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YummlyItalians know it well, making gnocchi without the right potatoes can be a key for disaster. Imagine making gluten free paleo gnocchi that are potato free as well! …That’s one tough recipe to come up with! I remember my grandpa, when I was a little girl, carefully selecting potatoes from the carriage loaded of produce he would bring home from the fields. He always made sure that my grandma would only used the best, starchier tubers to prepare her infamous gnocchi recipe, that we used to enjoy seasoned with a sage, gorgonzola and Parmigiano sauce. So many wonderful family lunches had this dish as a protagonist!! Today, I want to show you guys how I turn these epic gnocchi memories into reality without potatoes, flour and respecting the paleo, grain free canons as well! How Can You Make Your Gnocchi Be Paleo?!? I know your concerns. And before I tried this recipe, I was very skeptical too. But you know what? Not only is it possible to make this recipe paleo. It’s also possible to make AIP (Auto Immune Paleo) as well, as it’s also free from nightshades (potatoes, tomatoes, eggplants and peppers). The key for the success of this recipe lies in the replacements. And here I really want to stress on the important of using the right kind of squash to replace potatoes. Kabocha Squash, also known as Japanese Pumpkin or Buttercup Squash, has a very distinctive, chestnut like flavor, and its firm and starchy consistency is perfect to replace white potatoes when making potato free gnocchi. As for the paleo, grain free flours we can chose to replace regular wheat flour, cassava is by far the best choice. Starches like tapioca or arrowroot would make your gnocchi taste like glue. Trust me, I made that mistake before and I talk by experience ;( Cassava flour instead, keeps your paleo gnocchi dough nicely together while still keeping their final texture soft and delicious to eat.A Gnocchi Sauce for Everyone! As you’ll have the chance to test yourself, this paleo gnocchi recipe is a much lighter, healthier version of the original. And because I know that you all have different preferences when it comes to seasonings, I prepared two different kinds of sauces: one for the Balsamico lovers (just like me) and one for those who don’t want to give up their beloved cheese sauce (just like my husband)!YummlyBuffalo Chicken, Bacon and Sweet Potato Noodle Skillet is a party in a skillet! This flavor-packed, gluten-free dinner recipe is spicy, flavored with ranch-inspired seasonings, and so much fun to eat.Food.comFinally, a gluten free cereal that is high in fiber, tasty and doesn't cost you $5 a box! This is wonderfully satisfying, similar to All-Bran or Fiber-One cereals, and very easy to make! I created this recipe by modifying a bran flakes recipe I found online so that it would be gluten free (original recipe by Homemaking booket, Mormon Church, 1978 - found at astray.com). Be warned, you don't need to eat much to be full with this cereal (roll it as thin as you can)! NOTE: I am still working on perfecting this recipe (so there may be updates), but just had to share with my fellow celiacs!Food.comA wonderful tradition from Northern England, in particular from the county of Yorkshire; this wonderful gingerbread is traditionally eaten on the 5th November which is Bonfire Night, also called Guy Fawkes night or Fireworks Night. There are many ways to make ginger parkin; this is my recipe for this deliciously, sticky and dark gingerbread with oats. This recipe is an egg free parkin, and I was always told that Parkin should NEVER contain eggs in it, whether that is true or not, I'm not sure! Try to plan ahead when you make this recipe, it is MUCH better when kept for 2 to 3 days before eating, as it become stickier and more intense in flavour. This keeps for up to 2 weeks in an airtight container and freezes well, if there is any left! I use jumbo porridge oats in my parkin, for a nice chewy texture - but any porridge oats or oatmeal will be suitable. Please note, if you make this with the suggested alternatives of corn syrup and molasses, it will not be quite the same flavour, but it should still be sticky!Food.comThis carefully adapted bread machine recipe makes a superb, wonderfully light and open-textured French style loaf, but smaller than most - ideal for one or two people. This recipe is also much lower calorie and lower fat than most and is sugar-free, lactose-free and egg-free. The small size is perfect if, like me, you live alone and adore fresh baked bread but find most bread machine loaves are just too big unless you eat nothing but bread all day or you don't mind it a bit stale / defrosted. This is my favourite loaf and I make it a lot. A couple of things I've learned from the various modifications I've experimented with are: Don't use water COLD and straight from the tap if possible - do let it warm up to room temperature before