?  Have your parents had a terrible illness?  Do you envisage getting a terrible illness?  Is there any reason to suspect you will have a terrible illness at some point? 

Some questions made me laugh: do you regularly go potholing or bungee jumping? 

Other questions were downright terrifying: about alcoholism and drug abuse, about family histories and previous health problems.  I wondered how people who do suffer such afflictions feel having to divulge God knows what to the stranger reading the questionnaire on auto-pilot.

What does this have to do with food, health and general Picky Foodie themes, you ask? 

Well after this young lady had finished making sure my kidneys, liver, lungs and heart have no history of crapping out on me, after she had made sure that I don’t have any STDs, that I’m not HIV positive and that I don’t suffer from psychosis, neurosis or other psychiatric problems, she said “I’m very sorry but I’m going to have to ask you a sensitive question…” she hesitated.  Then she got the courage to continue: “What is your dress size?”

Uh, what? 

I couldn’t resist: “THAT is your sensitive question?”

I’ll let you come to your own conclusions on just how ridiculous that conversation was.  But in honour of my waistline and yours, I would like to share a lovely New Potato salad recipe.  It keeps well, travels well and fills you up regardless of your dress size.

Let me say this: I’m not a fan of the popular potato (I know, I don’t drink nor do I like potatoes.  And yet, I live in England.).  Last week, at the farmer’s market, however, DW mentioned how much he would enjoy some from time to time.  As fate would have it, a great looking spud salad was featured on one of my favourite mainstream recipe sites – Food52.  This is the second time I make this dish in as many weeks, and the second time it disappears remarkably quickly.    

New Potato Salad
(adapted from Food52)

The key to this recipe is to make it while the potatoes are still warm so they can soak up the lovely vinaigrette.  Prep time is around a half hour from start to finish.  It keeps well in the refrigerator for a few days and is hearty enough for grey summer days yet refreshing enough for sunny picnics. 

-  1 kg new potatoes, scrubbed and cut into large bite-sized pieces
-  1 T ume plum vinegar
-  100 gr rocket (arugula)
-  2 T fresh chives, finely chopped
-  2 spring onions, finely chopped
-  1 T mustard
-  1 T balsamic vinegar
-  1 T pomegranate vinegar (optional–replace with an additional T of balsamic)
-  2 T olive oil
-  ½ t salt or to taste

Bring the potatoes to a boil in a pot of water.  Cook for about 10 minutes, until soft but not mushy.  Drain and put in a large salad bowl.

Add the ume vinegar and salt to the potatoes and mix gently so the potatoes pieces stay more of less whole.  Then gently mix in the chives and spring onions.

For the vinaigrette:  whisk together the mustard, vinegar and olive oil.  Pour over the potatoes and mix in well. 

At this point, the mixture should still be relatively warm.  Now is the time to add the rocket (arugula). 

Serve warm or at room temperature. 

So I have a thing about textures.

I love watching my baby girl explore them with as much relish as I do. With "gentle hands," she timidly runs her fingers along rose petals, the patterns of our green sofa, my skin.  And so too with food.

In the beginning, I found it almost painful to feed her plain pieces of roasted sweet potato.  How plain, how goopy, how dull.  I want to scrape my tongue at the very thought.  But Vida Lev is still learning about the vast expanse of flavors, textures and food experiences there are to be had and she loves her sweet potato as is.  In fact, she is teaching me to simplify, enjoy, or at least taste things on their own before I add spices, herbs and other foods.

Textures and flavors - to me, both factors determine the quality of a dish.  When something really stands out, it is because a balance has been obtained between them.  Personally, I prefer stark contrasts – hot and cold, crunchy and chewy, sweet and savory, wet and dry.  Like fleur de sel on a good praline.  Or fruit in a salad.  

Next time you’re hungry and can’t figure out what you’re truly wanting, try closing your eyes and asking yourself what texture you desire.  Is it soft or hard?  Doughy or bitty?  Wet or dry?

When I was about thirteen, we spent a summer on Lake Muscoca up in Canada. And while I remember the trampoline and the rickety old diving board that felt as if it was going to topple every time one of us dared to scoot to the end of it, my most vivid memories have to do with food.

The popcorn my aunt would make, it's salty crunchiness that was unlike the kind we got at the movies back home (where they only sold it covered in sugar -- horrendous!).  A few moments after the inevitable bellow of the fire alarm, she would present the warm bowl of crisp, white kernels.  We would sit around grabbing handfuls as we looked up at the stars.  Being a city girl, it was the first time I had seen such the night sky so clearly.  And while I loved lying back on the recliner and calling out every time I glimpsed a shooting star, what I was most focused on was the popcorn in my mouth.  I loved dousing it in fake butter and popping each kernel into my mouth where I could maneuver it into the perfect position, with my teeth sunk in the cavity just below the sharper, popped edges and my tongue running along the rounder bit.

