Pancake Tuesday

It's my favorite Tuesday of February. It's Fat Tuesday. It's Pancake Tuesday. It's Morri-is-really-trying-to-be-on-here-more-so-bear-with-her-Tuesday.

Pancakes were the start of Meals with Morri, which is weird since I'm actually a waffle person. CK and I get into "arguments" about what is a pancake and what isn't, what is a regular sized pancake and what is ridiculous gargantuan Midwestern proportions.

It keeps us interesting, I suppose.

Aside from it being Pancake Day and sharing/eating a recipe, I wanted to find a way to share the fun with my two buns without them eating food that isn't particularly healthy for them (sadly, pancakes the way I like them is exactly that). February is Adopt a Rescued Rabbit month, and our three month since adoption is this coming Monday, so needless to say I'd like them to enjoy it too.

Fat Tuesday Salad for Rabbits

Handful of Greens: Romaine hearts, mixed greens, dandelion leaves (1 handful per rabbit)
Grated carrot (1 tbsp. per rabbit)
Chopped mango (1 tsp.)
Sliced blueberries (1tsp.)
1/4 - 1/3 tsp. rolled oats (as a treat)

Put together the ingredients as artfully as possible. 

Serve to your bunny overlords. 

Take photos of the cuteness.

Rabbits are interesting roommates, and if you feel you can hold up to a 10+ year commitment with one or two (or more) of these small creatures, go visit your local rescue. At my local HRS chapter, they usually suggest fostering first (although experience with rabbit care is mandatory), where they provide the cage, the food, and pay for additional medical expenses. Fostering means you've provided a safe place for them to grow and socialize and learn, and in return you see whether or not rabbits are right for you in the long term.

The term 'foster failure' is a thing for a reason.

I've always identified as a cat person, but there's something about the growing relationship you develop with your rabbits that really tugs at my heart. I have had to learn to not worry so much. I have had to get down on their level. I have had to self-reflect and be compassionate whenever they are feeling a certain way. I have had to be accountable and selfless and honor who they are now instead of what I want them to be.

It's kind of like having children... vegan children who poop outside their litter pans sometimes.

All rabbits are different, but I assure you that, in the right home, with the right family, with the right mindset, they make fantastic additions to the family. Adopt, don't shop, and eat pancakes... however you defined them.

Socca (recipe from Wikibooks)
150 g chickpea flour
250 ml water
1 tbsp. Olive oil
1/2 tsp. Sea salt
Black pepper, to taste (I did 1/4 tsp.)

Preheat oven to at least 480°F (around 300°C / 570°F is traditional, but whatever your oven can manage that gets close to this).

Option 1: If using a cast-iron pan, get it into the oven at the start so that it is hot when the batter goes into it.

Option 2: If using a ceramic baking dish (at least 9" in diameter), line it with olive oil and set aside (this is what I did).
Whisk the ingredients together well or put through the blender, ensuring there are no lumps. 

Option 1: Pour the batter into the HOT cast-iron pan and bake for 15 minutes (results are crispier). 

Option 2: Pour into the baking dish and place into the oven to back for 15 minutes (results are creamier center). 

Remove from the oven and cut into triangular wedges. 

Serve hot.

Makes 2 servings.

Eating Cake on the Rooftop

On at least three separate occasions I have been asked if I’m still doing Meals with Morri. The short answer is yes. The longer answer obviously has more to it than that. 

When I first started, I was cooking and posting and writing on the regular, and in doing so I learned how to cook and post and write. I met a lot of talented and amazing people along the way. Companies and publishers reached out to me to write reviews for their products and cookbook authors. I learned to be picky, and when to say no.

But with the evolution of Meals with Morri, particularly the person behind it (i.e., yours truly), I started to become very critical of my art. If it wasn’t something I thought people wouldn’t like, it wasn’t posted. If the photos I took were not good enough, the recipe itself would have to wait. This doesn’t particularly bother me, because I have really blossomed with the food I’ve made, and the stories I’ve written about them have refined. The problem I am facing now is the realization as to why I love to cook, and why Meals with Morri has been lacking in recipes per month recently.

My motivation in making food is just that: making food. Not for me, but to share with others. Eating the same food with other people is such an important ritual for me. It’s a sacred act of connecting with others at the table. I had experienced a similar revelation while I was in Malta. When I lived alone, I just made food. There was nothing more to it than insuring I was eating enough. But when CK and I visited each other or I made food for the office, suddenly the creative juices were flowing in overdrive. And perhaps the underlying reason is to validate my art, to see that Meals with Morri was doing something positive in person. But really, I’ve come to realize that, like my previous aspirations to be a chef, I really love it when people eat and enjoy the food I make for them. 

Living with my parents after over a year of not doing so has meant that what they eat and what I eat doesn’t mesh as often as it used to when it was my responsibility to make dinner for the family. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course, but not sharing food I make with other people has affected my motivation to create and share recipes online. I like there being a reason for my art, and I want to experience that shared moment in person, in real time. CK and our two dear friends H and J have risen to the challenge in helping me see that it's equally important for me to enjoy my art, and are more than willing to help give me ideas in what to make (thanks, guys).

Last night, I was invited to a friend’s birthday party, and although I wasn’t asked, I made a cake that I knew I’d be able to eat. It was a rooftop party, one that overlooked other Washington, D.C. apartments and offices, the Washington Monument blinking lazily far away. The already present cupcakes had been eaten, and to my surprise, my cake was used to sing to him “Happy Birthday” (which I unashamedly conspired with his girlfriend in making happen). The cake was said to be quite good, and only a few people knew that it was gluten free. 

