I went a little crazy and unraveled (or frogged for those of you into the fiber arts) a project I just didn’t like. You can read about it over at Jordana Paige’s blog.

I also had a new post at Think Simple Now that I’m really proud of. It’s called Be More, Do Less. Please read, comment and share.

Thanks for all your support and compliments on my writing. I appreciate every single person who reads my stuff. It’s one of the big reasons I write, after all.

This stuff is so important to me, it made the cut when all I had were suitcases to transport me across the country. Sometimes I look through it and marvel at how decent a writer I was, although I’m also embarrassed about how large a percentage of it was about boys.

For many years I’ve struggled with being able to share things on this blog that weren’t “sunny” or optimistic. That’s why my friend and I started Collaborations of Abstraction. But I’ve realized that it isn’t just about sharing other things on this blog. It was about me writing those types of ideas and thoughts in general.

It got me thinking about those journals and about one poem in particular.

This was my first ever published piece of writing. My first byline. And it was thrilling to see my name in print. Unfortunately my excitement was short-lived because my parents weren’t so fond of me writing about being burned alive, even metaphorically speaking.

Much of my writing was like this. It wasn’t depressing (I didn’t think), but it made those closest to me uncomfortable. And while I’m sure they didn’t have any intention of stifling my creativity, the “Can’t you write something more happy? More upbeat?” started to change my style and myself.

It wasn’t until these last few years that I’ve discovered I balk at expressing my anger and sadness in words. I rarely wax poetic about frustration because, well, who wants to hear about that?

But then I’d read these “great American novelists” like Henry Miller and wonder how he got so damn successful emoting in such a negative way. Why on the Goddess’ green earth is The Great Gatsby such an amazing story when it’s so damn tragic?

These questions started to wrestle something out from deep within me. And of course the answer is so simple. Without light, there is no darkness. Without sadness, who could understand joy? Without Beethoven there would be no Icona Pop. That, my friends, would be terrible.

I’m making a genuine effort to feel and express all of my emotions in an adult way, no matter how uncomfortable it makes me. And that’s the thing. I could blame my family for my inability to express those thoughts, but they’re not me. I am. I’ve gotta own that.

And so as much as I would love to be all sunny all of the time, there’s gotta be a little wiggle room. I say this for my benefit. I doubt many of you will throw your hands in the air and say. “Well I’m done with her!”

And if you do, that’s fine. That doesn’t matter. The self-censorship stops now. And I’m talking about in all of my writing. Can you believe I edit myself in my journal? What kind of madness is that?

The censorship bureau has been terminated.

Are you censoring yourself? What emotions do you have trouble expressing? I encourage you to make a commitment to changing that. Learn from my experience. Because the more you deny that part of you, the less the other part means.

How much does optimism mean when it’s your auto-pilot? Are you really that nice if you have no boundaries? Once you discover the other parts of you, your personality and your life will flourish. And that actually sounds pretty amazing, doesn’t it?

I was visiting my dear friend Nicole and we spent most of our time cooking and relaxing in her beautiful backyard. Oh, bless the heat and humidity. How I’ve missed it. As one New Orleanian said about Santa Cruz, “I don’t know how you tolerate that perfect weather all the time.”

Nicole and I have been friends since 2007 when we met working for a newspaper. We’ve both moved on to bigger and better things since then, but she is one reason I’m not at all upset I worked for that company.

If it weren’t for Nicole, I don’t know when I would’ve crossed these states off my list, and I wouldn’t have learned (and relearned) a few things on this trip.

1. Stop with the preconceived notions already. I had this impression that the South was just a bunch of people hating on those damn Yankees, that no one cared about being active and everyone had a gun rack on their truck.

This, of course, is a bit of an exaggeration, but I realized when I got to Louisiana that I did have a lot of stereotypes playing in my head and they didn’t serve me. Would I have even thought to jog around the New Orleans Museum of Art? Would I have had a full-on conversation with a family about crawfish and good restaurants in the grocery store? 

Outside my comfort zone and totally worth it. Crawfish=delicious.

Nope. But thankfully I was with one of the coolest cats around, Nicole, and her mind is wide open. She reminded me why we spent so much time together when we both lived in Minneapolis. When I’m with her, I have some of the best adventures.

