Back when I was studying, and thinking of pursuing as a career, urban planning, I became smitten with the concept of resilience, which I now can't help but automatically apply to all systems that I care to think about--the human body, one's diet, my kitchen. My favorite definition of resilience is having the ability to return to an original functional state after a challenge has thrown the system out of balance. Here's an easy example: if you've got a fun group of friends and two of them who were together decide to break up, will your group of friends be able to eventually return back to normal again? Or will there be a rift making it impossible to ever hang out like you used to? If things can get completely back to normal then we could say your group of friends is pretty resilient. Maybe you could see how understanding the resilience of cities, businesses or biological systems could get really applicable and interesting, especially for us nerdy folk.

Two of my favorite nerds, Brian Walker and David Salt spell it all out in Resilience Thinking, which helps the lay person grasp some pretty powerful concepts. One that has stuck with me is the concept of redundancy, which basically means that in a resilient system, there are more than one way to do any single thing, like a kitchen with a flat cheese grater, a standing cheese grater, a cheese grater that you crank and a planer. It flies in the face of efficiency and optimization, but I can see how it makes sense.

I bring this all up now because, in the spirit of redundancy, I want to share a recipe for a little thing that acts a lot like a bacon bit, but I don't care to force it into a "replace your bacon bits" place--I wouldn't dare, dears, especially in this almost overpoweringly pro-bacon climate.

But seriously, these little peppery crunchy things are great, whether or not bacon exists in the world. My sweetheart is now obsessed with their salty crunch. We eat them on salads, breakfast potatoes, casseroles, avocados and any place a little bacon wouldn't be argued with. You can make this recipe in the oven but I recommend using a dehydrator.

Nut Crunchies

1 cup almonds (soaked in saltwater and then dehydrated is best, but any almonds will do)
3 tablespoons amino acids
1 teaspoon coarse ground pepper

Pulse the almonds in a food processor until the largest pieces are a little bigger than the size of a bacon bit. Combine all ingredients and spread flat on a dehydrator sheet. Dehydrate for a day or two until the nuts are completely dry. They will form flat sheets which can be used like bacon strips if you're careful, or break them up and store in an airtight container.

If you don't have a dehydrator, spread the combined ingredients flat on a baking sheet (lining the sheet with parchment paper will make a tidier experience) and bake at the lowest temperature your oven is capable of, checking occasionally to make sure the almonds aren't browning. If they do start to brown turn off the oven, keeping the oven door closed. After the oven has cooled check the bits to see if they have lost all their moisture. Repeat with another round of oven heat if necessary, checking again to make sure the nuts don't brown. Store in an airtight container.

Also, let's try this:

Easter brunch can be a tough one sometimes. Like Thanksgiving, I always walk away from the table lamenting all of my decisions for the past 30 minutes. It's a lovely problem to have too much food, but the type of food that us brunchers adore is the other half of the challenge.

After a lopsided over-sugary potluck brunch a few years ago (potlucks can be unlucky sometimes), I've vowed to bring only savory dishes to the Easter gathering. This year, I also happened to have six pounds of blue hubbard squash to use, so I ended up with a savory pumpkin butter that I called Curried Squash Mash with Feta Cheese and Spiced Pepitas. It's delicious, filling, and even though it's savory, the spices in the garam masala really bridge well with sweets, so it's a great side for brunch.

The fun part for me was inventing a new take on the deviled egg. I mean, if you have pounds of curried squash mash and a dozen decorated hard boiled eggs it's only a matter of time before something awesome happens. Right?

Curried Blue Hubbard Squash Mash

This is a great way to process the mountains of roasted squash guaranteed if you have at least one blue hubbard. Freeze what you can't eat in a week and consider a few of your future lunches already half-made. The mash is gluten free, lactose free and vegan, but, of course, topping it with cheese or substituting cream for nut butter changes a couple of those credentials. Topping this mash with fresh squeezed lemon and pepitas would make a delicious vegan version.

