Pass Over the Gluten

As a devout heathen, religious holidays often pass by me without creating so much as a radar blip. The exception is Christmas, of course, my absolute favoritest celebration of all the year and to which much of December is happily given over for planning, cooking, socializing, and other festive purposes.

This year for some reason, despite my pagan tendencies, I have been keenly aware of the approach of Passover. I suppose I am more than usually alert to food in the media these days - and Passover seems to have a lot more culinary brouhaha attached to it than I would have previously thought possible.

Two news flashes caught my eye in the past few days that had particular relevance to my gluten freedom-fighting.

The first concerned quinoa, an ingredient with which I have a complicated relationship. It so transpires that I share my ambivalence (although not my reasoning) with some pretty heavy-weight intellectuals these days, as there's currently a lot of debate in rabbinical circles about whether or not this South American chenopod is kosher. Astonishingly enough, quinoa was unknown to the ancient Israelites and its absence from the kashrut's list of proscribed grains is consequently problematic. A number of deep thinkers are, like, 'Who do we think we're kidding?' and puzzlement and lively disputation have commenced. I imagine that this could go on for years.

In my view, however, this controversy is as nothing compared to the sinister politics of the Current Quinoa Case. Kosher or not, and despite its awesome nutritional value and amusing texture, I am boycotting the seeds until such time as the Powers That Be sort out the Bolivian Pricing Problem and thus solve the Childhood Hunger Situation in Salinas de Garci Mendoza. Only then will I again be able to eat my favorite Annapurna Pilaf with a clear conscience.

The second current-events alert came late last week via DMR, who e-mailed me that there was a likely-looking g/f recipe for carrot cake in our local rag. DMR is an excellent scout for these sorts of things, refusing as I do to buy dead-tree newspapers. Sure enough, the online edition did not include the recipe, but I eventually tracked it down in the Seattle Times. That e-paper in turn revealed that the cake had originally appeared in a cookbook published by a certain doyenne of Jewish cookery, who shall remain anonymous in the interest of protecting myself from the inevitable lawsuits that will surely follow the disclosures to come.

I will conceal the recipe's origin with my usual rhyming nomenclature and refer to it as the Carrot of Last Resort.

The Last Resort was gluten-free because, as I am newly aware, the Passover seder may not include any chametz - that is, the five grains (wheat, oats, rye, etc.) deemed to leaven eighteen minutes after they're hit by moisture. I guess cookbook authors work overtime at this time of year, trying to come up with tasty desserts made from matzo and gluten substitutes such as nuts and veg. Oh, if only they'd asked me - I could have told them they were on a hopeless quest!

Nonetheless, this recipe looked propitious so I decided to give it a whirl while my camembert curds were coagulating. Sir helpfully cautioned that this multi-tasking rather defeated the zen-like meditation that camembert-production is supposed to engender, but I pointed out that I was using a hand-grater for the carrots, thus rendering the kitchen's calm uninterrupted by the roaring of the food processor. He harumphed and retreated to his favorite chair and laptop, washing his hands of my foolishness.

I won't detail the recipe, since I would recommend it to nobody. It consisted, essentially, of sweetened beaten egg whites, into which the hapless cook was required to fold ground almonds or hazelnuts; grated carrots; and a [very] modest quantity of spice. I had thought on first cursory perusal that the cake would be something like a carrot-flavoured dacquoise, but I realized after I'd mixed it that the batter was more of an angel-food cake consistency - not enough nuts for a crispy/chewy product, not by a long shot. The destructions specified that the Last Resort was to be baked in a 10-inch spring-form pan and I was a bit dubious that it would set properly given the substance in my mixing bowl.

I was right to be incredulous. The recipe didn't work at all.

The cake didn't cook completely in the middle before the edges were brown and done, and it glopped when I scraped it out of the pan (I think a tube pan would have solved this problem, but I'll never know since I have no intention of experimenting further). The carrots still tasted raw, the nuts tasted like nothing at all, and the whole thing was watery and insipid. The Squid wasn't home at the time, but I'm fairly sure he would have refused a slice on principle. Sir and I tasted two bites each (one of sodden middle, one of overcooked crust) and gave up in disgust.

In fact, it was quite ekldik and barely warranted being called a kukhn at all. Sir, who had earlier (and rather rashly, in my opinion) promised a slice of the cake to his SOFAC (Seder-Observing Friend and Colleague) was forced to e-mail an apology note, reporting that no offering would be leaving my kitchen because the remains of my project had been consigned to the bin. The SOFAC's almost instantaneous reply was disappointed but resigned. I quote: 'Welcome to my world.'

Left with the remains of a gargantuan bag of organic carrots I quickly whipped up some Carrot Marmalade, as a sort of consolation prize, while Sunday's dinner was in the oven. The recipe is quick, easy, and to the point: take 2 cups of grated carrots, the juice and zest of one lemon, the juice and zest of one orange, two cloves, and 1 and 1/2 cups of sugar. Mix the ingredients together and let them sit for an hour. Bring to a boil and cook until the magic temperature of 220 deg F is reached. Remove from the heat, add a splash of vanilla, and let cool for a little before removing the cloves, pouring into jars, and processing for ten minutes if you feel the need (I always do). You get two 8 oz. jars of bright orange love. 

The result is gluten-free and delicious - not to mention very, very geshmak.

Next up: I show off my cave and discuss aging issues