Author Archives: Rochelle Karina

About Rochelle Karina

Mother Editor Writer Gun-Geekette Sometimes Poet Often Silly Sometimes Serious

Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies Go Gluten Free

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This is not a recipe blog…

Yeah, I know, big shocker for most of you, huh? Seriously, though I love to cook, I’m not about to throw down in the ring with the myriad of foodie bloggers out there. I lack the patience.

This, however, simply must be shared.

If you are like me, then your life has been impacted by at least one gluten-free diet. To be honest, we have enough people over on a frequent enough basis that the special dietary restrictions no longer even cause a raised eyebrow. I just start calculating which things I can and can’t cook.

One of these days, I’ll post about the biggest dietary challenge meal I’ve ever made. But that is a story for another time.

Today, I’m all about peanut butter chocolate chip cookies – that are gluten free.

Somewhere in my wild internet searchings I came across a recipe for these gluten-free gems that I promptly wrote down. Why? Because I seem to have gluten-free friends coming out of the woodwork and I like feeding them and making them smile.

Anyway… When I wrote it down, I did not note the website. I did, however, make a few tweaks. The original recipe called for all-natural, fresh-ground peanut butter (yeah, not happening!) and turbinado sugar (which I didn’t have handy). It also called for the cookies to bake at an unbelievably high heat.

So, I shamelessly tweaked. Since I had neither turbinado or sugar in the raw, I substituted brown sugar. And since I didn’t have fresh peanut butter, I substituted a good quality chunky PB. Hey, the recipe called for all that healthy stuff, then said, “Nestle Chocolate Chips” – WTF? And I lowered the temp… then lowered it again after the first batch, and again after the second.

The result? Holy crap, these are actually good! I mean, really, really, really good. And they disappeared. Half of them disappeared before I said the magic words, “gluten free.” Upon uttering that magical phrase, the rest vanished instantaneously.

The initial result led to further tweaks and some research (partly in a failed attempt to find the original). I did find similar recipes, but most include baking powder – which I don’t use, nor would I want to add that flavor or chemical element.

These come out quite nicely on their own. And while I would like to give inspiration credit where it is due, sadly I cannot. And, to be honest, the final result is significantly different than the original.

Now, without further ado… the recipe.

1 cup chunky peanut butter (the chunkier the better)
1/3 cup light brown sugar
1 egg, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (use vanilla paste for a real wow factor)
1/2 cup chocolate chips (semi-sweet give the cookies a stronger, less sweet character, milk chocolate chips make them into cookie-like versions of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup – just sayin’)
1/4 to 1/3 cup chopped peanuts, optional (careful – the peanuts I had in my cupboard had gluten. The package I had picked up to keep in my desk at work did not. Obviously, I used those)

Beat the egg with the vanilla and sugar, then stir in the peanut butter until well combined. Add the chocolate chips and nuts and stir well.

The “batter” seems really goopy until you add the chips. The nuts are not necessary, but I liked the extra level of crunch they gave. This is a tiny recipe – so double it if you want lots of cookies.

Scoop by spoonful onto parchment or silpat and slightly flatten the cookie. The first ones I tried to shape into balls, but the stuff was too sticky. I left a set as mounds, but they didn’t flatten or spread much. I basically scoop out and shape a cookie on the parchment.

Bake at 300 (and I mean 300, you could go down to 275 even!) until the cookies start to brown on the edges. About 12 minutes. Remove from oven and slide the entire parchment off the cookie sheet and onto a rack. Allow to cool.

These are almost untouchable while super hot – seriously, they will just fall apart. They are awesome – and very cohesive – when still barely warm and really good totally cooled.

I don’t know – since none of these have survived more than an hour after coming out of the oven – but I’m going to assume that these are like most gluten-free baked goods and don’t stand the test of time very well.

Photos will come as soon as I can actually get a picture before the darn things disappear.

Future notes:

These have spawned a desire to attempt peanut butter meringues. Just because.

I think if doubling the reicpe it would be possible to cut out one of the egg yolks.

If you like really sweet cookies, you might want to up the sugar content a bit, make sure to use milk chocolate chips and maybe even opt for a peanut butter that contains additional sugars. For me, these are the perfect sweetness level for PB cookies.

Oh yeah, and one other note: you’ll want milk!

Yum, spam!

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Did you know that if you look up “Spam” on Wikipedia, the first entry that will come up is about the evil pink stuff that comes in a can? Mind you, there is also an entry for “electronic” spam and an entire entry for disambiguation listing no fewer than 10 entries for the word, including a Weird Al song, another song by Save Ferris and a Monty Python sketch (all about the meat product). Who knew?

I’ve been running this blog (sometimes more successfully than others) and had my fingers in enough other places in the blogosphere that I’ve seen my fair share of spammy comments and messages. Most of them are fairly short and full of really bad English.

