It has been a frantic few days here a chez Fractured Amy, what with all the myriad post-Irene tasks and responsibilities that have presented themselves for my attention. I've had two flooded basements with which to deal (I'm currently house-sitting for the 'rents, who decided that - with a hurricane on its way - fleeing the country seemed like a Wise Idea); a yard that looks like, well, like it was hit by a hurricane, actually; and - for some reason - a lab where the electricity is choosing to go off and on at odd moments throughout the day, requiring my constant vigilance.
Why the power should be fluctuating now when it managed to survive the entire weekend without incident, I have no idea. I blame rogue forces in the troposphere.
I list these agenda items not because I'm complaining, you understand, although complaining is undeniably one of my favorite past-times. No, I'm merely explaining that current exigencies are interfering somewhat with my carefully orchestrated existence as a gluten guerrilla par excellence. Not only have I been unable to engage in any exciting culinary experiments recently, but I have also been denied the opportunity for my usual weekly lunch preparations, requiring me to depend on cereal bars and pre-washed salad greens for my noon-time sustenance.
Normally, this would not be too terribly onerous. I dearly love my Kind cranberry and almond bars (all natural! certified gluten free! dairy free! loaded with anti-oxidants! don't taste like packing material!) but my box of fifty, purchased wholesale from one of the internet's less objectionable health-food sites, became water-logged and icky during the recent deluge. In addition, actually reaching the box on its Metro shelf under the front step requires fording through quite a bit of standing water, and you know what they say - water may be deeper than it appears! Fearful that I might trip over something and accidentally submerge - bubbling quietly, never to be seen again - I decided to find an alternative convenience lunch to tide me over.
Tide me over. Get it? The aqueous conditions in our basement are no doubt putting me in a nautical frame of mind.
I presented myself in our supermarket's cereal/nutrition/sports bar aisle, conveniently located near the organic/socialist/bleeding heart department where I do so much of my shopping these days. There were literally hundreds of possibilities from which to make my selection! Wherever to begin?
Well, if there's one quality honed by gluten freedom-fighting, it's clarity of purpose. I was immediately able to discount roughly seven-eighths of the offerings, since they were visibly bulging with the sorts of grains I avoid, rather as a small craft avoids winds greater than Force 6 on the Beaufort scale.
I was subsequently able to eliminate about half the choices remaining, since they were sullied by coconut - my least favorite ingredient of all time and a troublingly common constituent in these sorts of products.
This left roughly four possibilities. Exhausted by my trials of late (see above) and the examination of so much fine print, I seized a couple from the middle of the pack, noting with some satisfaction that in addition to being labelled all natural and gluten free in bold letters right on the front label, they also contained chocolate and peanut butter, two substances with which it is difficult to go wrong. The fact that the manufacturers promised they would help me lose weight (my size 00 jeans are getting a shade tight, these days - I blame adverse atmospheric conditions) was an added bonus.
Tied by wayward electrons to my sputtering tests all day today, I decided to eat one of my new finds for lunch. To protect the guilty, let's call it a Think Again - pronounced as it might be on the Dukes of Hazzard, where again rhymes with belaying pin (should Bo, Daisy May, Jesse et al ever find themselves at sea).
First, I examined the label in the cold light of day. The first thing that came to my attention was the fact that each of these astonishing adipose-shedding miracle bars contained 230 calories, 80 of which were from fat. Now, I'm no expert, but that seemed like a lot considering the thing only weighted sixty grams. A quick trawl of trusted resources confirmed my suspicion: the equivalent serving size of one of my favorite nougat-filled candy bars contains only 11 calories more (easily burned through one minute's leisurely jump-roping, should I feel so inclined) and slightly less fat!
While we're on the subject of comparison, I should point out that neither contains anything significant in the way of vitamins (which my Kind bars possess in abundance), but my candy bar exceeds the Again's stores of calcium and fiber. My sweet treat does admittedly boast less protein, but then so does my Kind bar. No feelings of guilt there.
Finally, since you know what a stickler I am for the Trade Description Act, I am compelled to ask what is 'all natural' about the Again's whey protein isolate, sugar alcohol (huh?), maltitol, soy lecithin, or 'coating'? My candy bar has some suspicious ingredients too, of course (although fewer than you might suppose), but since it is making no claims for itself other than pure deliciousness, I am unmoved.