using for this loaf. French loaves are made differently to other breads and this is quite important. I used to use filtered tap water, but found that any cheap bottled spring water makes sufficient improvements in taste that its worth using if you have it to hand. I almost always add Vitamin C Powder (you get it from Pharmacy) as it is a recognised major flour improver and additionally helps the bread keep fresh for longer. Original recipe called for 15g butter but I 've found this is vastly excessive unless you care for the buttery richness. I do in my scones and shortbread - not in my white bread. Have personally found that 9g of (firm) baking margarine gives wonderful taste and texture. Commercially, vegetable oil is used for French bread and I like it just fine with oil - at least for health purposes - it becomes more savoury too. 1/2 a tablespoon is plenty. If you are looking for a small, exceedingly healthy white loaf with wonderfully light and moist texture then do give this a run - I'm sure you'll be delighted!Food.comI recently purchased the new Hungry Girl Cookbook and this is one of the first recipes that I am going to try. Here is what the book says: "Not to sound like a cheesy commercial, but this soup is so thick, it "eats like a meal." It's almost too easy to prepare a super-sized batch, and it tastes even better the next day! (HG Tip: Freeze leftovers in individual servings for microwavable, super-filling, guilt-free snacks)." UPDATE NOTE 9/7/2008: I made this recipe today for dinner but I made just a couple changes: 1) I used 16 ounces Perdue Ground Chicken (hubby wanted more meat!) and 2) I cooked it all in my crockpot on Low for about 8 hours. Hubby and I had it for dinner and it was awesome! I posted a picture also. The change to the ground chicken changed the points value to 4 points per generous 1 cup serving. I hope you all enjoy as much as we did!YummlyThank you so much for this recipe! We eat a lot of chicken because I do WW and chicken breasts are free. All I did differently was used low fatFood52It took us 47 emails to figure out what we’d serve. We bounced from side to main to starter and back to main, virtually piling chana masala on top of chard and Gruyère panade on top of broiled mushrooms and mozzarella. Someone had the enlightened idea to address cocktails circa email 25. (Pamplemousses, if you’d like to know.) We had a globally-confused menu yielding enough to feed 20 but destined for only our small group, but it didn't matter: It was a dinner party comprised solely of recipes from Molly Wizenberg’s Orangette. Excess was in order. But the story arc of our epic thread peaked high and early. Following are emails 11 and 12, edited for clarity: “YES BRAISED ONION SAUCE” “BRAISED ONION SAUCE" The reason why all capital letters was a justified choice is disguised in a very short ingredient list from an almost middle-aged book. This braised onion sauce comes from Beard on Pasta, authored by the same man who expects us to put sieved egg yolks in our shortcakes; who dares us to put 40 cloves of garlic in our chicken; and who requests that we make lovely little tea sandwiches and fill their pillow-y insides with nothing but butter and raw onion. It’s a member of the same class, this pasta–just strange enough for you to assume it will fail you, and made up of ingredients so run-of-the-mill they border on drab. Excepting the noodles, you’re asked to call on only six ingredients for this recipe. The yellow onions languishing in the dark corner of your pantry? You’ll need those. Madiera? You’ve got a dusty bottle on a high shelf somewhere, right? If you don't have pasta somewhere in your kitchen I can't help you. This is the political science prerequisite of ingredient lists. Are you still awake? But look a little closer: There’s a borderline obscene amount of butter. And you cook the onions for as long as you can possibly stand it–sautéing slow and low is nothing if not a tantric exercise–and then you cook them a little more, this time soaked in Madiera. What you’ve created is the highest form of caramelized onions known to man. Are you scared of the amount of butter pooling in the pan? Good. Add some more. Then overturn a skein of hot pasta in there, too, its carryover steam loosening everything up, keeping it limber. Toss, and like a couple in the early throes of infatuation, the onions and the pasta will tangle together: the former disappears into the latter, the latter into the former. You’ll detest them for their unabashed PDA, but only for a minute–they are sweet, they are a little salty, they are drunk on syrupy wine. Serve this at your next dinner party, like we did, and understand the capital letters, the exclamations, Beard’s well-known–and well-observed–idea that “pasta is not a mannerly food to eat.” If you make this with pappardelle, which you should, portions forklifted from the serving dish will stretch and stretch, much like the