Today, (electronic) Spam has reached new heights… or would that be lows?

Sitting there in my spammy comments pile was a message that was so long I actually copied and pasted it to do a word count, just out of curiosity.

The verdict? 2,516. Holy shit.

And it included phrases like, “I am gonna watch out for brussels” and “perhaps you can write next articles regarding this article” and “We’re a bunch of volunteers starting a new scheme in our community. Your site provided us with valuable info to paintings on.”

Other fun phrases like, “you hit the nail on the highest” and the incredibly confusing “Sick no doubt come more earlier once more since precisely the same just about a lot frequently inside case you shield this hike” pepper the entry.

And it goes on.

Of course, it’s a typical spam entry, with a site linked, naturally. I won’t link them here, but suffice to say if you stick a 1 and an 800 in front of the words cheap and tools followed by a dot com, you’d find the charming culprit. Or at least, the link that was supposed to be made.

I’m always surprised that there are still people out there trying to use this method to boost their search engine rankings.

Yikes folks! Wake up and smell the virtual java! This shit has gone the way of the dodo bird!

A reflection on Mother’s Day

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I’m usually one of those cook types who turns out a really good, really nice looking meal, and then remembers the camera after everyone has eaten.

Or I’m one of those photographers who takes pictures of the early process, but gets so caught up in the cooking (and socializing with friends) that I never get the final picture of the completed recipe.

Every now and then, my cook side and my shutterbug side actually coincide and I take pictures of the yumminess I create. I do tend to think my company is more important than immortalizing the food I create.

It’s a rare thing.

We had friends over for dinner and I actually remembered to take a picture (all hail the iPhone!) and posted it to Facebook. Then I remembered the breakfast picture from a couple of weeks before…

Then I started reflecting on how our table is rarely set for just two. Even without kids around, it’s not uncommon for us to be putting 4, 6 or 8 places out. On some weekend mornings, it may require buffet style because the number of hungry mouths outnumbers the number of places at the table.

I realized that our table is a gathering place for loved ones – friends and family alike. Love, laughter and lots of food are served at our home. And we both like it that way.

And then I realized something else – I’ve turned into my mother.

That woman could cook! And no matter how many mouths there were (often unexpected numbers of them as most of us brought our friends over) there always seemed to be more than enough food.

Her table was a gathering place – a place of friendship and love, laughter and good food… huh… sounds familiar. But I guess it runs in the family… Granny’s house was always the same, a crowded table, lots of food, and lots of friends and family.

My mother, and my grandmother are both gone – but I’ll wish them both a happy Mother’s Day anyway, because those two remarkable women taught me so much about what is really important in life… and what is not.

And to all my friends and family who are mommies – Happy Mother’s Day!

An open letter to women’s clothing designers… Rant On!

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Butt Jeans

Yep, that’s my ass…

Dear clothing designers,

In my life, I have been everything from really thin to the border of really big (I never quite crossed into that territory). Along the way, I’ve had friends of various sizes and almost all of them had the same complaint. 

It seems that most women’s clothing is designed for pre-pubescent hips and post-surgical breasts on an otherwise stick-figure body. In other words, no matter what her size, if a woman has curves, or doesn’t have skinny arms or legs, or happens to have an ass or hips, she is not going to find clothing that fits well. 

As a young woman, my measurements could easily fit into all the cute, teeny-tiny clothes that were in all the stores. There was only one problem – I had this thing called an ass. 

You see, even when skinny, I had a butt. Call it a bubble butt, ghetto booty, badonkadonk, or whatever the hell else you will, the fact of the matter is, my ass was always, well… an asset. 

That is, until it came time to try on clothes.

Low slung bikini bottoms? Look great from the front. Show incredible crack, or go massively into the crack from behind. 

Short skirt? OK, just realize it’s much shorter in the back because it’s got to get itself around that protrusion called your ass. 

Tight fittin’ jeans? Yeah, ok, sure. If you like the look of a smashed ass. (And hey Levi’s? About those “bold curve” jeans you recently came out with? You’re missing the boat on those things. Really. They’re still pretty straight up and down, and the largest size – labeled a 12, by the way – are comparable to what other jeans makers call an 8. Screw you!) 

You’d think the problem would have gotten easier with a little meat on the rest of my bones. 

You’d be wrong. 

Once I reached double-digit sizes on boobs and hip, I realized my waist had apparently not gotten the message that it too was supposed to expand. Now I could choose clothing that was too loose in the waist, or too tight on the hips and boobs. Or I could go to the added expense of having things tailored. 