Rooftop Carrot Cake with Honey Sweetened Cream Cheese Frosting

For the cake
120 g White rice flour*
1/2 tsp. Baking soda**
1 tsp. Cream of tartar**
1/4 tsp. sea salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
2 eggs
1 tsp. Vanilla extract
150 ml olive oil
200 g coconut sugar
5 Carrots, grated

Preheat the oven to 350°F, and grease (I used butter) and flour (I used the white rice flour) one 9-inch pan.
In a medium bowl, sift together the rice flour, baking soda, cream of tartar, sea salt and cinnamon.
In the bowl of a stand mixer (or a larger bowl with a hand mixer), combine the eggs, olive oil, coconut sugar, and vanilla, and beat on medium-low speed until the mixture is slightly frothy.
Reduce the speed to low, and add the flour mixture in small increments, making sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula each time.
Stir in the grated carrots, mixing until combined, and pour the batter into the prepared baking pan.
Bake for 40 - 50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean (for me, this was 50 minutes).
Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes, and then turn out onto a parchment lined wire rack to cool completely.
Once cooled, decorate the cake with frosting and other toppings you may enjoy (such as unsweetened coconut shavings).

Makes 1 cake, or 12 slices.

For the frosting (courtesy of this recipe)
8 oz package or 240 g Cream cheese, softened
56 g Unsalted butter, softened
85 g Honey
Unsweetened coconut shavings, as topping (optional)

Whip the cream cheese in a standing mixer until soft, then add the butter and honey to blend.
Mix on medium speed until smooth and creamy.

Makes 12 – 18 servings.

* NOT to be confused with sweet rice flour. If you do, you’ll get a mochi-like consistency.

** The baking powder equivalent is 1 1/2 tsp.

To Adult or Not to Adult, it Still Calls for Ice Cream

Upon returning to the states over a month ago, a dark cloud enveloped my disposition. The job searching and applying seemed to be going nowhere. I was constantly reminded that, at twenty-five, with a Master’s Degree, I was living at home in my childhood bedroom with a depleting savings account. The distance between CK and I was a hard one, especially with him traveling with family around Italy for a couple weeks, and our long talks cut short. Triggers of abandonment and rejection bombarded me, and I kick myself now in falling for the fears. 

If there was a time where I felt like a small and insignificant child, it was from May to June. I stopped caring about the things I used to be so passionate about. Every email to a potential employer felt like a desire to be accepted and integrated in the career path I so wanted to participate in. I felt like a child with the weight of adulthood bearing down on my shoulders. I felt that I had the experience and the passion to make things happen, only to be told that it wasn’t enough.

Depression is nothing less than a merciless bitch.

The other tragic event that took place just this last Saturday was the death of our newest member of the family: our cat Clyde. He had developed FIP before he came into our home, but it took him regardless. He was just a few weeks short of his first birthday, and his death was a heartbreaking blow. Lilli, our other cat, has thankfully not contracted the incurable disease (fingers crossed that it remains that way), but she has lost two friends in the span of ten months, and it hurts to watch her grieve.

He was such a bundle of love, and unremorseful in being in the middle of it all.

But Clyde’s death did something positive for me. It’s hard to explain, but whatever depression I had (smothering me to the point I had sincerely thought of packing a few days worth of clothing and food and driving my car somewhere without telling anyone) lifted. The child feeling went away. I learned what it means to be an adult, and I learned it while holding Clyde as the vet put him to sleep.

In all the kitties that have come into my life, their deaths happened without my being physically present. Luna, the cat before Lilli, also had FIP, but I was young and Mama Dazz took her in the middle of the night and held her while she died. Miette, who developed kidney disease (common in Abyssinians), died while I was in Malta. Clyde was the first death I had ever witnessed in any being bigger than a hamster, and I was adamant that I was there no matter what happened.

When you’re in your teens, you dream about being an adult. It means making your own decisions, running the show. In your twenties, you have this checklist of Being Adult. It means having a job with insurance and unpaid internships are a thing of the past. It means moving out of your parents’ house. It means having enough money to live off on. It means paying taxes. It means being out of school. Based upon my Being Adult list, I was out of school, but I didn’t meet the other requirements, and I felt less for it. 

I spent all my energy and motivation trying to fulfill this stupid list, when in reality I was looking at it in the wrong way. I am very grateful and appreciative to have this time to live at home so I can find a job on my terms. I have a partner that I always cherish seeing. And instead of looking at job after job after job, I realized that it isn’t a burden to have such an inclusive career path. It means I have a lot of options to choose from.

Being an adult means that you make the final decisions in every choice that is presented in front of you. It means knowing when to say goodbye. It means knowing when an opportunity presents itself, and taking that leap forward.

It also means being able to have dessert whenever you bloody well feel like it.

As I’ve said, my desire to make recipes waned significantly since returning to the states, but for a few weeks now I’ve really wanted to post summer fun foods that can be enjoyed after a day’s worth of Adulting.

And like any sad moment, this calls for ice cream, or gelato.

One of my favorite memories in 2014 was Chris surprising me with a trip to a gelateria that made a few gelato flavors with fructose, and thus Morri-friendly. Since then, the craving to make homemade gelato was constantly on my mind. Mama Dazz had mentioned that she had a hand-churning ice cream maker (old school and awesome), and so the challenge was accepted.

Only this time, instead of fructose, it was made with coconut sugar.

Ice cream, gelato, and sorbet are relatively easy things to make at home. And like most things, I felt empowered that I could indulge on my terms without the fear of being glutened, sugared, or soyed. Yes, it’s a little time consuming on the prep, but it is a labor of love that is well worth it.

The recipe I found for authentic Italian gelato is from the wonderful Memorie di Angelina, and it speaks for itself. Even though the coconut sugar changed the coloring of the gelato to appear darker, the texture is exactly what I remembered enjoying in the park with CK as kids kicked the soccer ball around.

And it’s a naturally gluten free food, a plus in my book.

