Homemade Gingerbread Almond Butter

Homemade Gingerbread Almond ButterHey you! Yes, you, out there, behind the screen.

You’re magnificent.

And by that, of course, I mean that you are extremely wonderful. Tremendously fabulous.

Your responses to my last post? Incredible. Thank you. For your understanding, and your kindness. For reading, and for being you.

Homemade Gingerbread Almond ButterI’ve had a lovely past few days filled with friendship, laughter, heart-strengthening words, cooking adventures, more friendship, and more laughter. I’ve switched back from feeling like sobs are hiding in my chest to sneaking skips on the sidewalk again.

I’m very lucky to have people nestled so deeply in my heart, both here in North America and Australia (as well as a sprinkling of other continents, too).

Soul-friendships are magnificent. And by that, of course, I mean extremely wonderful.

Homemade Gingerbread Almond ButterThe third magnificent and extremely wonderful thing in today’s post is this homemade gingerbread almond butter, which is almost as delicious, almost as uplifting, almost as rich and complex, almost as addictive and almost as wildly glorious as the act of living itself.

Roasted almonds are turned into a thick yet silky nut butter kissed with the dark intensity of blackstrap molasses, dazzled with a hint of smoky-caramel coconut sugar, deepened with heady spices, and rounded out with a little vanilla and sea salt.

It’s impossible to stop at one spoonful of this spiced almond butter. It’s not too sweet, yet it sings with the same joy that dessert brings. Equally at home on toast, a carrot, coconut ice cream, or simply your lips, I think you’ll want to make this soon.

Because it’s almost as wonderful as you are.

Homemade Gingerbread Almond Butter

Submitted to Ricki’s Wellness Weekend, Healthy Vegan Friday, and Allergy-Friendly Lunchbox Love.

Raw Vegan Eats in Kansas City: FÜD and Café Gratitude

Amber at FÜD

When you spend three weeks living with a certified (literally) raw foods chef and cookbook author, it goes without saying that you’ll eat many delicious raw food creations.

Sometimes you’ll get to do so at home without having to change out of your pyjamas (even if your pyjamas aren’t really pyjamas at all, but a black leggings/tank top combination that makes you feel like Audrey Hepburn doing her existentialist dance). Other times, though, you’ll need to spruce up in order to visit raw food restaurants.

FÜD, Kansas City

As soon as I stepped inside FÜD and found myself bedazzled by its brightly coloured and eclectic décor, I knew Amber had brought me to a place of joy (this was before I’d even seen the sparkling blue horse in the bathroom. A painting, that is. Not an actual horse).

Nachos, FÜD, Kansas City

FÜD’s Nachos came as a colourful mountain of chips, cashew nacho cheddar, cashew lemon cream, salsa, and guacamole, and dear heavens was that cashew nacho cheddar sauce good. So salty, but so good good good.

Hannah with Rainbow Salad, FÜD, Kansas City

The Rainbow Salad of mixed greens with apples, carrots, tomato, squash, cucumber and pecans (to which I added two scoops of FÜD’s Wild Mild raw taco filling, made from wild rice and mushrooms) was fresh, vibrant, sweet-salty-nutty, and surprisingly filling.

Rainbow Salad, FÜD, Kansas City

Next up was Café Gratitude, an amusing and quirky restaurant not far from Amber’s apartment. Amusing both in terms of the names of the dishes (you’ll see), and because our waitress looked directly at Amber to ask “Have you been here before?”, apparently not realising that Amber’s cookbook was displayed for purchase on the Café Gratitude counter right next to us.

I Am Humble, Cafe Gratitude, Kansas City

I wanted to proclaim this fact to the waitress, but Amber wouldn’t let me. Perhaps because she ordered the I Am Humble?

I Am Fortified, Cafe Gratitude, Kansas City

Matt was manly and went for the I Am Fortified meal, which I ended up wishing I’d ordered because…

I am Gorgeous, Cafe Gratitude, Kansas City

… my I Am Gorgeous salad was the opposite of FÜD’s satisfying salad, in that it was pretty much just a pile of salad greens with a scattering of hemp and a tiny handful of figs and apples. I was starving again ten minutes after finishing.