6 lbs roasted seeded and peeled blue hubbard squash
3 teaspoons salt
1 yellow onion, diced
3 tablespoons cooking oil
1 tablespoon garam masala
1 tablespoon curry powder
1/4 cup walnut or almond butter (or cream, if you're into that)
up to 1 tablespoon sugar
up to 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar

Heat the squash over medium heat and then mash with a potato masher until smooth. It may help to alternate mashing and cooking a few times, so this process may take a half hour. While the squash is becoming ever softer, smoother and more reduced, saute the onion in oil and salt until the onions are clear, then add the garam masala and curry powder and heat until the spices are fragrant, 1-2 minutes. Remove from heat and add this mixture, and the nut butter to the squash after you're happy with the squash consistency and confident that you wont want to mash it some more. Continue to reduce the squash until it is flavorful enough and sturdy enough to be a self-respecting side dish (How would it feel on a plate next to mashed potatoes?). Add a teaspoon of sugar and/or a tablespoon of vinegar at a time until the sugar balances the salt and the sharpness of the vinegar balances the mellowness of the squash. The final amount of vinegar and sugar will depend on the volume, flavor and moisture content of the squash. This can be served as a side dish and is super classy with crumbled feta cheese or fresh squeezed lemon and spiced pepitas.

Spiced Pepitas

Pepitas is synonymous with pumpkin seeds only it sounds sexier. These guys are great on pretty much anything, but yogurt, soup and curries are the first to jump to mind.

1 1/2 teaspoon sugar
pinch salt
1 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1/2 cup pumpkin seeds

Combine the sugar, salt, nutmeg and lemon zest in a small bowl and set it, along with a plate or parchment paper, within arms reach of your heat source. Heat the pumkin seeds in a dry pan over medium heat, stirring constantly. When all of the pumpkin seeds are puffed up and many of them have turned brown, add the sugar mixture and continue to stir until the sugar is melted. If the sugar doesn't start to melt within a few seconds, turn up the heat, continuing to stir constantly. Once the sugar has melted, immediately pour the seeds onto the plate or parchment paper and spread them out to cool.

Curried Squash Deviled Eggs with Crumbled Feta and Spiced Pepitas

Hard boiled eggs
Curried Squash Mash (see above)
Spiced Pepitas (see above)
Feta cheese, crumbled

Peel and halve the hard boiled eggs. Place the yolks in a bowl and set the halves aside. To the bowl add an amount of squash mash that is twice the volume of the yolks--it's ok to eyeball it. Incorporate the yolks into the mash, taste it and add more mash if you wish. Place a generous amount of mash into each egg half and sprinkle the eggs with crumbled feta and spiced pepitas.

My sweetheart often jokes that I LOVE jars. While I downplay, like any normal person would, he might be right. I love good design and these things with the screw-tops--modular, clean, self-sealing, reliable--make me happy I notice design at all. I'm looking forward to these fabulous reusable jars becoming a form of currency during a post-apocalyptic cultural flowering, and for now they're pretty, in a rustic, Portland-isn't-actually-a-city sort of way.

Anyway, I've recently come across a couple rad desserts that both belong in jars: Chocolate Glissade, adapted from a recipe originally in a charming French children's cookbook, and beautifully posted on 101 Cookbooks, and Coconut Lavender Tapioca Pudding, a vegan miracle adapted from a recipe overheard in the student lounge at school. I imagine they'd be a hit, and hassel-free for the hosts, at a dinner party. Or a great way to treat yo self on the go mid-week. Both recipes are also very doable, despite their exotic names and ingredients.

French Chocolate Glissade (GF, lactose free, if you want it that way)

Not your ordinary pudding, this stuff is like eating from a chocolate bar without having to wait for it to melt in your mouth. This recipe contains raw eggs, though, so enjoy your walk on the wild side at your own risk.

2 eggs at room temperature
6 oz high quality (60-80% cacao) chocolate, finely chopped
1/4 cup water
2 tablespoons sugar
4 tablespoons coconut oil (or butter if you don't mind the lactose)
a pinch of salt
herb for garnish (I used red pepper flakes, because I'm fearless)

Separate the eggs, set the yolks aside, beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form and set those aside too. Create a double boiler out of a pan of simmering water topped with a metal bowl. Into the bowl, add the water, butter, sugar, salt and chocolate, stirring constantly until the ingredients are smooth and without lumps. Remove the bowl from the heat source, whisk the yolks into the chocolate and then fold in the whites. Pour into wide mouth half-pint jars (wide-mouth for access, friends, gotta be able to get to the goods) and garnish with your favorite chocolate-loving herb. Chill for at least a couple hours before serving.

Update: My oh my. What happens when a caffeinated dessert meets Lorraine during finals week? Maybe a little over-eagerness to spread the word about this awesome chocolate glissade. Please allow a correction: Instead of chilling this glissade, allow it to cool completely to room temperature before serving, especially if you're using the coconut oil option.