Gelato bionda (Blonde Gelato) (adapted from this recipe)

500 ml Whole milk
150 g “Blonde” coconut sugar, pulsed to a fine consistently
4 Egg yolks
1 Vanilla pod, split down the middle

Pour the milk, half of the coconut sugar (75 g), and the vanilla pod or lemon zest, into a saucepan and bring the milk nearly to a boil.
When the very first bubbles begin to appear, take it immediately off the heat and let it cool.
Cover the saucepan, which will slow down the cooling process and prolong the steeping process, thus drawing out more of the vanilla flavor.
When the milk has cooled (at room temperature or a little warmer, but not too hot or it will cook the egg prematurely), put the egg yolks into an electric mixer together with the other half of the coconut sugar.
Beat at a high setting until the egg yolks and sugar have been thoroughly combined and the mixture is creamy.
Lower the setting and slowly add your cooled milk mixture (after removing the vanilla pod) in a steady stream, and mix until everything is well amalgamated.
Transfer the mixture back into the saucepan, and heat it gently until the eggs thicken it into a thin custard (thick enough to coat a spoon lightly, but not so much that the egg curdles).
Stir continually and raise the heat very gradually (medium to medium-high) until said thin custard is observed.
Once the mixture has thickened, remove it from the heat and pour it into the mixing bowl previously used.
Let it stand to cool for ten minutes before transferring to the fridge to chill for at least one hour to overnight (I personally chilled the mixture overnight, and was very pleased with the result).
Pour the now chilled mixture into your ice cream maker and proceed to churn per the instructions that came with the machine (mine ended up with a soft serve consistency in about 20 minutes), a place the final product in the freezer* to continue the firming process.
Serve as soon as it is out of the freezer with your favorite ice cream accompaniments.

Makes 6 – 9 servings.

*Tips from Memorie di Angelina: “If you are keeping your gelato in the freezer for a longer time (gelato will keep for quite a while in the freezer) then remove it from the freezer about 15 minutes or so before serving, as it hardens further over time, and the texture of gelato can be firm but never hard.”

Don't Crowd the Mushrooms, Among Other Things

Around the same time last year, I experienced something along the lines of depression and anxiety. I tend to not admit it. I tend to not use the “d” word at all. After all, what did I have to be depressed about? I was living abroad, making a name for myself. Or, rather, I was learning what it meant to do the job in front of me because it needed doing. In February of last year, I developed Secondary Traumatic Stress (a similar beast to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but one typically seen in those helping people who experienced trauma firsthand) in an effort to help out on a project the NGO I interned at managed.

It has been a growing year for me since then.

In March of this year, I had gotten sick with probably one of the longest running bugs I’ve had in a while. And that turned into a terrible sinus infection, which in turn lasted another two weeks with an on again, off again fever. All motivation to do the things I enjoyed went out the window. No Insanity with CK. No Meals with Morri posts (or celebration of its fourth birthday, for that matter). No art. No job applications. Nothing.

My weakened immune system brought me back to how I felt last year, and the lack of interest from potential employers made it worse.

I write about this because I think it’s important. Meals with Morri is, first and foremost, a site about living healthfully with food sensitivities. But it’s also a place where I write about other health issues, like hypothyroidism, disordered eating, and stress.

In Malta, I kept my emotional pain relatively quiet (with the exception of CK, my parents, certain friends, and my therapist). I was living alone and on my own for the first time. I was finishing up grad school. I was working in a country on issues that were highly contentious and subject to scorn. Outside of work, I didn’t have a social life because I found it hard to assimilate and integrate with the culture). It was a hard lesson in learning to be alone and honest with myself.

Fast forward to today. I’m in Rome for twelve more days, living with an amazing human being that I refer to as my Partner with a capital ‘p’. I’ve volunteered my time and expertise at his school to get out of the apartment. I’ve improved as an artist, a cook, and as a writer. I’ve applied for jobs everywhere.

Depression isn’t logical. I am aware of my privilege. I have supportive friends, and I’ve grown as a person because of my experiences. But there would be days where I go through job listing sites like Idealist.org or Indeed.com and come up with nothing. Until recently, the idea of sending an email to another potential employer only to be ignored would bring me to tears, staring at the computer screen with blurred vision as the anxiety and worthlessness feeling grew. If you are presently searching for employment or had a hard time finding a job, you’ll know how detrimental it can be when your inbox is empty, and no one seems interested in what you can offer both their mission and their office.

But as I’ve said, I’ve been able to volunteer my time at CK’s school in more ways than I could have ever hoped for. It has validated my self-worth in that, despite the empty inbox, what I can and do contribute to the world (even to one person's world) matters. 

Upcoming post: the importance of school gardens

This funk has made it that much harder for me to do things that I clearly love doing, including Meals with Morri posts. The turning point for me was realizing that it was affecting my physical health too.

I know gaining 1.6 pounds isn’t a lot in retrospect, especially since the body fluctuates that amount on any given day. Regardless, I had gained 1.6 pounds, and it bugged me. It had nothing to do with the number and everything to what it represented. To me, it represented my depression affecting me in a very real way with very real consequences. I love physical activity. I love working out. I love being creative. And seeing that number gave me two ways of dealing with it: I could either turn it inward and accept it, beating myself even further to feeling lower than low; or I could say “f*ck that” and take charge. I chose the latter, and with it I had to be prepared to hold myself accountable.

I can’t control whether or not an employer wants to hire me. It’s a vulnerable position to apply for jobs, and that can’t be helped. But what I can do is make my first impression, that is, my cover letter and résumé, a labor of love. I can send them in and be able to say, “I wrote these to the best of my ability, with sincerity and integrity, and that’s something to be proud of.” Sure, it may also mean being downcast when they don’t get back to me, but that just means the right job will.

I can also control how I manage my time. I can sit around and mope, or I can actively seek out someone to talk to. I can work on my art or read another Terry Pratchett (Gods, I miss this man) novel. I can do Insanity instead of napping away the day in an effort to avoid my anger, disappointment, and sadness. I can stop comparing myself to others and instead focus on the positive as well as the things I can control.

I can control how many jobs I apply to. I can control how much time I put into my art and physical health. I can control how often I post on Meals with Morri.

Never let depression ruin your progress. Never let it win. Experience it. Work through it. But in the end, you can and will triumph.