2. People who don’t have much are generally more kind. It’s been awhile since I’ve been to a poor part of the world. I lived in (iron ore) mining country, but nothing prepared me for the poverty I saw when I went to Honduras. Many parts of New Orleans are poor. Hell, even the rich parts of town aren’t in that great of shape.

But everyone, and I mean everyone was so genuinely friendly to me. Why? Because they actually talked to me. I was totally disarmed by this at first. I’m so used to this brisk conversation I usually have in passing. Surface conversation.

Everyone I talked to in the South wanted to chat, get to know my story and tell me theirs. The folks at the grocery store made sure I got some crawfish before they took the last because they knew I’d never had it. The cashier at another store told me all about her daughter who played the violin. She’s in sixth grade. Her son is a bit younger.

And let’s not forget the classic lagniappe: free dessert!

Now of course I’m not trying to get a preconceived notion in my head (totally negating my first point) but I will say that when I was in Honduras this same thing struck me. How could folks that had dirt floors get to know me better than my neighbor with 1500 square feet? It makes me want to be more grateful and more kind.

3. Not drinking in New Orleans is hard. Not smoking is harder. I’ve started my training program for the spring, which means no more alcohol. When I set up my trip, this wasn’t on my radar, but about a month before I signed up for several races this summer and sobriety became the order of the day. And for the most part, that wasn’t too tough.

We still walked down Bourbon Street. We still went to Paps on Monday night for mmmmazing red beans and rice. I even had an N/A beer made by Guiness to wash down my duck gumbo. And I enjoyed it all.

But dear god I wanted a cigarette. It didn’t help that Nicole and her roomies smoke. But honestly, who doesn’t? Driving around, it seemed like everyone had their windows open to ash their cigarette. I came home from the bars with nicotine-stained skin. And for whatever reason, I wanted it.

I knew better, really. If I lit up one time, I would fall back into the trap of being a smoker. And I spent too damn long being a non-smoker for that to happen.

I worked too hard for this.

Plus I’d head back to Caliornia and be a social pariah. For those of you trying to quit in Louisiana, I salute you.

The addiction I thought I’d kicked years ago reared its ugly head on this trip, which surprised me although now I know it shouldn’t. (See Point 1.) And although I didn’t get out to the music clubs like I wanted to, it wasn’t because I wasn’t drinking.

4. Let go of should. New Orleans stays up past my bedtime. Every show I wanted to see didn’t even start until 11 pm or midnight. Ummm…did I mention I like to be cozied up with a book by 10? I know, I know, it’s my vacation!

Exactly. It’s my vacation. And I didn’t want to spend it forcing myself to stay up late to see music just because I thought I should. Just because in my mind I saw myself going to those shows doesn’t mean it’s going to be a reality when I like to get up and sip coffee and eat pastries at 6:30 a.m. Or drive to Pensacola at 7 a.m.

This.

Or this.

5. Alternate universes exist everywhere. Whenever I go on a trip I set an intention. What do I want to get out of this trip?

When I touched down in NOLA, I  wanted to get my child’s sense of magic back. Sure, I’ve performed a few rituals and worshiped under the full moon, but something about California has made my magic more sterile, less animal.

When I was younger I was more wild, brazen and probably a bit reckless with my magic. Being more responsible has been good; I’ve definitely reaped the benefits. But being in the land of voodoo queens made me very excited. I wanted to see with new eyes.

Everywhere I looked I saw what I would’ve done if I was drinking and I started to see this as an alternate universe. I definitely would’ve smoked, heading back to an old universe I’d left behind, I thought, for good. I didn’t get a child’s sense of magic. I got perspective.

“Now look, with your new vampire eyes.”

Every choice we make propels us further into the universe we’re in or throws us into an alternate one. If you choose the same things over and over, you’ll probably just stick to one or two your whole life. But if you dare to examine your faults, take risks and choose differently, you’ll have so many lives by the time you make it to the end, you’ll be ready for a break.

This was the big one for me and I hope you’ll start looking at the world through Alternate Universe Eyes. Ask yourself, “What would happen if I left work early/brought my own lunch/took the bus/ate that banana I always let rot/(insert some other small change here)?” Close your eyes and imagine the new world you would create. Dream big.

Then decide, is that something you want for yourself? Maybe taking the bus will lead you to meet someone who works nearby your office and always works out during lunch. Do you need a workout buddy? Or bringing your own lunch saves you exactly what that plane ticket to Figi costs. Are you ready for a real vacation?