But all this would be as nothing if I'd found a tasty substitute for my Kind bars. A bit of variety to brighten my routine, a welcome change of pace, something to recommend to other gluten guerrillas suddenly finding themselves with too few leftovers for a tasty brown bag lunch.
And more virtuous-feeling than a candy bar, whatever the facts might be.
So I tasted it.
And guess what?
The Again went straight in the bin.
Next up: starving upon my return home at work-day's end, I unwrap a bar of Lindt milk chocolate and eat several squares spread thick with Banoffee sauce.
Showing posts with label Kind cranberry and almond bars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kind cranberry and almond bars. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Après moi, le déluge
Campers, you may not have heard - but there's a hurricane headed my way!
I have spent the last 24 hours or so feverishly preparing for every foreseeable circumstance.
The bathtubs are sparkly clean and ready to receive their last-minute fillings of cold water. In addition, twenty gallons of bottled water for drinking and cooking are lined up neatly in the basement. The ice cube maker in the freezer has been going full tilt, preparing chilling fodder for the insulated chests which will harbor milk and other perishables when the electricity goes off, as the weather-prediction panjandrums cheerfully and tirelessly inform us it inevitably will. After the fresh moo runs out, I have a few cans of sweetened condensed milk standing by for our coffee and whatever else strikes our fancy. There are laid in bottles and bottles of alcohol (for medicinal and antiseptic purposes, of course); about six pounds of chocolate and roughly three hundred jars of home-made preserves. The Squid has sufficient personal supplies of iced tea, apple juice, and chocolate chip cookies to last the duration, even if through some freak downdraft or cyclonic inversion he is trapped in his bedroom for several days, unable to make his way downstairs to the kitchen where the more conventional supplies are warehoused.
Although I have no fear of the house blowing or floating away, weighed down as it is by the Wolf (the thing has a mass equivalent to that of a small pickup truck), there is some dispute as to whether my beautiful cooker will function without electricity. Some Folks in the Know assert that it's only the electric starters that stop working, while Others assure me that the supply of gas is automatically cut off as a safety precaution. Since our power fails with some regularity up here on our hill, I am at a loss to explain why I myself am ignorant about the Truth of the Situation. I shall report on the Wolf's blackout operations in due course, but to be on the safe side I have thoroughly tested the portable shabu-shabu burner and placed it on a convenient countertop together with twelve cans of butane (roughly 24 hours' worth of high heat) ready and willing to do their bit.
In the process of readying the family for the upcoming Apocalypse, however, I have discovered that in the disaster-preparedness arena - as in so many others - gluten freedom-fighters are at a distinct disadvantage.
Take as evidence the imperative to stock the household with three days' worth of food, minimum. Easy as anything for the gluten lovers among us: sandwiches with fresh fillings for as long as they hold out, switching to peanut butter and/or Nutella on the fourth or fifth day; followed in due course by instant ramen, Kraft macaroni and cheese, and tinned soup (many cans of which contain gluten, for shame!). The Boys could live in this manner quite happily, I believe, for months and months - in fact, I believe most college students subsist on such a diet for years with few obvious ill effects.
I, of course, couldn't eat a bowl of instant ramen (not even the tasty gourmet variety from Myojo Foods in sunny Sendagaya, Shibuya-ku) if my life depended upon it. No, my backup rations (apart from the above-mentioned gin, whisky, apricot preserves, and Lindt special recipe) are Kind cranberry and almond bars (all natural! certified gluten free! dairy free! loaded with anti-oxidants! don't taste like packing material!); Heinz baked beans (my favorite under any circumstances and only available from the fancy foreign food aisle at Wegmans); and a good deal of positive thinking.
After all - it might never happen!
Next up: I emerge after the storm to survey the damage and re-boot my computer.
I have spent the last 24 hours or so feverishly preparing for every foreseeable circumstance.
The bathtubs are sparkly clean and ready to receive their last-minute fillings of cold water. In addition, twenty gallons of bottled water for drinking and cooking are lined up neatly in the basement. The ice cube maker in the freezer has been going full tilt, preparing chilling fodder for the insulated chests which will harbor milk and other perishables when the electricity goes off, as the weather-prediction panjandrums cheerfully and tirelessly inform us it inevitably will. After the fresh moo runs out, I have a few cans of sweetened condensed milk standing by for our coffee and whatever else strikes our fancy. There are laid in bottles and bottles of alcohol (for medicinal and antiseptic purposes, of course); about six pounds of chocolate and roughly three hundred jars of home-made preserves. The Squid has sufficient personal supplies of iced tea, apple juice, and chocolate chip cookies to last the duration, even if through some freak downdraft or cyclonic inversion he is trapped in his bedroom for several days, unable to make his way downstairs to the kitchen where the more conventional supplies are warehoused.