This recipe isn’t particularly relevant to what I’ve written, only that I’ve been meaning to post it for weeks now and wanted to take those first crucial steps in overcoming my funk. It is more of a technique than a recipe. But if you learn anything from today, learn this invaluable tip: Don’t crowd the mushrooms in the pan.

Flawlessly Pan-Fried Mushrooms

400 g Mushrooms of your choice
Olive oil, for the pan
Sea salt

As I said, this is more of a technique than a recipe, but it’s an easy way to dazzle dinner guests. I’ve done this technique with three types of mushrooms: oyster, white button, and a long stemmed, small hooded mushroom that came in clumps and various sizes (I’ll update the name when/if I can find it). All where prepared and cooked similarly, and I have to say I’ve come to appreciate mushrooms by themselves because of this technique.

When you take the mushrooms out of the package, the first thing you do is cut the bottom roots and clean off the remaining debris from its initial picking with a dry paper towel. This is important. If you do end up wetting the mushrooms (they soak up moisture like a sponge, leading to a soggy product, which we do not want), let them sit on the counter to dry out for fifteen minutes or so.

Now, you can keep the stems on or remove them depending on your preference, but it’s up to you. You can also slice them in any shape or simply leave them whole. How you prepare them will determine the cooking time, so be aware of that. What I typically do is, if possible, cut them into quarters to get ultimate browning and body with every bite.

Once the mushrooms are cut, place a large sauté pan on the burner on high heat. When the pan itself is hot, pour a decent amount of olive oil at the bottom of the pan, enough to coat the bottom evenly but not thickly. Toss the mushrooms in, lower the heat slightly (not by much, around medium-high), but be sure that each piece has room. This is extremely important for perfectly cooked browned mushroom: do not crowd the pan with them. This may mean cooking them in batches. And since the mushrooms won’t be crowded, the liquid they do give off will evaporate, leaving soft, browned deliciousness in the pan. 

Stir with a wooden spoon or spatula and shake the pan once in a while. You will know you are doing the recipe right if the pan starts to look dry and the mushrooms sound like they’re squeaking. If it looks like the mushrooms are smoking, DO NOT ADD WATER. Instead, turn on the exhaust fan and maybe add a little more oil.

Once evenly browned, pour onto a serving plate and sprinkle sea salt on top. Repeat if you have more batches to cook (add oil every time). Serve hot as a side dish or simply eat as is. Yes, they’re that good.

This makes two servings… if you’re willing to share, that is.

Steins and Historic Graffiti: Our Trip to Germany

The majority of March was sniffle-filled. Just when CK and I had almost finished Month 1 of Insanity, a terrible cold appeared like a wild Pokémon. They used coughing and high fevers… it was super effective.

CK seemed to get better, but I seemed to get worse. I had nausea, a fever, and uncontrollable coughing, which then turned into one heck of a sinus infection. And with our trip to Germany coming up, I wasn’t looking forward to having sinus trouble on the plane. (Imagine the feeling of needles or broken glass within the sinuses, a sharp pain that is tear inducing and not fun when changing altitude.)

But we had made it to Germany without delay, and our first stop was in Munich.

Munich is the sort of city that is meant to have an overcast sky. The architecture is wonderfully Gothic, and the people balance the grey with their own vibrant personalities. Colors pop out in the rain. 

The city is, in short, a perfect one to look out from a coffee shop window. 

We stayed at the Cortiina Hotel, plain on the outside and rather hard to find (the sign was small and minimalist looking), but our room was amazing. For one, it had a bathtub, a sure sign I’ll be happy. For another, you are able to look out from the bathtub into the bedroom because the wall is one big window. It does have the option to curtain the bathroom with wooden panels, but I just found it fun to knock on the glass to get CK’s attention, acting like a quirky aquarium exhibit.

I enjoyed the atmosphere of the hotel, but I didn’t think our breakfast buffet should have cost €22,50 per person. That basically meant a plate full of cheese and soft-boiled eggs for me, maybe a pastry or two for CK, and a cup of black coffee and a smoothie for each of us. Freshly squeezed orange juice and cappuccinos were extra.

But because of this, CK and I were more adventurous in looking for other places to eat. Munich is rather a meat, beer, and bread sort of place, however, so we struggled to find local cuisine places that would be safe for us. We did find some pretty neat places to indulge, but that also meant my eating meat and CK eating gluteny delights on occasion.

First up, Indian Mango. Indian restaurants tend to be the safest places for vegetarians and gluten free eating people to eat out at, and neither of us had any issue. The strangest thing we encountered, however, was the lack of heat of the dishes. In the United States, you have the ability to designate how spicy you want your food to be, from the not spicy to the “Are you sure? This is our medium.” to the calling the kitchen to witness a non-Indian person who ordered Spicy with a capital S to see whether or not they regret their decision. At this restaurant, it was wonderfully balanced with spices, but it wasn’t hot at all. CK and I speculated whether or not it had to do with the restaurant adhering to the local tastebuds, but as we only went to one Indian restaurant during our stay, we can’t say for certain.

Regardless, their papadum and naan (according to CK, as I couldn’t eat it) are delicious, and their paneer dishes were filling and flavorful.

Nearby, there was a restaurant that claimed a tall order: “Real Mexican Food.” Mexican food is CK’s favorite cuisine, and so we did a double take and looked at La Taqueria’s menu. Around this time, we’d found a pharmacy that had medicine for my sinus trouble, and after weeks of feeling the worst, I was starting to feel better, which made my desire for food increase. We decided to give it a try, and after talking with the people behind the counter, we ate and shared a couple of plates of Vegetarian No.2 nachos. Still, not particularly spicy, but their homemade salsa, corn chips, and white sauce were phenomenal. They even had a variety of aquas frescas to choose from, but since they typically contain sugar, I abstained.