I remember the bacon, the likes of which I had never tasted before. It was fresh, crispier than potato chips and crackled vigorously in my mouth.

For years, I associated Canada with bacon, popcorn and beer coolers, which we stole sips of when the adults weren’t looking.

By far my favorite discovery, however, was the locally made Rocky Road ice cream.  The cottage my family had rented sat alone on a tiny island that was only accessible by boat.  Whenever groceries were needed someone would have to go to the mainland.

Even then, way before I had any interest in cooking or health, I loved supermarkets.  Especially that summer. Because tagging along with whomever's turn it was to shop meant a scoop of Rocky Road.

Growing up in Belgium meant that there was never a shortage of the highest quality sweet treats.  But this ice cream beat even the most prestigious chocolatiers.

Looking back now, I realize that what seduced me wasn't the sweetness or even wonderfully artificial flavors. It was the balance of textures: crunchy nuts, gooey marshmallows, sticky caramel, creamy ice cream.  Each one was present in just the right amount, and as a result, the flavors melded as if they weren’t meant to be enjoyed separately.

This past year, I really focused on nuts and seeds. Not because I love them (though I do), but rather because I craved their oily crunch.  Almost everything I made involved Nuts.

Then, when I decided to follow the Naturopath's suggestion and remove them from my diet, I panicked. That very night, I made a warm salad... Sans nuts. And it wasn't half bad.

Within about three days, I felt better than I had in months. I didn't feel as deprived as I had feared. In fact, I didn't feel deprived at all. The only thing I missed was the texture, the added kick in my mouth that balanced out chewy, stringy, dry or wet. But that too faded as I focused on creating and discovering new nut-free dishes instead. 

Textures have as much of an emotional component as flavours: like when I'm sad and crave doughy foods. I might want savoury - like bread - or sweet - like brownies. But really, it's the texture that I crave and find comfort in.

Way back when, before I could put words to these preferences, I sat on that dock many a time as the sun started to set, twirling my Tongue in my mouth like a dreamcatcher, angling for a taste of every sumtuous part of the magical combination.  Every bite had potential, and while I didn't know it yet, I had already embarked on my journey -- in search of that elusive perfect bite.

Coconut Squares & Jam (a raw recipe)
(adapted from the very awesome bonzaiaphrodite.com)

Been on a bit of a dessert kick lately – like for the past 30-something years!  When a couple of good friends had a baby this week, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to try these puppies out.  Of course, I couldn’t not tinker with it and add my personal touches.  As you can see from the name, however, in this house, food aside, we’ve got Dr. Seuss on the brain.   

This recipe is simple, quick and child-friendly.  Coconut oil is a thyroid booster, the dried fruit is sweet with a little tang.  Feel free to use any dried fruit, but make sure to adjust the amount of sweetener accordingly.

For the crust:
2 cups coconut flour
1 cup coconut water
1/3 x2 cup coconut oil
½   cup maple syrup
1 t vanilla powder
1/2 t cinnamon
pinch salt

Melt the coconut oil in a bain de Marie.  Sift the flour to remove any lumps.  Add the cinnamon, salt and vanilla.  Once the oil is melted, mix in along with the coconut water and maple syrup.  Use your hands to really create a beautiful robust dough. 

Line a cookie pan (8 ½ x 12 inch or 21.5 x 30 cm) with parchment paper.  Flatten the dough evenly.  Refrigerate.

For the jam topping:
2 cups dried, unsulphured apricots
1 cup dried sour cherries (unsweetened)
1/8 cup raisins
3+ cups water
juice of 1 orange
zest of 1 medium lemon

Combine the dried fruit in a bowl.  Cover with just enough water.  Allow to soak for as long as you have – fifteen minutes to make the crust, or overnight if you have the time. 

Once soft, put the fruit in the food processor, keeping the soak water to add as necessary.  Start with ½ cup of the water as well as the freshly squeezed orange juice and process until you’ve got the beginning of a jam-like texture.  Then add the fresh lemon zest and process until relatively but not completely smooth.

To make the squares:
Spread the jam evenly over the crust.  Refrigerate for a couple of hours at least.  Then cut into squares. 

Keep in an airtight container in the fridge.

