Gluten-free shortbread

I’ve been trying to avoid gluten these past few months. I’d heard it can interfere with thyroid function and as I have this beastly little thyroid that has been playing tricks on my metabolism, sleeping habits and general well being for the past six years I thought I’d give it a go.  I’m not sure what I did to piss my thyroid off but it’s may as well have upped and left for all the good it’s doing. Thus far it hasn’t seem to make a difference how much goodness I put into my body my paltry little thyroid gland  sits all high and mighty refusing to work on its own. Well, of course he’s quite happy for me to shell out at the drug store month after month to keep him ticking over but I’m trying to kick his little habit. I’ve called him Fred, because clearly his lack of pro-activeness warrants him male status. I thought perhaps if I starved useless Fred of gluten that he just may start behaving himself again. It’s worked on Don, why not on a lazy thyroid gland?

Okay, so I’ve never attempted to starve my husband but whilst I’ve been working in West Virginia these past few months he has lost quite a few pounds. Point proven.

Anyway, starving Fred of gluten hasn’t had the desired response I was after. Clearly I need to give him a much more severe beating, the softly softly approach is not going to win him over.

But whilst gluten-free living hasn’t given my proper thyroid functioning it has opened me up to a whole new world of grains and flours. Quinoa flour, chickpea flour, brown rice flour, coconut flour (!) who knew! All of which, I might add have enjoyed a pleasantly smooth trip through my digestive system without the usual halt in proceedings for a midnight bloating party.
I’ve also been surprisingly pleased with how easy it is to bake without gluten- sure the flavour and the texture is different- but isn’t that what we foodies are always after, something different? I’m sold. This is the kind of shortbread I want to stick a slab of cheddar on and call lunch. But lets be honest, Fred would take that chunk of cheese and find a nice little place for it to nestle down for eternity in my backside. Cheers, Fred- you useless old git.

English scones, revisited

Is it just me or have things cooled down quite dramatically in the past two weeks? I’m running in a long sleeve tee-shirt and sweats, my feet have demanded my Ugg boots to make a reappearance and I’ve eaten soup the past three days. I could be wrong, but something says that winter is poking it’s chilly head around the corner, to me.

Being that I’ve spend the past six weeks in West Virginia, around a bunch of English crew I’ve been feeling a few pangs for food from home, and not my Brooklyn home. Perhaps it’s the offerings of Galaxy chocolate and Walker’s Shortbread but I’m now dreaming about Yorkshire puddings, curries (because everyone knows they are practically English) and scones. With clotted cream and jam, of course.

I’ve made these before but I think you’ll forgive me once you make them. They make me feel ever so British, even in a place where people prefer biscuits and say things like hey, ya’ll. But don’t you go pronouncing them Sc-owns- it’s more like Skons where I come from. A sc-own is what you’ll find behind the glass in Starbucks- not an ounce of authenticity, I’ll have you know.

These have a crisp outer shell, which when you slice it open presents a soft buttery pillow of layers- the perfect bed for a slathering of clotted cream and jam. Oh, yes. Or perhaps I should say Yee-ha!

Bouchons au thon

I hate those mini quiches you get served at parties- the kind where there’s more pastry than filling and if that weren’t bad enough, the pastry is loaded with a multitude of ingredients none of which sound much like butter. But as much as I think it’s important to get the right pastry, I know all too well that eating quiches everyday is not good for the waistline or rearline for that matter. These are little pastry-less quiches, which you can by all means make bigger but I’m a big fan of the perfect bite. Make them bigger and you can serve them with a light salad for lunch or serve little bites warm at a party.

Now, don’t start getting all cross with me that I’ve omitted a rich butter crust and you can stop being snooty about the fact that I’ve used canned tuna. These little bites are full of flavour- and plenty of creamy fats like crème fraîche and gruyère cheese, so you won’t feel shortchanged that there’s no butter.

The recipe is adapted, but I kept the name because it sounds, and I think you’ll agree, so much more intriguing than pastry-less quiche or tuna quiche without the pastry. Buchons do make them sound a little hardwork but I can assure you that you will have these mixed in one bowl and in the oven in 10 minutes. Which is more than can be said for any quiche that demands a homemade crust. But I’ll let you be the judge.

Raspberry & hazelnut brownies

For any of you who were wondering-Don’s coping just fine without me. He’s been cooking up a storm at home- fish pie, beef stew with dumplings (with dumplings!), Thai green curry, the best pasta bake ever made in the world (the man’s own words) and these chocolate and raspberry brownies. It was not supposed to be this way. He was supposed to struggle and live off of the frozen packages that I left him. He was supposed to call for directions on reheating and sheepishly admit that yes, he did order another pizza in. He wasn’t supposed to thrive in my absence!

He made these brownies with a mate and in two weeks time he’s having a dinner party- a dinner party! I’m a afraid to come home! What if I don’t fit into my little slot in our home. What if we fight over who gets to cook dinner or whose spaghetti bolognase is better!? What if he decides he doesn’t need me around anymore!? Well, at least I know my little fish needs me- I know he’s not getting fed as often as he’d like.

The only comforting thing I can think of right now is these raspberry and hazelnut brownies. They are sensational, if I do say so myself. But what recipe with three bars of Green & Blacks 70% cocoa chocolate isn’t sensational? Melted down with butter so their fudgy and dense, bound with a smattering of toasted ground hazelnuts and then dotted with sweet and sour tasting raspberries and it’s hello, lover.

Can I even call these brownies? You probably won’t ever see them piled on a cake stand. No, no you’ll probably scoop it straight from the tin, and don’t be surprised if you feel an overwhelming urge to hide yourself away with the whole batch and a spoon. Best to whip these up with a partner in crime to prevent any rash behaviour.