Finally, and quite possibly the most positive eating out experience we had was at Brenner’s Grill. It was loud with chatter and populated by customers and employees alike, and CK and I were astounded by the staff’s level of professionalism. Our waiter attended to our needs spectacularly, and it was refreshing to watch how the employees interacted with each other, like one big family. The food, of course, was delicious. They made it a point to explain on their menu about keeping ingredients local and humane, and there were enough vegetarian options and gluten free options to keep both of us quite content. I ordered the organic chicken breast with pesto with a side order of rosemary potatoes. Chris ordered the avocado and couscous starter followed by homemade gnocchi. The wine was also fabulous. 

As far as sightseeing goes, we primarily stayed at the city-center. For giggles, we walked through the Beer and Octoberfest Museum, which led to a burning desire of owning my own stein. We also went to Dachau, a town just a few train stops away from Munich with a much darker past. Interestingly enough, when CK had expressed interest in going, I had a feeling I had already been there but wasn’t sure. It turns out, I had in fact visited the Dachau Concentration Camp in 2007, when some members of my high school choir and I traveled around Germany as short-term exchange students. It was as sobering as it had been the first time.

Other notable places to eat/visit in Munich are: 1001 Sense, a small chocolate and confections shop; dean&david, a make your own salad, sandwich, and juice bar; and Coffee Fellows, a classic coffee shop.

On Easter Sunday, we initially planned on taking the train from Munich to Berlin (I romanticize long train rides, never having been on one), a seven-hour trip.. But CK’s intuition and my struggle with finding packable Morri-safe food led us to buying last-minute plane tickets, removing the travel time with only an additional thirty euros or so per person.

We arrived at Hotel Louisa’s Place, a historical building situated along a long stretch of famous brands like Gucci and Saint Laurent. But due to arriving and a holiday, followed by another bank holiday, Berlin appeared to be deserted and closed. Thankfully, our hotel was considerate in asking us ahead of time if we had dietary preferences or interests we wanted to pursue during our stay, and came up with a list of vegetarian/vegan and gluten free restaurants throughout the city.

It was much easier to find places to eat in Berlin than it had been in Munich. Sadly, the hotel was much like Cortiina, charging €26,50 per person for the breakfast buffet that had even less for us to eat. Luckily, many of the rooms have some sort of kitchenette (what we had was bigger than our own kitchen in Italy...) that can be of use. Aside from getting coffee from across the street, we made our own breakfast without issue. The massages, however, are worth every euro.

Because Berlin seemed closed and bleak on Easter Sunday, we were initially concerned with where we were going to eat for dinner. It turns out the restaurant I had made reservations for later on in the week was not only connected to the hotel itself, but open.

Balthazar is a multiple course, high-end sort of establishment, a quieter version of Brenner’s Grill but with the same focus on detail and perfection. The staff was kind enough to seat us despite not having a reservation, and accommodating to both CK’s and my dietary needs. They treated us to an espresso shot of fantastic tomato soup while we were poured a delicious German wine (I have a newfound appreciation for Germany through their wines now.) As the soup I was interested in having wasn’t safe for me (yellow lentil soup), they made a vegetable soup with a wonderfully fragrant consommé on the spot. When we finished, CK’s and my plates of truffled risotto of porcini with porte wine and parmesan arrived. It was superb.

We didn’t do this, but you can order Balthazar delights to be brought directly to your room. Perhaps next time…

A complete first for the both of us, we went to a purely plant based restaurant called La Mano Verde. It is a gastronomic experience for those who follow a vegetarian/vegan diet, and caters to both gluten free and raw food eaters.

We had a late dinner there, and based our orders on what we wanted to share together. (CK and I like to share. It’s special to us.) Thankfully, I made sure to check, but I had mistaken a main course for us to split to be gluten free when it wasn’t (the lemon pepper cappelletti). So after the creamy lime-almond gazpacho, we simply split the two starters (the ravioli blanc and the zucchini rolls) and switched the main courses (I had the garden lasagne instead).

The food was an experience. It felt like I was eating someone’s artwork more than a meal, but the presentation for all of the dishes were spot-on and perfect. The only problem that I wished I had considered was the richness of each dish. Raw foodies know how to add calories and protein to their diet, and practically every dish had some sort of nut or seed to add body to it. By the time our main dishes came out, I felt stuffed. I also felt the ravioli blanc was overwhelmingly sweet (probably had sugar added, which accounted for the less-than-awesome feeling after), and the lasagne was huge. It was very difficult to eat it gracefully, to be honest, and it wasn’t my favorite. We did, however, order the raw plum and walnut “cheese” cake to go to have for breakfast the next day, and I thought it was pretty good.

The only thing I wished I had mentioned before ordering was that I was gluten free (I know, I know... bad gluten free blogger). I was so embarrassed for forgetting, and I agree that was on me. The staff was very professional, but more standoffish than the warm welcome we’d experienced at Brenner’s Grill and at Balthazar.

CK surprised me with not one, but two places that offered gluten free pizza. After a day of walking, we ended up at this adorable restaurant called Ciela di Berlino. This place felt like the home of a very good friend we were visiting. The energy was warm and inviting, and we were served by quite possibly the friendliest woman in Berlin. She seemed delighted by our excitement trying their gluten free pizzas, and kept checking in with this knowing, mischievous smile that seemed to say, “See? I knew you would like it.” I even got to have beer (but not in my stein)! 

It was a total bro date, which included my first time seeing the East Side Gallery in person, and we loved it.

The second place, Simela, was smaller and just within walking distance of the hotel. The pizza here was also good, but the energy wasn’t as warm and inviting. It does, however, make pizzas to go, but we didn’t know that at the time. Like the other restaurant, any pizza listed could be made with a gluten free crust. They also had gluten free pasta (Schar’s brand), and we split their zucchini and mint pasta dish that had a white sauce (all it needed was a little more salt, but it was an interesting combination).

CK showed me a lot of historical sites, including Brandenburg, Checkpoint Charlie, the Pergamon Museum (I wanted to see the Ishtar Gate and was not disappointed, but a lot of the exhibits were under construction), and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (extremely haunting and thought-provoking). 

As this was my first vacation trip with a partner outside of a country we lived in, it was a very special occasion for me. And I found that, aside from feeling adult and capable, we grew closer because of the experience.