Although I have no fear of the house blowing or floating away, weighed down as it is by the Wolf (the thing has a mass equivalent to that of a small pickup truck), there is some dispute as to whether my beautiful cooker will function without electricity. Some Folks in the Know assert that it's only the electric starters that stop working, while Others assure me that the supply of gas is automatically cut off as a safety precaution. Since our power fails with some regularity up here on our hill, I am at a loss to explain why I myself am ignorant about the Truth of the Situation. I shall report on the Wolf's blackout operations in due course, but to be on the safe side I have thoroughly tested the portable shabu-shabu burner and placed it on a convenient countertop together with twelve cans of butane (roughly 24 hours' worth of high heat) ready and willing to do their bit.
In the process of readying the family for the upcoming Apocalypse, however, I have discovered that in the disaster-preparedness arena - as in so many others - gluten freedom-fighters are at a distinct disadvantage.
Take as evidence the imperative to stock the household with three days' worth of food, minimum. Easy as anything for the gluten lovers among us: sandwiches with fresh fillings for as long as they hold out, switching to peanut butter and/or Nutella on the fourth or fifth day; followed in due course by instant ramen, Kraft macaroni and cheese, and tinned soup (many cans of which contain gluten, for shame!). The Boys could live in this manner quite happily, I believe, for months and months - in fact, I believe most college students subsist on such a diet for years with few obvious ill effects.
I, of course, couldn't eat a bowl of instant ramen (not even the tasty gourmet variety from Myojo Foods in sunny Sendagaya, Shibuya-ku) if my life depended upon it. No, my backup rations (apart from the above-mentioned gin, whisky, apricot preserves, and Lindt special recipe) are Kind cranberry and almond bars (all natural! certified gluten free! dairy free! loaded with anti-oxidants! don't taste like packing material!); Heinz baked beans (my favorite under any circumstances and only available from the fancy foreign food aisle at Wegmans); and a good deal of positive thinking.
After all - it might never happen!
Next up: I emerge after the storm to survey the damage and re-boot my computer.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Superpowers
As I have faithfully recorded elsewhere, I generally do not leave the house without backup provisions in the eventuality that I am stranded in a part of the world where the only food available is loaded with gluten. My rations of choice are Kind cranberry and almond bars (all natural! certified gluten free! dairy free! loaded with anti-oxidants! doesn't taste like packing material!), an entire box of which I purchased in anticipation of my trip to the UK.
For two reasons, it never made it into my suitcase.
Sadly, my discovery is lacking in certain essential characteristics. Whereas I rely on my Kind bars to provide innumerable health benefits - including life eternal and riches beyond my wildest imaginings - their Brit equivalents are rather more modest in their claims:
I hope I don't regret leaving my trusted standbys at home.
It has always been my plan, after all, to live forever.
For two reasons, it never made it into my suitcase.
- This holiday involves several train journeys and I wanted to pack as little as possible. Of course, since I like to be prepared for any and all eventualities, my idea of 'packing light' makes most seasoned travellers guffaw with disbelief. A sudden blizzard in August? No worries - I've got gloves, hats and scarves at the ready. We receive an unexpected invitation to a fancy dinner right after taking a 5-mile walk in the rain? I have four pairs of shoes standing by. Snake bite? Covered! But at least I saved a bit of room by leaving my cereal bars behind.
- I considered that the UK is civilized place where g/f snacks must be easily available, rendering my packing of same a bit redundant. Anyway, I love grocery shopping when abroad. How else would I know that there's such a thing as kipper-flavored potato chips?
Sadly, my discovery is lacking in certain essential characteristics. Whereas I rely on my Kind bars to provide innumerable health benefits - including life eternal and riches beyond my wildest imaginings - their Brit equivalents are rather more modest in their claims:
I hope I don't regret leaving my trusted standbys at home.
It has always been my plan, after all, to live forever.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Game for Gluten
After a long morning's game drive, during which we saw many things ...
... I was happy to belly up to an excellent lunch of beef curry, samp, and beans. Not wanting to be rude to my hosts, I gobbled up the proffered side-dish, ignorant of both its origin and constitution. Better known as mngqusho (not a hugely helpful description, I'm sure most Pennsylvanians would agree), my samp was undeniably exotic but horrifyingly grain-like. I was terrified that I'd ingested whole spoonfuls of gluten!