Coconut Lavender Tapioca Pudding (GF, lactose free and vegan, totally by accident)

If chocolate glissade were a person, it might unflinchingly return your gaze and demand to know your soul. In such a case, this tapioca pudding would be the type to invite you close, hold you comfortingly and let you wander off when you wanted. Some people are into chocolate; some people like a more easy-going dessert.

1/3 cup large tapioca pearls soaked in water for at least an hour and drained
1 can coconut milk
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1 teaspoon lavender, crushed
a dash of salt
a few whole lavender buds for garnish

Heat the coconut milk over medium-low heat, add the tapioca pearls and cook until they become translucent. Remove from heat, let cool a little, add the powdered sugar, lavender and salt and combine. Pour into wide-mouth half-pint jars, garnish with whole lavender buds and let set. Refrigerate if you won't be eating them within a couple hours, but if you do so, warm the tapioca gently before serving.

Friends, I've shared my love for egg tacos before, but they've really developed into something that deserves another post. Even before taking a turn for the amazing, egg tacos were (and remain) not only delicious but also quick and tidy--how long does it take to fry an egg? And how long does it take to clean up the cast iron after? The answers are 3 and 0 minutes, respectively. It's brilliant to have dinner started, eaten, and cleaned up in under 8 minutes. I know it's not ideal to cook and eat quickly; our physiology instructor made sure we understood the cephalic phase of digestion (digestion really begins in your brain as you think about what you want to eat, prepare it, take in the aromas and lovely sights of your food). However, naturopathic school is a guaranteed four years of irony, and sometimes a girl's gotta prioritize studying over food gawking, dear cephalic phase. So my beloved egg tacos, quick, tidy, protein-filled and gluten free have become the statistical mode in my kitchen.

Ok, so they're convenient, but a jar of fabulous plum chutney gifted by a friend took them from delicious to eating these will never get old. Yeah, chutney. Do you eat chutney often? It's a little rare in my food scene, so I wasn't sure how to use it at first; it hung out with tempeh, and starred in a salad dressing or two, before finding it's true calling as a flavoring in the egg taco. Not only does chutney increase the tasty factor, but it elevates the egg taco to truly American status--and I mean something pretty specific when I call a food "American".

What is American food? Instead of the term conjuring up images of hotdogs, hamburgers and potato salads, I posit that American food really boasts a more complex definition. It's food that is made of ingredients that are themselves already a processed food (for example, chutney and corn tortillas) and are likely to come from more than one cultural tradition (again, chutney and corn tortillas). American food is what happens when international shipping is undertaken on a currency-backed whim, and when ingredients from disparate cultural traditions hang out at the same grocery store. Suddenly, bacon-wrapped sriracha! Green tea mochi ice cream balls! Quinoa skillet bread! It's marginally more pride-worthy than hot dogs and hamburgers.

So here's my little American meal: corn tortillas from Central America; chutney from India with a stopover in Great Britain; parmesan from Italy; and fried eggs, from...who knows where the fried egg comes from? All topped with something colorful or fresh for the old cephalic phase.

I served them to my sweetheart the other night and we downed a half dozen in 20 minutes. Also very American of us.

I've got a totally kick-ass breakfast to share with you. The kind of breakfast that you go to bed looking forward to, that despite the wholeness you feel after eating it, still leaves you alert and agile. Its so delicious, and yet, it came about because of a prescription from my doctor--a perfect example of how medicine inspires deliciousness. This breakfast is decadent, easy, and accidentally gluten free.

The nerd in me especially loves how each ingredient is an important player as a medicine.

Yogurt-- whole milk provides the volume and calories to chase away the hunger until lunchtime, and the live bacteria help support healthy gut flora. Also, of course, 60-year-old-Lorraine and her awesome bone density will thank the 30-year-old Lorraine of today for enjoying every calcium-laiden bite.

Pumpkin seeds, ground flax seeds, lemon flavored fish oil-- these three are a trio that my naturopathic doctor has instructed me to eat daily for two weeks of each month, followed by two weeks of a trio of sunflower seeds, sesame seeds and evening primrose oil. This is called "seed cycling" in the world of natural medicine, a protocol that capitalizes on the mimicry of human hormones that the natural oils in the seeds perform. The seeds are taken to help support normal female hormone cycling. I think of it like a swing: I'm on the swing and this fortnight's combination gently push me along in the right direction until it's time to switch and the other trio steps in to do its gentle work. By the way, the fish oil boasts loads of omega-3 fatty acids, which are deficient in most American diets, and the natural lemon flavor in the fish oil seriously takes this breakfast to the next level.