There is nothing quite like your first trip traveled together, and Germany made it all the more special for us.

(Also, feel free to post your gluten-free eating experiences in Germany below. Are there certain places in the country that are easier or harder to eat out at?)

All about Almonds [and Pesto]: a Superfood to get Nuts over

My earliest memories of enjoying nuts were at Christmastime. It was a tradition in my house to buy various types, still in the shells, to open with a nutcracker and make an absolute mess. I had a system: go for the walnuts, followed by pecans, then almonds, and maybe, if I was desperate, the Brazilian nuts and the hazelnuts.

I wasn’t really a nuts person unless it was peanut butter, and peanuts aren’t even nuts.

Over the years, my tastebuds shifted and their preferences expanded. Although peanut butter remains to be my favorite spread (I know, I know… what stereotypical U.S. American thing to say), I came to appreciate other nut varieties in buttered form, particularly almonds.

I’ve used almond meal and flour without much thought, because being a gluten free cook desensitizes you to what others may view as weird. Gluten free flours have different properties that make them excel in certain recipes over another. Almond flour, I find, works wonders in any baked good with a delicate crumb, such as piecrust, shortbread cookies, or biscuits.

Almonds seem like an international food. You see it in what people refer to as national dishes, and have been traditionally made from/with almonds since the recipe was made.

Recently, I had the exciting opportunity to collaborate with Nuts.com, an amazing family-owned company that sells, you guessed it, nuts. But they don’t just stop there. They sell practically anything you could want, including a huge variety of gluten free baking necessities, snacks, coffee and tea, and more. Their prices are more than reasonable, and most of the time I could expect shipping to be next day or within the same week. Their packaging is fun and quirky, and they always send a small sample package of something different with each purchase.

The company has been around since 1929, and their level of food quality and customer satisfaction had impressed me from the time I discovered their site. So when I was given the ability to talk about the amazing almond, a super hero for many diets, how could I not?

The shift of dietary perspectives has brought about the demand for quality, non-processed and unindustrialized food for many. More and more people are choosing wholefoods over junk. The terms ‘gluten free’ and ‘paleo’ are seen and understood almost everywhere, and so the usage of almond flour in baking isn’t as rare as it used to be.

High in fat and in protein, this wonderful superfood helps balance blood sugar, something I personally struggle with. It can be enjoyed in a number of ways, and it is perfect as a handful to jumpstart your metabolism, additional protein to any meal, and a fantastic indulgence. If you are wanting to increase your intake of this fabulous all around health nut, here are a few recipes I’ve made in the past that you could try:

Homemade Almond Butter

Late Night Chocolate Muffins

Paleo Pumpin Birthday "Cheese"cake

Primal Birthday Brownies

Mashed Potato Biscuit Hearts

When I first received the task, I asked friends and family and fans of Meals with Morri alike what I could make with almonds. Many voted for almond cookies or stir-fry, two fantastic ideas. However, being in Italy, CK and I decided on incorporating almonds in pesto.

Pesto is traditionally made with pine nuts, but I tend to avoid them for two reasons: one, I’m not really a fan of them; and two, they are goitrogenic unless cooked, and I tend to avoid foods that could potentially inhibit my thyroid’s health performance. But the beauty of pesto is that it is a labor of love. The process of making it using a mortar and pestle really shown through upon tasting it, and using almonds (or any sort of nut, really, like pistachios or walnuts) didn’t take anything away from the final product.

It was pesto, stupendous pesto, one that we raved over and wanted to make more of. The ingredients were healthful, and the usage of almonds just made it all the more delicious. So the next time you have an abundance of almonds, have a weekend that celebrates them in a variety of dishes, from coffee cake with streusel topping to stir fried sliced almonds with green beans.

Almond Pesto

2 Garlic cloves
40 g Fresh basil leaves
30 g Raw almonds, finely chopped**
40 g Pecorino Sardo
40 ml Olive oil
Sea salt, to taste

You have two options for making pesto. The easiest would be to simply put everything into the food processor, but it takes away a lot of the fun and, in CK’s and my humble opinion, the flavor. The way we did it, and the way I’m going to talk about, is using the mortar and pestle. The larger, the better. (Ours is on the medium-small side. We were able to do the entire recipe, but it required one person to mix and the other person to spoon back in the escaping pesto along the sides.)

Put the garlic clove pieces into the mortar and churn the pestle in strong, even strokes until it becomes a paste.
In small batches, add the basil, and break down the leaves to a creamy consistency (the pieces will not be regular, but the texture is significantly more smooth than if you would make pesto with a processor).
Follow with the crushed almonds (we used the food processor for this).
Incorporate the cheese until the color is constant and the texture is smooth, then add the olive oil.
Add the sea salt.

Serve immediately on, well, anything really, or refrigerate in a tightly lidded jar. While it may lose its bright green color the longer it sits, its flavor only intensifies. But considering how good it is, I doubt it will last very long in the house anyway.

Buon appetito!

Ti Amo, Roma: Life Changing Pizza

There is something about Rome, about the Italian people, really, that truly opens your eyes. Every culture has contributed and continues to contribute positively to the world, and it feels like I never really understood the joy of eating until I came here.

I will be here until May, and during this time I’ve broken down my goals to certain days of the week. While CK is off teaching, I’m at home job searching, learning chemistry, practicing Italian and Irish, working on my drawing technique, light housework and, of course, cooking.

The way Italians think about food is contagious. They know how to eat and how to enjoy it with others. There is such pride in their food. It is fresh, wholesome, simple, and traceable (I mean, how would you not be able to visit the place of your favorite cheese if they didn’t). But the simplicity of their dishes brings out the complexity of flavor. You can taste and name every ingredient, and all the while feeling daring.

Having CK as a partner has encouraged me to try new things, mostly because his willingness to participate, and has been wonderfully supportive of me facing my fears about food. Over Valentine’s Day weekend, we made donuts. They were delicious flops, completely oil-filled and cakey, but for the first time in years I had a deep fried, sugary food.