Unjunked Peanut Butter CupUnjunked Peanut Butter Cup

Unjunked Peanut Butter Cup

Just as well I have endless stashes of candy, chocolate (Unjunked Peanut Butter Cups = tasty, but Unjunked Peanut Butter Cups < Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups), and flavoured nuts (the glazed pecans were the best by far) in my suitcase at all times.

Emerald Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter NutsEmerald Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Nuts

P.S. See Amber’s take on these restaurants here.

Almond and Coconut Cake with Raspberries, Dairy-Free and Gluten-Free

Gluten-free and Dairy-free Almond and Coconut Cake with RaspberriesThere are times when baking is not only a pleasure but a necessity.

I’m not referring to the times when food needs to appear on the table because someone (ahem) is on the verge of turning into Cranky Starving Dragon Wo/Man. That’s a time of cooking-necessity, not baking-necessity.

The moments when baking is absolutely essential are the moments when heart and soul need respite from the world; when the simple acts of measuring, stirring, folding, sweetening, flavouring, rising, caramelising, and offering coalesce into a tangible representation of the world making sense, of love and contentment existing.

Gluten-free and Dairy-free Almond and Coconut Cake with RaspberriesThis weekend, I moved to my parents’ place to house-sit, worked at the office on Saturday and from home on Sunday, and spent a significant amount of time cleaning the carpet on my hands and knees, because, well, our family dog is getting very old.

I can’t be mad at her, though. How can I feel anything but love for the creature who, as I sit with my legs curled under me scrubscrubbing, silently pads up from behind and rests her head on my thigh, looking up at me sadly with her big brown eyes?

All she deserves is cuddles.

Gluten-free and Dairy-free Almond and Coconut Cake with RaspberriesAmidst the cleaningworkingcleaningworking, I set aside some time for just-me, and baked this Almond and Coconut Cake with Raspberries. It’s gluten-free, dairy-free, and truly wonderful. It’s moist, nutty, perfumed with coconut and vanilla, and jewelled with raspberries.

I took half to my grandparents, and we talked together over tea, laughing, hoping, pondering. “This cake is lovely, dear,” my grandma said. “No,” my grandpa interjected. “It’s scrumptious.”

And that’s good enough for me.

Gluten-free and Dairy-free Almond and Coconut Cake with Raspberries

Tesco Finest Organic Ecuadorian 39% Milk Chocolate with Caramelised Salted Almonds

I’d like to think I have a pretty good memory, but there are parts of my life that, try as I might, I simply can’t recall.

I can’t remember what my parents gave me for my eleventh birthday.

I can’t remember why, when I was twelve, I thought it would be a good idea to deliberately touch my hair to a shimmering-with-heat electric hotplate.

I can’t remember what happened in American Gods, although I remember thinking it was fantastic.

I can’t remember when I stopped eating half a hot buttered (okay, Nuttelexed) bagel for afternoon tea every day after school.

I can’t remember what it’s like not to yearn for travel in a way that, honest-to-goodness, sometimes feels like I’m endlessly stamping my foot inside.

I can’t remember eating this Tesco Finest Organic Ecuadorian 39% Milk Chocolate with Caramelised Salted Almonds. However, I have the photos and tasting notes to prove that I did, so let’s have a go at this review anyway.

Tesco Finest Organic Ecuadorian 39% Milk Chocolate with Caramelised Salted Almonds

Tesco Finest Organic Ecuadorian 39% Milk Chocolate with Caramelised Salted AlmondsI do remember where I bought this chocolate. It was in a Tesco supermarket in Gatwick, where I stayed for one night at a lovely B&B before my flight to Germany the next day. I remember finding Neighbours playing on the television (and not watching it), and I remember talking to the female B&B owner about allergy-friendly desserts that she could make for her guests.

I don’t remember that this chocolate was comprised of 39% milk chocolate (that’s only 1% less than Nestlé’s “dark” chocolate chips. Harrumph to Nestlé, say I.) I don’t remember that 25% of this Tesco chocolate was, in fact, caramelised salted almonds and not chocolate, but my photo of the packet says so, and photos don’t lie.