Fearing the worst, I raced to the internet as soon as the day's excitement was over and discovered, to my great delight and relief, that samp is the same thing as cracked hominy - again, an ingredient with which I am not over-familiar, but am confident is made from corn, like putu or mealies.
That makes me four-for-four gluten-free days and counting!
I might not need my Kind cranberry and almond bars (all natural! certified gluten-free! dairy-free! loaded with anti-oxidants! doesn't taste like packing material!) after all.
... I was happy to belly up to an excellent lunch of beef curry, samp, and beans. Not wanting to be rude to my hosts, I gobbled up the proffered side-dish, ignorant of both its origin and constitution. Better known as mngqusho (not a hugely helpful description, I'm sure most Pennsylvanians would agree), my samp was undeniably exotic but horrifyingly grain-like. I was terrified that I'd ingested whole spoonfuls of gluten!
Fearing the worst, I raced to the internet as soon as the day's excitement was over and discovered, to my great delight and relief, that samp is the same thing as cracked hominy - again, an ingredient with which I am not over-familiar, but am confident is made from corn, like putu or mealies.
That makes me four-for-four gluten-free days and counting!
I might not need my Kind cranberry and almond bars (all natural! certified gluten-free! dairy-free! loaded with anti-oxidants! doesn't taste like packing material!) after all.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Lekker on the Veldt
Well, Campers - this time tomorrow I will be bouncing over the Atlantic Ocean, strapped into one of South African Airways' Airbuses on my way to the Western Cape. DMR and I are finally off to the land of boerewors, Malva pudding, Amarula, pinotage, and ostrich curry.
To my knowledge, only one of these delicacies has wheat in it.
This is my first big trip since my gluten freedom-fighting began back in September and I am a little bit trepidatious about how it is all going to wash out, food-wise. Fortunately, South Africa (well, the entire Sub-Saharan region of the continent, I suspect, although I can't speak from direct experience) is a place that lends itself to gluten and lactose-free cuisine. Lean protein and veg are generally the order of the day, accompanied by starches such as rice, potatoes, and mealies - a sort of white corn pudding like grits or polenta that is especially delicious as an accompaniment to 'bok tenderloins and warthog ribs grilled on the braai.
Milk is not hugely evident in the country's traditional cuisine, although Cape Town has a lively cafe culture with lattes available on every street corner. Cheese-making is on the rise - particularly goats cheese, of course, artisanal versions of which are fast becoming a specialty product of the Winelands, which I will be lucky enough to visit for the first time during this trip.
As a backup, I am taking one box of Kind cranberry and almond bars (all natural! certified gluten-free! dairy-free! loaded with antioxidants! doesn't taste like packing material!) in case I find myself stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing in sight but crocodile sandwiches and bobotie (which is too bad, as I love bobotie: sadly, its sauce is thickened with bread).
Of course, I won't suddenly drop down dead if I indulge in a slice of melktert, roosterkoek or some koeksisters. I have, after all, been an extremely good girl and ingested no gluten (knowingly, at least) since my Jordan almond episode back in December. My bones will probably not turn to dust after one wildebeeskastaiing, although the mental defeat may be too much to bear. I guess I'll just wait and see how the krakelinge crumbles.
The Tasting Team will no doubt be indulging in all manner of gluten-filled delights while I am gone and best of luck to them. This is Fractured Amy officially signing off for two weeks of sun, fun, and fynbos.
To my knowledge, only one of these delicacies has wheat in it.
This is my first big trip since my gluten freedom-fighting began back in September and I am a little bit trepidatious about how it is all going to wash out, food-wise. Fortunately, South Africa (well, the entire Sub-Saharan region of the continent, I suspect, although I can't speak from direct experience) is a place that lends itself to gluten and lactose-free cuisine. Lean protein and veg are generally the order of the day, accompanied by starches such as rice, potatoes, and mealies - a sort of white corn pudding like grits or polenta that is especially delicious as an accompaniment to 'bok tenderloins and warthog ribs grilled on the braai.
Milk is not hugely evident in the country's traditional cuisine, although Cape Town has a lively cafe culture with lattes available on every street corner. Cheese-making is on the rise - particularly goats cheese, of course, artisanal versions of which are fast becoming a specialty product of the Winelands, which I will be lucky enough to visit for the first time during this trip.