If so, do it. Do it now. Don’t wait until tomorrow. Do it now. Universes like it when you follow your intuition, your innate sense of urgency. Who knows? That plane ticket might not fall into your life if you wait until next week.

—

What alternate universes do you see for yourself? Are you in the same one or do you bounce between several?

Um, hellooooo? Own personal holiday? Yes, please! And if I’m not doing what grownups are doing, then good! All the grownups I know tell kids not to rush to get older, so why should I?

Is having this complex really so bad?

That being said, I did work on my birthday. Actually, I have been working my ass off this week. The way things worked out with everything in my life, I’m pretty stressed out. And I was totally freaking out about it last night. Like not able to sleep. But then I had a reality check.

I enjoyed acupuncture this week. I’ve been jogging next to the ocean. I sleep next to the man I adore every night of the week. My garden is chock full of broccoli and brussel sprouts. And … I’m going to be headed to New Orleans this coming weekend! I’m so thrilled to be off to the land of voodoo, mystery, cemeteries and mmmmazing food.

I’m a little embarrassed now by my freak out moment. By my anger that I have to work on my BIRTH DAY. Hmph! I don’t wanna! (Cue foot stomping, pouting, four year old.) But my reality check told me something.

I don’t call this growing up. I call it doing the things I love on an accelerated timeline. I’m lucky to love my work, which means even when I’m swamped with deadlines and feeling the stress creep up, it’s cool. I’m on permanent vacation. And even on vacation things can get a little stressful. You can get lost … run out of gas …

… fall down a Grand Canyon.

So if you’re feeling a little rushed, stressed out or overwhelmed right now, remember that you’re on permanent vacation. Really! Because most of us have unbelievably awesome lives. How many rooms are in your house? Is the electricity on whenever you want? I mean seriously. Do you get to go outside and walk? On your two legs that work? Most likely.

And I also realized something even more important (and I can’t believe I ever forgot this), that there are 364 UNbirthdays!

So, a very merry unbirthday to YOU!!!

The funny thing is that I’ve been pining for a little Minnesota lately. No, not the ridiculous winters. No, not snow on my birthday. (It happens.) But for all the amazing things I have in California, there are still plenty of cool things in Minnesota. Didju see this blog post last week? If you know anyone from Minnesota, you probably did.

Over the few years I’ve lived in California, I’ve adapted, but there are a few things I miss about my great state. This post is for all my poor friends trapped in their houses, dreading the next three days of shoveling.

1. The heat. This may sound strange coming from a girl who moved to California from Minnesota, but it rarely gets hot where I live. The mild temperate climate really never dips below 40 F (which is huge) and maybe hits the 90 F mark about four times a year.

What I wouldn’t give for a Minnesota summer day where I can wear a sundress and sandals all day. Where bringing a hoodie along on a day trip is just plain silly. Where even at 2 a.m., it’s still frickin’ sweltering.

Pretty sure this was around 2 a.m. on a June evening.

I can’t remember the last time I wore short sleeves after dark in Santa Cruz. And swimming at night?!? Forget it. Or in my case, forget it all together. Which leads me to my next point.

2. Lakes. Yep. It might sound cliche. Blah blah blah Land of 10,000 Lakes and all. (More like 11,000-plus.) I miss fresh water that‘s deep enough to swim in and that isn’t as cold as Lake Superior. I swam the first month I was here and that was about it.

There are definitely some wonderful rivers around that I enjoy swimming in, but few are deep enough to dive into and the only way you can enjoy swimming is if it’s 100+ F. That’s melted snow you’re swimming in.

One of my last times on a Minnesota lake

Give me some wide open, quiet spaces up in northern Minnesota any day. I’ll take the pontoon out, dive off and swim until I’m weak. Then I’ll chow on whatever grub is in the cooler. Repeat until sundown. Start a campfire to keep mosquitoes away. Bonus points if someone else brings fresh-caught walleye.

Oh man. *Sniff* Nothing beats a day like that. And of course, for those who love fresh fish in the winter, there’s always ice fishing. Go drive your car on the lake!

3.  Live music. Now don’t get me wrong. California is up to its ears in musical talent. There’s a lot of great bands coming in and out of the Bay Area every night. That being said, I’m pretty sure nothing could beat the local live music scene in Minneapolis.