Except when they’re of photo-shopped celebrities, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

Tesco Finest Organic Ecuadorian 39% Milk Chocolate with Caramelised Salted Almonds

I don’t remember that the aroma was strong in butter toffee notes, and that the first bite similarly delivered flavours of toffee and nut brittle followed quickly by zings of salt.

I don’t remember that, at the same time, every bite of the chocolate was perfumed with floral almond notes, even the nibbles that were ostensibly almond-free. I don’t remember writing that “the salt doesn’t punch you in the face but is there, always, with almonds constantly threading through and complexifying the flavour”.

Tesco Finest Organic Ecuadorian 39% Milk Chocolate with Caramelised Salted Almonds

I don’t remember thinking that the chocolate had cream and caramel flavours as well as something enticingly dusky in tone, like golden syrup mixed with nuttiness and caramel fudge.

I don’t remember any of the above, but my words, saved months ago on the computer, prove that I did, in fact, once upon a time, enjoy this chocolate.

And who needs memories when you have tangible typed proof?

Exactly.

Tesco Finest Organic Ecuadorian 39% Milk Chocolate with Caramelised Salted AlmondsQuestion Time: What can’t you remember? (Please ignore that fact that this question is a contradiction in terms. I have faith in your ability to answer regardless.)

Vosges Barcelona Bar

Each time I dip into my stash of Vosges to slowly savour another bar of chocolate-y deliciousness, I find myself saddened by the dwindling nature of the stash.

Why can’t Vosges be like Tim Tams, and never run out? Is the paucity of Vosges chocolate in my life the universe’s way of telling me that it’s time I head back to the United States? Because, universe, I hear you loud and clear. However, what I don’t hear is you delivering me a plane ticket. (Or a visa.) All I hear, dear universe, is silence. Sad, chocolate-devoid, America-missing silence.

But I’ll keep listening, I promise. And until the stork delivers me a bundle of return flights to The Land Whose President Is Messing Up My Work’s Annual Conference, I’ll simply keep eating the chocolate.

Vosges Barcelona Bar

Vosges Barcelona BarVosges’ Barcelona Bar, comprised of hickory smoked almonds, sea salt, and 45% dark milk chocolate, was one of my favourite Vosges chocolate bars when I was at UVA. I bought it several times as endorphin-support during long hours of studying (hey, it was healthier than mainlining No-Doz like so many of my fellow students did), and as a result its flavour is intertwined in my mind with reading Maud Martha, writing essays about funeral practices throughout history, and hearing my suitemates pop popcorn in the tiny little microwave outside my door.

But that’s all beside the point. After all, a chocolate can’t really taste like:

Yellow jewels for everyday… She liked [the dandelions’] demure prettiness second to their everydayness; for in that latter quality she thought she saw a picture of herself, and it was comforting to find that what was common could also be a flower. (Maud Martha, p.2, Gwendolyn Brooks)

Vosges Barcelona BarWhat this chocolate truly tastes like is smoky and caramelly almost-but-not-quite-dark-so-must-be-milk chocolate with hints of maple syrup and buttery toffee. The not-too-sweet 45% milk chocolate is shot through with a deep roasted nuttiness, a nuttiness that permeates even the bites that don’t hide almonds within.

The sea salt flickers at you like sparklers at a bonfire night, dazzling you for just a second before disappearing into the night. Wait, no, I mean “disappearing into the almond-strong caramel-tinged chocolate”.

Vosges Barcelona BarUnlike some Vosges bars that I might mention, the Barcelona Bar tastes definitively of every flavour it’s purported to have. The smoked almonds are there, the sea salt is there, the chocolate is, quite obviously, there. Woodsy, salty, smoky, buttery, nutty, caramelly, delicious. Vosges Barcelona Bar is one of its most reliable and enjoyable creations, and one I’d happily pick up again, if only it existed in Australia.

Vosges Barcelona BarQuestion Time: Are there any books you read at school that stand out as something you’re glad you “had” to read?