As a backup, I am taking one box of Kind cranberry and almond bars (all natural! certified gluten-free! dairy-free! loaded with antioxidants! doesn't taste like packing material!) in case I find myself stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing in sight but crocodile sandwiches and bobotie (which is too bad, as I love bobotie: sadly, its sauce is thickened with bread).
Of course, I won't suddenly drop down dead if I indulge in a slice of melktert, roosterkoek or some koeksisters. I have, after all, been an extremely good girl and ingested no gluten (knowingly, at least) since my Jordan almond episode back in December. My bones will probably not turn to dust after one wildebeeskastaiing, although the mental defeat may be too much to bear. I guess I'll just wait and see how the krakelinge crumbles.
The Tasting Team will no doubt be indulging in all manner of gluten-filled delights while I am gone and best of luck to them. This is Fractured Amy officially signing off for two weeks of sun, fun, and fynbos.
Unless the blogging compulsion overwhelms me.
One can never tell what will happen When Rhinos Attack.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Two Degrees of Separation
I have written previously how Carla Hall, of winning pot pie and lettuce wrap fame, and I are the best of friends. I mean this, of course, in the sense that I know somebody who met her once. I am reliably informed that she is every bit as classy and terrific as she appears (well, appeared, sadly) on Top Chef.
Handkerchief clutched in my trembling hand, I was perusing what the Bravo blogs had to say about her untimely departure from the Bahamas when I discovered from The Heimlich Maneuver that Carla's Alchemy catering company in Silver Springs, MD is currently being rebranded.
Intrigued, I clicked on the link thoughtfully provided and discovered, to my dismay, that Alchemy by Carla Hall is now a cookie-making business! What an insult! What an outrage! I found this commercial decision depressing for many, many reasons, not least of which is the tragic fact that I haven't eaten a cookie worth the name in five months. I felt the betrayal deeply and was forced to eat a KIND cranberry/almond bar (all natural! certified gluten-free! dairy-free! loaded with anti-oxidants! doesn't taste like packing material!) to restore my equilibrium.
Naturally, the news wounded me to the core. But ever curious - like a moth approaching one of those horrific electric zappers - and in a mood of desperate self-punishment more usually associated with Dostoevsky or Ingmar Bergman, I clicked on Cookie Collection to read Carla's tantalizing descriptions of little bundles of love made with organic sugar, European-style butter, couverture chocolate, artisanal cheeses, seasonal fruits, and gluten-laden flour. Sniffling softly, I prepared to tap on the little x and close the window forever when something drew my attention to the how-to-order section at the bottom of the page.
What did I spy with my little eye?
Pecan shortbread with vanilla salt; Hawaiian wedding cookies; and oatmeal, cranberry, and white chocolate creations are available gluten-free upon request!
How could I have doubted her? My heroine proves her worth once again.
Handkerchief clutched in my trembling hand, I was perusing what the Bravo blogs had to say about her untimely departure from the Bahamas when I discovered from The Heimlich Maneuver that Carla's Alchemy catering company in Silver Springs, MD is currently being rebranded.
Intrigued, I clicked on the link thoughtfully provided and discovered, to my dismay, that Alchemy by Carla Hall is now a cookie-making business! What an insult! What an outrage! I found this commercial decision depressing for many, many reasons, not least of which is the tragic fact that I haven't eaten a cookie worth the name in five months. I felt the betrayal deeply and was forced to eat a KIND cranberry/almond bar (all natural! certified gluten-free! dairy-free! loaded with anti-oxidants! doesn't taste like packing material!) to restore my equilibrium.
Naturally, the news wounded me to the core. But ever curious - like a moth approaching one of those horrific electric zappers - and in a mood of desperate self-punishment more usually associated with Dostoevsky or Ingmar Bergman, I clicked on Cookie Collection to read Carla's tantalizing descriptions of little bundles of love made with organic sugar, European-style butter, couverture chocolate, artisanal cheeses, seasonal fruits, and gluten-laden flour. Sniffling softly, I prepared to tap on the little x and close the window forever when something drew my attention to the how-to-order section at the bottom of the page.
What did I spy with my little eye?
Pecan shortbread with vanilla salt; Hawaiian wedding cookies; and oatmeal, cranberry, and white chocolate creations are available gluten-free upon request!
How could I have doubted her? My heroine proves her worth once again.
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