A little more weight and the problem became even more pronounced. Designers apparently believe that women sprout mountainous breasts and mammoth bellies along with their curves. Things that were once just loose in the waist now began to fit the hip, but have these strange, almost maternity-like bags across my middle and the tops hung like I was wearing my big sister’s clothing.  

And while we’re on this fun little rant, can I ask what the fuck is the problem with designers of larger sizes? Just because I’m not a size 2 does not mean I want to look like Omar the Tent Maker is my personal clothier. Really. I think you need to go back and watch The Muppets. Think about it. Did you ever see Miss Piggy rocking a muumuu? No? That’s because she’d karate chop you into non-existence for even suggesting that her fabulousness should be draped in acres of loose-fitting fabric. 

All kidding aside (wait, strike that – I was not kidding about looking at Miss Piggy!) 

Mine is not the first rant on the subject. Nor will it be the last. I don’t know too many women who can say, “Oh, I just walk into the store and grab a size __ and it fits.” Nearly every woman I know has similar bitches about the clothing industry – clothes don’t accommodate their breasts or their hips. Clothes don’t accommodate the fact that they have the body of a woman, not a pre-pubescent boy with breasts. 

I realize that women come in all shapes and sizes and that makes creating and marketing a line of clothing difficult, but really, something’s gotta give here.

Sincerely, 

A very frustrated shopper

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Please don’t call me a foodie!

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Pineapple Curry Shrimp

I used to smile and offer a little chuckle whenever a friend would accuse me of being a foodie. And yes, I meant “accuse” because the statement usually came along like this:

“Well, it’s not up to your foodie standards…” or “Oh, I know, you’re such a foodie you don’t eat that stuff…”

Yeah, ok, I prefer local and/or organic foods. I like my food to be thought out, well-seasoned, properly prepared and plated attractively. I believe food should stimulate all of my senses and that good food is best when shared with good friends. Given a choice between taking a risk on an unknown local spot or the predictable mediocrity of a national chain, umm… well, it’s no choice. I’ll take the risk, every time.

And yeah, ok, I like to cook. I prefer to do my shopping at the farmer’s market and I opt for quality ingredients. Sure, most of the stuff I make is a bit higher end than the typical home cook and a good amount of it could be plunked onto just about any restaurant menu without too much refinement. Yes, I know how to use ingredients like fennel, cardamom and umpteen flavors of sea salt. But no, I don’t think that any and every dish is improved by the addition of them, or any of the other painfully-hip au currant ingredients out there.

I once had a meal where every item, and I do mean every item, included truffle salt. What could have been a wonderful experience where the addition of truffle salt to a signature dish made the whole meal pop became overdone, boring and predictable.

Yes, I love taking snap shots of the food I make and the friends at my table. No, I am not at every meal fussing at everyone to not touch their food while I decide if the fork looks better on the plate or on the napkin (witness the fact that I frequently forget to take pictures – my guests are more important!)

Yes, I love creating new dishes and I’ve even been known to succumb to a cool food trend or three. At the moment, I’m rather fond of tiny desserts to be honest. Just last night I turned out an amazing tapioca pudding that was served in tiny glasses and topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

Note I did not say that I served: miniature nutmeg-infused vanilla-bean tapioca cordials, topped with sliced, organic strawberries, a sprinkling of Turbinado sugar and a dollop of hand-whipped cream then dusted with Ceylon cinnamon.

Though all of those things would have been true, I think it’s ridiculous to go to those extremes unless you are selling the dish on your restaurant menu or doing it for some special occasion (and that’s pushing it!) And no, I didn’t take a picture of the little things.

If you want to accuse me of something, then say I over simplify things. I’ve been known to plate up a restaurant-worthy meal and poo-poo the ensuing praise with “Oh, it’s just a simple…” insert whatever it is.

Or maybe you should accuse me of believing that people and conversations are more important than whatever culinary delight is in front of us.

Yes, I love good food. It’s a passion of mine. And yes, I’ve even jokingly referred to myself as a foodie. But I simply don’t understand the current state of food snobbery (and that’s what it is) masquerading as “foodie” status today.

It’s pretentious and ridiculous.

It’s guaranteed to garner eye rolls from just about anyone who has been around long enough to see a few food trends come and go.

And the biggest thing to remember? It’s highly likely that somewhere along the line, something else is going to come along that gets in the way of your ability or willingness to indulge in excessive foodie behavior. It may be kids it may be a job that requires a lot of travel. It may be a relationship. It may just be time. And when that happens, do you really want to have to contact all of your non-foodie friends (assuming they haven’t abandoned you) and apologize to them for being a pretentious ass?

Oh, and if you are going to do the apologizing thing, may I suggest something incredibly simple like a great bottle of wine and some flowers to go along with it? No one will take that sort of apology seriously if it’s accompanied by macarons that you hand-ground the almond flour to make.

I don’t care how good the macarons are!