Probiotic Powder-- again, supporting healthy gut flora balance, which is essential for absorption of everything from macronutrients to vitamins, minerals and as-of-yet unknown required nutrients. This was also prescribed my my doctor, and it's not a weird addition at all, just mildly sweet and forgettable.

Jam, pumpkin butter, or fresh fruit-- of course, fresh fruit is the healthiest option, but when it's not around, I take this opportunity to enjoy gifted preserves from my mom. If I'm going to eat something sugary on my breakfast (and I am, dammit) I'm psyched when it tastes like summer and is in one of the many forms of my mother's love.

Cinnamon-- oh, cinnamon, freshly ground, you invade my dreams with your spicy sweetness. Let's keep dreaming through breakfast.

Almonds and walnuts-- Yes, of course, nuts are protein-packed and totally awesome, but these ones are extra special. My sister--ever fastidious about clean, whole foods--clued me into Mommypotamus' via Nourishing Traditions' method of soaking and dehydrating nuts, which leaves them way more awesome than your usual raw nuts. With most of the bitter undertones rinsed away, the delicate sweetness of the meat and subtle flavors of the oils are liberated, with an outrageously enjoyable crunch kicking off the whole party. The particular crunch is novel to me, so it's taken a few weeks to put it into words, but here it is, folks: it is a crunch that mimics the sound and feel of stepping on freshly fallen snow. What? Sign me up, every day.

Usually, I like to work with whole food, and real, healthy ingredients, leaving the decadence to the decadence experts. But, every now and then, a craving is too important, or the challenge just too enticing. My latest muse: gluten free vegan pastry crust.

While staying true to my inherited high standards for pastry crust, I've been working on a recipe that replaces both the animal product and gluten in a thing that's made of basically just butter and flour. It's almost a laughable contradiction in terms. Gluten free vegan pastry crust. Bah!

Luckily, alternative flours are now easy enough to come by, and coconut oil, with its lofty notes and room temp melting point is hardly a compromise in either flavor or texture. After a few variations, I've settled on this recipe, which is nutty, delicate and has even received a nod from the pie crust matriarch herself.

The crust made its most recent appearance this past Saturday night in the form of a sweet potato pie at a southern-themed potluck for our Mississippian friend's birthday. The pie is not vegan. Or healthy. But it is oh, so mid-century American, adapted from a tried and true casserole recipe from Jackson. Enjoy!

Gluten Free Vegan Pie Crust

2 tablespoon ground flax seeds
1/2 cup water
1 cup white rice flour
1 cup tapioca flour
1/2 cup garbanzo bean flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup coconut oil

Soak the ground flax seeds in water for 1/2 to 4 hours--the longer the soak time, the better it will be at binding the dough. In a separate bowl, mix together the flours and salt, then cut the coconut oil into the flour mixture until the grains of oil are smaller than the tip of your pinky. Or, ditch the pastry cutter and pinch the chunks of oil between your thumb and index finger until there are no more big chunks left. Give the soaking flax seeds a stir and then toss them into the mix, working the crumbly mess into a dough. Divide the dough in half, and press each half into a pie plate and give 'em a little love to make them pretty.

Fill each pie shell with the sweet potato mixture and top with the walnut mixture. Bake for 35-45 minutes at 375 ºF.

This past growing season I received a CSA share from Winter Green Farm, a sweet biodynamic getup in our lovely Willamette valley. Every week I would pick up a pannier or two full of astoundingly delicious veggies and I would stress over the amount of time and effort it would take to fully honor how precious this food was.

Feeling too busy to cook isn't rare, I know. So I thought I'd share my one saving strategy that got me through harvest season: roasting. It's straightforward, kind of mindless, and after all the chopping is done, there's time to do other things like, the dishes, studying, saving the world--whatever it is that needs more attention than dinner.

The strategy is simple: get those suckers chopped and in a baking pan with oil and salt and roast them as soon as possible. The end result is sweet, flavorful, nutritious and seriously compact--makes it easy to get your veggie servings down the hatch. Roasted veggies are tasty by themselves or added to just about anything...tacos, eggs, soup, sushi, pizza. And because they last a week or more in the fridge it buys you some time to figure out what you might want to do with them.