endless scarf trick the magician at your third grade party performed two times too many. Some unwilling strands of pasta will walk the plank and land smack on the table. Try to take a bite–half your plate will spiral onto your fork. You will abandon everything your mother taught you. And you’ll come back to it over and over again, because–despite your manners and those of your guests–this dish tastes worlds deeper than the ingredient list promises it will. And therein lies the genius of James Beard recipes: You scoff and then you love. You scoff and then you are put in your place. You scoff, and then you’ll want to scream this recipe from the rooftops–or into your keyboard, on email 12. Note: This recipe is lightly adapted from James Beard's "Beard on Pasta." He originally calls for two sticks of butter—which you are welcome to do—but I find (as Molly at Orangette has too) that it works just as well with less. I use pappardelle, but feel free to switch that up. It's only important that you make this dish often.Food52It took us 47 emails to figure out what we’d serve. We bounced from side to main to starter and back to main, virtually piling chana masala on top of chard and Gruyère panade on top of broiled mushrooms and mozzarella. Someone had the enlightened idea to address cocktails circa email 25. (Pamplemousses, if you’d like to know.) We had a globally-confused menu yielding enough to feed 20 but destined for only our small group, but it didn't matter: It was a dinner party comprised solely of recipes from Molly Wizenberg’s Orangette. Excess was in order. But the story arc of our epic thread peaked high and early. Following are emails 11 and 12, edited for clarity: “YES BRAISED ONION SAUCE” “BRAISED ONION SAUCE" The reason why all capital letters was a justified choice is disguised in a very short ingredient list from an almost middle-aged book. This braised onion sauce comes from Beard on Pasta, authored by the same man who expects us to put sieved egg yolks in our shortcakes; who dares us to put 40 cloves of garlic in our chicken; and who requests that we make lovely little tea sandwiches and fill their pillow-y insides with nothing but butter and raw onion. It’s a member of the same class, this pasta–just strange enough for you to assume it will fail you, and made up of ingredients so run-of-the-mill they border on drab. Excepting the noodles, you’re asked to call on only six ingredients for this recipe. The yellow onions languishing in the dark corner of your pantry? You’ll need those. Madiera? You’ve got a dusty bottle on a high shelf somewhere, right? If you don't have pasta somewhere in your kitchen I can't help you. This is the political science prerequisite of ingredient lists. Are you still awake? But look a little closer: There’s a borderline obscene amount of butter. And you cook the onions for as long as you can possibly stand it–sautéing slow and low is nothing if not a tantric exercise–and then you cook them a little more, this time soaked in Madiera. What you’ve created is the highest form of caramelized onions known to man. Are you scared of the amount of butter pooling in the pan? Good. Add some more. Then overturn a skein of hot pasta in there, too, its carryover steam loosening everything up, keeping it limber. Toss, and like a couple in the early throes of infatuation, the onions and the pasta will tangle together: the former disappears into the latter, the latter into the former. You’ll detest them for their unabashed PDA, but only for a minute–they are sweet, they are a little salty, they are drunk on syrupy wine. Serve this at your next dinner party, like we did, and understand the capital letters, the exclamations, Beard’s well-known–and well-observed–idea that “pasta is not a mannerly food to eat.” If you make this with pappardelle, which you should, portions forklifted from the serving dish will stretch and stretch, much like the endless scarf trick the magician at your third grade party performed two times too many. Some unwilling strands of pasta will walk the plank and land smack on the table. Try to take a bite–half your plate will spiral onto your fork. You will abandon everything your mother taught you. And you’ll come back to it over and over again, because–despite your manners and those of your guests–this dish tastes worlds deeper than the ingredient list promises it will. And therein lies the genius of James Beard recipes: You scoff and then you love. You scoff and then you are put in your place. You scoff, and then you’ll want to scream this recipe from the rooftops–or into your keyboard, on email 12. Note: This recipe is lightly adapted from James Beard's "Beard on Pasta." He originally calls for two sticks of butter—which you are welcome to do—but I find (as Molly at Orangette has too) that it works just as well with less. I use pappardelle, but feel free to switch that up. It's only important that you make this dish often.