One question many people ask me is about disasters in the kitchen.  Have I had any?  What were they?  Truth be told, I don’t often remember as that’s not what I tend to dwell on.  However, one meal – if you can call it that -- does stick in my mind and since January is Detox month, I thought I’d come clean and write about it.

I’ve noticed that when it comes to eating healthy food, people really want to be wooed.  If I said I was deep frying my kitchen sink, expectations would probably not be as high, but being known as a “healthy” person, means dinner guests expect to be impressed.

It’s as if healthy automatically means sawdust in most people’s minds.  And if you’re not planning on serving steamed sawdust, then you’d better come up with something spectacular.  Personally, I find that quite strange, but whatever…

On the other side of that is the person doing the cooking – me in this case. I don’t really fret over it anymore: like with most things, the more experience I have with cooking, the easier it feels.  However, it wasn’t always thus.

A few years back, my grandmother came to visit.  I was just beginning my Picky Foodie journey and wasn’t as comfortable in the kitchen as I am now.  My beloved grandmother was let’s say a tad sceptical about this whole “healthy” business.  I, however, was determined to change her mind – almost defensively so. 

All had gone relatively well until then, mostly because I had eased her into my cooking and supplemented liberally with bread, butter, cheese and brownies from The Kitchen Table, a favourite café up the road where everything is made from scratch using fresh and high quality ingredients.  My grandmother had politely declined most of my homemade offerings, or, at the most, tasted a bit or two, and nodded politely. 

I remained nevertheless determined to seduce her palate.  The plan was to make a broccoli soup.  It was going to be vegan and cold though not quite raw as I was planning to steam the broccoli.  Don’t ask me why, I thought it was a good idea to make something I had never made before – it was a recipe I was going to tackle for the first time!

You see, I wanted to woo my grandmother not only with the amazing flavours, but also with my incredible talent in the kitchen. 

Yeah, that didn’t exactly go as planned. 

I made two fatal mistakes:

The first was thinking a vegetable is a vegetable is a vegetable.  Once upon a time in an era when my cooking had consisted of heaping steaming food out of takeaway packages, my friend H had shared a foolproof recipe for vegan cauliflower soup.  No, not broccoli, cauliflower…  That day, I thought, how different can they really be?   

My second mistake was a little subtler.  My friend’s recipe called for a ton of soy milk.  Having recently been diagnosed with a thyroid problem, that wasn’t going to work for me.  Luckily, I had also become more interested in the raw food movement.  No problem in that case: I figured I’d simply use cashews instead of soy milk.  Cashews are used extensively in raw food.  They are used to make cheeses, blended and strained as mylk, and thrown in virtually everything as thickeners.  Cashews are like a magic raw ingredient (though hard-core raw foodists don’t often eat as much fat as that, in addition to the fact that many packaged cashews are heated above what is acceptable… but bla la bla -- I digress) and I thought they would be a perfect replacement for the soya milk.  Wrong Again!

The result was knobbly, lumpy, tasteless and FUGLY.  Fugly, fugly, fugly.  Green polka dot fugly.  My grandmother took one bite and shyly and politely asked may I have another piece of bread please?

Here’s the kicker, though.  My goal was to wow my guests – and one in particular – but I didn’t actually taste what I was going to be serving them beforehand.  Now maybe if I had made the recipe, oh I don’t know, a hundred times already, I might have gotten away with it.  But this was my first shot.  And man did it bomb. 

Luckily, my grandmother has never refused to try anything I have made.  She has an itty bitty bite of everything.  Since the broccoli soup disaster, she has gone on to pronounce my cooking Interesting and even asks for seconds sometimes.  Though she’s made it very clear that she still prefers her toast and jam. 

These Gluten Free Flatbreads, on the other hand, my grandmother has always enjoyed.

Gluten-Free Spring Onion Flatbreads
(makes 6 large flatbreads – great with spreads)

1 C brown rice flour
½ C chickpea flour
½ t arrowroot powder
½ t baking soda
½ t xantham gum
¼ t salt (or to taste)
1 T olive oil
½ t balsamic vinegar
4 spring onions, finely chopped
1 ½ C water

Preheat the oven to 120 degrees Centigrade (248 Fahrenheit).

Combine the dry ingredients.  Add the olive oil and balsamic vinegar, then add the spring onion. 

Mixing as you go, add the water gradually until the batter is almost watery, but still thick. 

Heat a non-stick pan until water spatters on the surface.  Keeping the heat on medium, ladle ½ cup of the batter at a time into the pan.  You know it’s time to flip the flatbread once the edges start getting hard. 

Once each side is starting to brown, put in the oven.  Bake for about ½ hour.