I like to roast them at 425 ºF, stirring occasionally. Fruit like apples add a sweet tang; tomatoes just make things mushy; onions are almost a must.

Holla at me if you've got a sweet way to take care of your vegetables.

This year I turned 30 in a big way and while I asked for no gifts, a few persistent folks managed to tuck a new item into my life here and there. One of my favorites is a slick new waffle iron--a waffle iron without all the extra things like electrical cords, heating elements, lights or feet. Its slim form sits elegantly over the gas range, needs to be flipped after filling it with batter, and as I learned this Saturday morning, doesn't drip as much as you'd think.

But whatever will we fill it with when our doc suggests that we avoid gluten for a few months? I'm game for diet changes, if only for the exercise of it, but I'm not about to cut out brunch.

Also, I'm impatient. I didn't want to wait for pre-made gluten free waffle mixes (or xanthan gum, cornstarch or potato starch for that matter) to make their way into my life before waffles could happen. I admit, I'd been stocking up on odd flours in case a gluten-free pastry would be called for--a girl's gotta be prepared. So with my sweetie in front of the internet, reading aloud gluten free waffle ingredient lists, and I in front of my cupboard, and finding no good match, we settled on a plan, a good, old-fashioned, cross-your-fingers plan.

And it worked! The waffles turned out moist, substantive but not dense with an enjoyable crunch to the crispy parts. Also, they liked holding together more than they liked holding to the waffle iron, which is important. These puppies are gluten free and accidentally lactose free too!

Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whip the egg whites with the vanilla until stiff peaks form. Combine milk, egg yolks and oil with the dry ingredients, then gently fold in the whipped egg whites.

I belong to a short but charmingly similar-looking line of women who pride ourselves, deeply, in our pie crust. It's flaky, buttery and melt-in-your-mouthy. This crust of ours is the only reason we make pies--the filling is just a formality, and the cut scraps of our rolled pie dough survive only a few moments after a short stint in the oven on a cookie sheet.

I'm not claiming that we make the best pie crust in the world, but we just don't understand how a crust could be any better. Or maybe we just make the best possible pie crust for our particular, genetically-similar food-enjoying apparatuses.

So I embark on all pastry crust related endeavors with a crazy, possibly unfounded confidence.

Over winter break, I thought I would make handpies for myself for the upcoming term. Handpies are handy. Warm and savory, you can eat them with one hand and take notes with the other. Also, I wanted to relive a lovely, frigid fall weekend visiting friends in Boston a few years ago, when we made a butternut squash and carmelized onion galette.* (The galette was amazing, but I also won't forget serving up a beet that I had found that day, forlorn and frozen on the street several blocks away from an outdoor market.)

So the galette was recreated, with a combover of pastry to cover its bald top, and a little more crimping than galettes are used to. (I also filled a few rogue pies with some roasted winter veggies and reduced bone broth.)

I'm happy to admit that these handpies turned out to be several handfuls of delicious, messy, failure. The anticipation of eating them mostly just distracts me from schoolwork, and the pastry is way to delicate to hold anything inside it. As a handpie: not so much; as a belly filler, and smile-provider: two thumbs up, A+, high five! They should be served at dinner to friends who have access to forks.

Want our pastry recipe? It's too simple to have any special secrets about it. Just promise you'll use it for good only.

The Graphic Designer and Daughters' Pastry

2 cups flour
2 sticks butter, room temperature (I mean, like a drafty house in the wintertime room temperature)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1-3 tablespoons cold water

Cut butter into the flour and salt with a pastry cutter or by slicing through the butter with a couple of opposing table knives. Once the grains of butter are all smaller than the tip of your pinky, add 1 tablespoon of the water, making an effort to distribute it as evenly as possible. Gently, bring the mixture together with your hands, aiming to form a ball, but try to handle it as little as possible. If needed add another 1-2 tablespoons of water, distributing it where the mixture is crumbliest, until the mixture becomes a dough. Divide the dough in two, roll, place, primp, fill, bake, beam. This amount will make two crusts--a top and a bottom or two bottoms for open pies--or several handpie crusts.

Next time on Pastry Crust Snobbery: homemade gluten free pie crust! Just for kicks!

*Awesomely, the charming Deb of Smitten Kitchen who provided the original galette recipe, also admits to her filling being merely a vehicle for her pastry. Sigh...blog crush!