I harvested the sweet potato fly after four days–that’s from Sunday to Thursday. The pot was just beginning to form small clumps of hard white yeast on the top of, and had tiny bubbles coming up and around the raft of sweet potatoes. The eggshell turned a weird color. Continue reading The sweet potato fly is done
Sorry for the silence. I’ve had a bit of a setback this past week.
My work is seasonal, and the week-before-last was one of those “hair-on-fire” weeks. My brain took the hit, as I worked in excess of 55 hours in five days. I thought I’d gotten through OK, was rather smug about it in fact, but I found myself in the middle of an MS episode last weekend. The symptoms started to cascade: loss of balance, chills and fever, symptoms of food poisoning (sure sign I have an episode in progress), and extreme fatigue. Continue reading What to do when your brain catches fire
This 18th-century porcelain figure of the goddess Ceres Is a real celebration of wheat. This Ceres loves wheat. Consider her hair. It’s an exuberant wheaty, red-carpety ‘do. As much as I appreciate the goddess of agriculture, grain, fertility and motherhood, I avoid some of her bounty, mostly grain. (And turnips.)
I hadn’t given beauty products much thought when I was diagnosed with Celiac, as I used mostly natural and organic lines, but here’s the story of why I changed my mind, and why I now take my own products to the hair salon. Continue reading Gluten-free hair care
I have a colleague at work who eats no gluten. She has told me this fact many times. She and her daughter are both ‘highly’ allergic. (her term for it)
One day, at a lunch meeting, I see her cramming — descriptive verb, not bitchy — a third of a wheat baguette into her mouth.
“I thought you were allergic to gluten,” I said, watching the carnage. Continue reading Gluten-skittish. Gluten-kittenish, maybe just . . . something you should talk to someone about. Like, a DOCTOR.
Giada de Laurentis currently has a short 3 minute spot on the Food Network, where she slices a good quality Italian salami and bakes it. Then she tops it with a spoonful of sour cream and a sprig of basil. Her version, is of course, exquisitely beautiful.
I feel guilty in calling this a “recipe.” First, it’s not my idea, second, it’s simple to the “duh” level, and I wish it had occurred to me to do this earlier. Continue reading Primal “not” crackers. Sal’ackers, baked salami . . . whatever.