Another weird thing about me is that I struggle with the idea of more than one carbohydrate being on a plate. That would mean no bread to soak up the remaining red sauce from a pasta dish at dinner (if I could), or have waffles and hash browns as part of the same breakfast, or rice and potatoes in the same stew. It wasn’t to the point of me squealing in disgust, but the concept just didn’t make sense to me. It was weird and oddly frightening.

In Italy there is a type of pizza called pizza patate: a white pizza with, you guessed it, potatoes on top. When CK first described the dish to me, I was appalled. Why on Earth would you do that? What was the appeal? Did it even taste good? To which CK replied yes, indeed it does.

I’ve experienced a lot of healing moments since 2014. Despite the hardship of living alone in Malta, I came to really feel connected to my body and honoring its needs for the first time. Food was no longer something to be afraid of, but embraced and shared. And I fully admit that Italian cheeses have ruined it for me: I’ve yet to taste better than my first Mozzarella di Bufala Compana ball, or the sacred moment of placing a melty forkful of smoked Scamorza straight from the hot oven and into my mouth.

Since having the donut, and seeing that the world did not, in fact, end, I wanted to see what else my fears of food deprived me off. And for over a year, CK and I would talk about pizza patate in passing, and for the first time since then, I wasn’t squicked by the idea, but rather intrigued.

Last weekend, as we were recovering from Week 1 of Shaun T’s Insanity workout (yep, we’re both doing it!), we wanted to celebrate with a thin pizza. Surprisingly, I think I said I wanted to see what pizza patate was all about, and so that is what we did.

We think we can improve the toppings a bit, but the crust… the crust was a game changer.

Both CK and I believe it is the best we’ve ever made, and most certainly the best that I’ve ever had. It held together beautifully, and the taste reminded me of a good, thin pizza crust. We do want to play around with the rise, perhaps using sparkling water instead of still (this trick is wonderful for bagels, by the way), but we’ll keep you updated. We also used this dough to make a huge, albiet bursting, calzona. 

Thin Pizza Crust (recipe ratio and technique adapted from this recipe)

1 package Active dry or fresh yeast
1 tsp. Honey (use coconut sugar for a vegan option)
240 ml warm water, 105-115°F (40-46°C)
120 g Teff flour
120 g Glutinous rice flour
120 g Chickpea flour
1 tsp. Sea salt
1 tbsp. Extra-virgin olive oil, plus additional for brushing

In a small bowl, dissolve the yeast and honey in 60 ml warm water.
In a large bowl, combine the flour and the salt, then add the oil, the yeast mixture, and the remaining 180 ml of water.
Mix until the entire mixture forms a ball.
Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface.
Knead by hand until the dough is smooth and firm.
Cover the dough with a clean, damp towel and let it rise in a cool spot for about 2 hours.
Divide the dough into 2 balls.
Work each ball by pulling down the sides and tucking under the bottom of the ball.
Repeat 4 or 5 times, and then on a smooth, clean surface (not floured), roll the ball under the palm of your hand until the top of the dough is smooth and firm.
Cover the dough with a damp towel and let rest 1 hour. (At this point, the balls can be wrapped in plastic and refrigerated for up to 2 days.)
Preheat oven to 500°F (260°C) or highest temp.
Lightly oil a medium-large cookie sheet with extra-virgin olive oil on parchment paper.
Roll out one of the dough ball, on a lightly floured surface (I typically use a roller for this part), to the shape of your cookie sheet.
Carefully transfer dough to cookie sheet, lightly press and stretch out to the edges of sheet.
Add your favorite sauce (not too much) and toppings (again, not too much).
Cook for 10 - 12 minutes or more depending on the thickness of crust due to size of pan you used.

Each pizza ball makes 1 pizza, or two servings.

Eating Crespelle in time for Pancake Day

Every year since Meals with Morri began, I’ve missed two extremely important days of the year. More often than not, it would be a day later when everyone shares their take on the celebrations, and more often than not, I’d curse loudly.

But I was determined this year. I finally made it, and it came out beautifully. Finally, I was able to celebrate Mardi Gras, also known as Pancake Day!

As a kid, I didn’t eat pancakes as a way to indulge before Lent. I usually wore green, gold, and purple plastic beads and masks at school, and ate King Cake at home. Beyond that, it was just a fun way to mark the forty days before Easter. But with a food blog, I was more focused on pancakes.

There are two days that specifically celebrate pancakes during the year (as if you’d need a reason): Mardi Gras, or Shrove Tuesday, which falls on various dates depending on the year, and National Pancake Day (U.S.), which falls on September 26th. The former was historically to use up all of the indulgent ingredients before fasting. The latter is widely celebrated but is informal, kind of like someone saying:

“Hey man, we should get, like, as many people as possible to eat pancakes today.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”

I’m celebrating pancakes today. And upon further speculation, I realize Meals with Morri needs more pancake recipes.

Every country seems to take a different spin of what a pancake is. CK is a firm believer that pancakes and crêpes are different food dishes, and will often jokingly sigh and say, “They say pancakes, but they mean crêpes.” Personally, I think they are related: both are a flat griddled cake that varies in thinness, although he is technically right. Culinarily speaking, there is a difference between the two, and how they are eaten varies. Pancakes, thin or thick, are typically laid flat and eaten with toppings whatever ingredients you can think of. They also can have additional flavors added to the batter. Crêpes, however, can and do have toppings, but they also have fillings and are either folded or wrapped to accommodate them. Other than spices, adding anything remotely lumpy to crêpe batter will lead to a lumpy crêpe. And that's no buono.

But to celebrate being in Italy, I’ve included crêpes as part of Pancake Day. Why? Because, to me, pancakes and crêpes are family, and each country makes the dish its own unique way. Italians call their version crespelle. They appear to have the same ratio of ingredients as the French crêpe, but they have a multitude of uses I wouldn’t think to incorporate for recipes. They are baked, used much like lasagna noodles. They are cut up into slivers and put in soups. But they are also used like I have seen them prepared: filled and topped with amazing combinations. 

