One-Pan Crispy Chicken Legs & Brussels Sprouts {Gluten-Free & Paleo}

Brussels sprouts, oh how I love thee. It’s taken us a long time to get here, but I’m so glad we did.
When I was a kid, I was fairly certain Brussels sprouts were evil. These were clearly tiny cabbages made of nightmares, sent here to earth by aliens  in order to slowly poison us humans (I’ve always has a slight flare for the dramatic). It’s not that my parents were forcing me to eat them. Quite the contrary. We never ate sprouts at home, ever. I think my parents were also skeptical that these lil’ veggies weren’t indeed just the devil neatly disguised in a tiny cabbage suit. If my mom (the Lima Bean Pusher) was skeptical of a vegetable, I was pretty sure it must be  heinous. The only time I had fully experienced the Brussels sprout was through a friend. I was staying the night at friends house, and her mother insisted I eat my vegetables before I left the table. I thought, sure. Fine. I love veggies. This should be no big deal. And, then it happened. A slotted spoon emerged from a pot of lightly stained green liquid. A mushy pile of lifeless sprouts made a sad little mountain on my plate. These sprouts were boiled to disaster. They were bitter and mushy. I had entered into my own nightmare, and the only way out was with hasty large bites and a lot of water. Awful.  […]

Hold up, G. You’re going to put what WHERE? | Washing Your Face With Food (Part 1)

Yes, I took the time to take a picture of me enthusiastically holding food to my face. It’s only going to get weirder… buckle up. We’re gonna talk skincare. I’m gonna be putting that food right on my face.
A few months back, I found myself in a  heated argument with my skin. I had recently come off of oral contraceptives, and my skin was letting me know that it disapproved of my life choices. It fought back with dry patches and a heck of a greasy T-zone. Then there was Carl. Carl was the angry blemish that kept on rearing his rosy head right on my chin. He was big and unsightly and a little bit of a diva. Kind of like that really loud friend you had in college that  you could never seem to lose at a party. That’s Carl. He had to go.
I was using some of the most “gentle” facial cleaners on the market, but my skin still felt itchy, dry and just stressed the heck out.  One morning,  I was reaching for my bottle of cleanser and just happened to flip that thing around to the ingredients. Whoa. I have no idea what any of that stuff is. Chemicals abound.  There were probably forty ingredients in there, and all of them seemed to just be feeding Carl and his host of real bossy friends that seemed to be joining the party with each passing day. I was hosting a rave on my chin. Enough is enough.  […]

Fig & Dark Chocolate Scones {Gluten Free & Paleo}

For most of my life, I thought Figs were a mythical kind of fruit. You know, like the fruit equivalent to a Pegasus or a Griffin.
To be fair, I never actually saw a whole fig in the flesh until my adult life. I had two fig references in my wheelhouse:
1) Fig Newtons: A delightful snacking cookie. I thought the person who made these cookies was named Mr. Fig Newton. I once asked my Grandfather what the filling was inside these cookies, to which he replied “something prunes.” As you can imagine, this threw me off the scent. As far as I was concerned Mr. Fig Newton was sitting in his house baking cookies filled with “something prunes.” I asked no questions.
2) Christmas Caroling: You know those lyrics in We Wish You A Merry Christmas? There is a whole verse where we demand something called “figgy pudding.” In my mind this sounded totally gross, and I didn’t ask questions. I assumed this so-called pudding was probably mushy, stinky, and something from tales of yore. I had visions of people clad in bonnets and bodices scooping chunks of wobbly pudding out into the hands of Christmas carolers. Whatever this stuff was, it was for sure old timey, as I’d never heard of it in my modern world. What ancient sorcery was this?  I don’t know. Maybe it was “something prunes.” Probably “something prunes.” […]

Banana Nut Granola With Quinoa

I am in the weeds, Friends. I will admit this to you wholeheartedly. I am truly behind. My kitchen has taken a backseat to life lately. Surely you understand this. I can’t be the only one who gets overwhelmed by life and ends up drinking one kind of smoothie, slapping ham on toast and eating handfuls of spinach straight out of the bag. This is a thing right? Besides baking different variations of this bread to cart off to my family, I have not exactly flexed the muscles in my food brain. It’s losing muscle mass. It’s sitting there in a smoothie rut. Flabby. We can’t have this, right? Let’s tell my food brain to wake up and go for a walk.
On Tuesday morning this is exactly what I did. I sprung out of bed and decided it was time to create something that was not toast. Also, my husband had been not so subtly hinting  for a couple of weeks that he would be utterly thrilled if I would replenish the granola stash. While we were grocery shopping he decided he might get some sort of sugary cereal, I told him I didn’t like his moves, he told me that if I made granola he wouldn’t even be considering it. Touche. Point taken. There was also a week where the empty granola canister kept appearing on the counter magically as if to say “GRANOLA! NOW!” I am not sure how it got there. I did not put it there. I don’t think the cat or the dog have the dexterity to grab the canister from out of the pantry and place it on the counter. This only leaves one human. I am not going to point fingers, but I will give you a hint…I am married to him. […]