When we first moved into this house, Lucy was only 3. She turned 4 here a few months later, the party a spill of children in their swim suits and their hair floating out behind them as they ran, laughing.
This was the summer of blueberry pie around here. We’re big on peaches and blackberries, plums and strawberries too.
Around here, there’s only one refrain in the morning: “Can I have a peach, please?” The peaches are lovely and round, ripe and redolent.
These gluten-free blueberry waffles are a near constant in our house this summer. So easy for a big summer morning breakfast. Before I turned 50 last week, I had survived the normal amount of heartbreaks and disappointments, the way every human does.
Certain moments of my life, I couldn’t imagine ever turning 50. It seemed impossibly far away — and very much old — when I was a child and in my 20s.
Almost 20 years ago now, I sat in a darkened comedy club, watching my friend Sharon do a standup routine.
The longer I live on this sweet-sleepy full-of-opinions and people-who-want-to-be-hippies wacko rural island in the middle of Puget Sound, the more interested I am in what is happening here.
Do you remember loving cowboy cookies when you were a kid? But now that you have to be gluten-free and dairy-free, you think you will never eat them again?
I have to admit this: I’m a plain cake girl. While I feel a sort of awe for many-tiered cakes with smooth frosting swooped up toward the edges, I feel a bit tired when I look at them too.
For the past 11 years, and 10 of them with Dan, I have been posting recipes on this site. Together, we’ve created hundreds and hundreds of meals we love.
It’s hard to even know what to say this week. The shooting in Orlando has left us all speechless. (Except for the brilliant Lin-Manuel Miranda, whose acceptance speech in the form of a sonnet he wrote that day is about the only response that has resonated with me all week. He announced this morning that there are now t-shirts with part of that speech available for sale, with profits going to Equality Cares in Florida, to help the families of victims.) I’m going to restrain myself saying anything more about this, for the moment.
We live in a place I affectionally call Wacko Island. (It’s Vashon, actually.) This place in the middle of Puget Sound, only a 15-minute ferry ride away from Seattle, feels so far away to most mainlanders.
This is a sponsored post for Mission gluten-free flour tortillas. We eagerly said yes to this sponsorship, for which we have been paid.
This post is sponsored by Align, the gluten-free probiotic we wrote about recently. We were paid for our work but the opinions and words are our own. Summer’s coming.
This gluten-free honey buckwheat cake is also free of dairy and refined sugar. Right after a rainy baseball game, we all returned home with mud on our shoes and grins on our faces.
Bean bake casserole for dinner? We’re excited here. Quite a few things have changed around here in the last decade.
Freshly, a gluten-free fresh meal delivery service, is our latest sponsor. The opinions and words used here are our own. As we all seem to grow busier, cooking every meal from scratch, made with whole foods, seems more and more difficult.
As soon as I could grasp that it was people who wrote the books I loved — real people! not magicians!
Gluten-free rhubarb pie can be yours, if you want it. And you don’t need strawberries. Yesterday afternoon, there was a warm breeze floating in from the west.
I don’t write about him the way I used to: breathless, giggling, everything a discovery. The words tumbled out of me then, urgent, since I had to throw them down on the page, as fast as I could, still not believing my luck.