It's wonderful.

I’ve made crêpes twice before now, but this was a dish that CK believed I’d outdone myself with. The batter was perfectly thin and the crespelle themselves were easily flipped. There were no modifications I wanted to make on the flavor. He was right: we could do a lot of different things with this crespelle recipe. And believe me, we will.

I even made a video on my YouTube channel to show you how to make it!

I modified Manuela Zangara’s recipe for crespelle, which can be found on her food blog Manu’s Menu. The filling was the result of my asking a few of my Italian friends what fillings I should use, and someone replied by saying radicchio and cheese. Thus, radicchio and cheese.

Happy Mardi Gras (and Pancake Day), everyone! 

Crespelle with Radicchio and Gorgonzola Piccante

For the crespelle
350 ml milk
2 eggs
75 g buckwheat flour
90 g rice flour
30 ml melted butter
1 pinch salt

For the filling
1 Small red onion, finely diced
1 Garlic clove, finely chopped
1 head of Radicchio longo*, thinly sliced
200 g Gorgonzola Piccante**
100 g Mascarpone
15 g butter
1 tbsp. (10 g) Rice flour

Seasoned red sauce, hot, for topping***

Heat a batch of red sauce on low heat in a saucepan, and either keep warm or set aside for later.
In a medium bowl or pitcher, combine the egg and milk to form a mixture, followed by the dry ingredients and melted butter.
Set it aside for ten to fifteen minutes.
In either a crêpe pan or a large, flat sauté pan (I used a no chemical non-stick pan), melt a small piece of butter or a drizzle of olive oil on medium heat.
When the pan is ready, lift and tilt the pan sideways.
Use a ladle to pour the batter on the lowest side and swirl until the batter covers the bottom completely.
Let the crespella (sing. for crespelle) cook until the surface dries, and then flip to cook the other side for another thirty seconds or so.
Repeat the process until all of the batter has been used up, and set aside to be used immediately or stored for future meals.
Put another sauté pan (or the pan you used to make the crespelle) on medium heat, and lightly drizzle with oil.
Follow with the garlic, onion, and radicchio; cook until soft, and set aside.
Lastly, put the cheeses and butter in a small saucepan on medium-high heat, either directly over the stovetop or with a double boiler; once melted and thoroughly mixed, slowly add the rice flour.
Bring together the ingredients, the radicchio and melted cheese as a filling, and fold the crespelle to your preferred style and shape.
Top with the warm red sauce and serve hot.

Makes 8 crespelle.

*Radicchio comes in a few different varieties, but you will mostly find what are referred to as long (like Belgian Endive) or as a head (like a small cabbage) in your local market.
**Any semi-soft blue cheese would work in this recipe.
***Red sauce = tomato sauce.

(Completely unrelated, but there are apparently parts of Russia where it’s not Pancake Day, it’s Pancake Week. Seriously, why are we not doing this?)

No Yeast Belgian Waffles for Brunch

I have really come to appreciate waffles. Much like pancakes, they require more time than oatmeal or eggs in the mornings, and so it’s a treat to know that I have time to make them.

CK and I have different routines in making them: he tends to eat them as they come off the griddle until he is full, and I tend to wait until I’ve finished the entire batch. But we both drink coffee as we go, a very important part to the weekend breakfast making ritual. And we flirt relentlessly.

But I have a confession: indulging myself with sweetener is my current hurdle. I still think less than a tablespoon of honey in my afternoon tea constitutes as an indulgence. And so, while making Belgian waffles this weekend, one hand was holding up the coconut sugar bag and the other was contemplating how much was going into the batch, if any was at all. It’s one of the last “fears” of food I have. I am afraid of going too far (whatever the heck that means), of not stopping, and my body and confidence, which I worked so very hard on, would be gone in that instant. Forever.

Essentially, these waffles provided an existential conundrum for me, forcing me to really look at why I avoid added sugars like honey, maple syrup, and coconut sugar, demanding the true reason why I worry about these things. I don’t have any medical condition that tells me to moderate it with Spartan diligence. My palate is sensitive to sweet stuff anyway, and usually does not need to have additional sweetness to be sated. Both are the reasons as to why I typically use banana or other pureed fruits in baking. 

But then I think of how this fear hinders me, how it had kept me from trying recipes simply because it was an indulgence. I want to make donuts and cakes and cookies. I want perfect cinnamon rolls and homemade chocolate chips. I want to enjoy gelato without care. 

And so, as CK and I were making waffles, drinking coffee and sharing our excitement in how much closer our visit was becoming, I looked down at the coconut sugar bag, scooped a heaping tablespoonful, and mixed it in.

It may not seem like a big deal, but it was a healing experience for me to care less than I had known to in the past. And they turned out to be one of the best Belgian Waffle batches I’d ever made. 

Yeast-free Belgian Waffles (inspiration from this recipe)

500 ml Half and half (or 250 ml each Whole Milk and Cream)
3 Large eggs, separated
120 g Brown rice flour
30 g Flaxseed meal
60 g Chickpea flour
1/4 tsp. Sea salt
1/2 tsp. Baking soda
1 tsp. Cream of tartar
1 (heaping) tbsp. Coconut sugar
3 tbsp. Butter, unsalted
Zest of 1 Lemon

Preheat the waffle iron to the manufacturer’s instructions.
In a large bowl or blender, combine the half and half and egg yolks.
Add the remaining ingredients, excluding the egg whites, and combine thoroughly.
In a smaller bowl, whip the egg whites into soft peaks using a whisk or hand blender, and gently fold them into the batter.
If instructed, lightly brush the waffle iron plates with your preference of oil and pour enough of the batter to cover.
Let it cook until the first waffle is a nice golden brown and repeat the process.
Serve warm with your favorite toppings! (This is a sweet waffle recipe, so it will likely do better with sweeter ingredients, such as fruit, maple syrup, and ice cream.)

Depending on your waffle iron, it will make four or more waffles.