Alex Rossi. Root City. Heatbox. These are a few of my favorite things.

All summer long you can wander around town and see music for free. Any kind really. And if you’re willing to pay $5, the world is open to you any night of the week, any time of the year. I miss hitting up Glueck’s with the girls, celebrating CD releases at the Fine Line and even dodging roofie artists at First Avenue.

Recently I met a woman who had never been to Minnesota but listened to The Current, a local radio station, online. That’s how freakin’ good Minnesota’s music scene is.

4. The home prices. Ever since I could remember, I’ve heard that California was expensive. When I got here, I was shocked to find that it wasn’t. Groceries are reasonable. My rent was the same for a bigger place (granted I had housemates). And I was paid more.

A friend and my theory was that this lie was a way to discourage people from moving here. And I was totally on board with that theory. Until we started looking to buy a house. Sticker. Shock.

Wait. You want how much for this?

I bought a 3-bedroom, 1 bathroom house in Minneapolis for $183k when the housing bubble was at its highest. Y’know what that would’ve cost me here? Probably $600k. Sure, supply and demand, but seriously? That’s just nonsensical to me. Give me Minnesota sensibility any day.

5. Respect for bikers. One would think that in a progressive (read: uber-hippy) place like Santa Cruz, there’d be serious biking love. No so. I hate to dis such an awesome place, especially since it’s taken such good care of me these past few years, but really, Santa Cruz County?  How you gonna do bikers like that?

Minneapolis turned its old railroad tracks into bike paths. You could feasibly commute into the farthest reaches of suburbia. Most ever street has a bike lane. It has a bike share program. No wonder Bicycling named it its No. 1 city for biking.

There are even paths just for bikes.

I miss rolling around all spring, summer and fall (I was not a winter rider. I did not own ski goggles.) on paths that never cross a street. I miss that (most) motorists tend to see you and treat you like a human.

6. Minnesota summers. I know I already said the heat, but this is sort of an all encompassing thing. There is something magical about the months of June, July and August in Minnesota. It stays light until almost 10 p.m. And people live it up all summer.

It’s pretty much standard that people leave work early on Fridays to get a head start on the weekend. If it’s nice outside, some offices just close their doors and let the employees go for the day. Every day seems like vacation.

I put a spell on you …

This is why I had to leave this state in the summer. I knew if I stayed longer, I’d forget how awful the winters. Because Minnesota bewitches you.

Every winter we swear up and down this is the last. We’re leaving. It’s too damn cold. But summer comes and erases our memory. That’s how amazing that season is. And I miss it.

So keep your chin up my Midwestern friends. Remember that while you’re plugging in your car or starting up the snowblower (again) that there are so many wonderful things about where you live that even this girl living in the land of milk and honey can’t get. Minnesota: You’re special. You’ll always have a place in my heart.

—

P.S. I had a few articles post this week on other sites. One is an article on tips for people with food intolerances/allergies. The other is a super fun roundup of accessory trends this spring and the DIY counterparts. Check ‘em out and tell me what you think!

When it comes to cookies, I have no idea why, but the oatmeal chocolate chip ones are always playing second fiddle to oatmeal raisin. The raisins are always in the top rotation of the main cookie companies.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love me an oatmeal raisin cookie, (To be fair, I love pretty much any kind of cookie.) but if given the choice, I’ll go for oatmeal chocolate any day of the week. And these cookies, my friends? They are frickin’ delicious. They’re on my hubby’s Top 5 Desserts list, and they’re pretty close to No. 1.

Note! These cookies are chewy. If you’re a crunchy cookie fan, look elsewhere for a recipe. I’m a chewy cookie kinda gal.

Makes 3 dozen

1 cup Earth Balance (or other fake butter), softened
2/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1/3 cup honey
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3/4 heaping cups brown rice flour (don’t level it off with a knife)
1/4 heaping cup potato starch (same heaping instructions)
2 heaping tablespoons tapioca flour (same heaping instructions)
Scant 1/2 teaspoon xantham gum
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 cups oatmeal
1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips (read the label to make sure they’re GF and dairy free, many are. Here’s one.)

1. Set Earth Balance out to soften a few hours before. If you forget (which I often do), be kind to yourself and soften it on the stove.

2. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F (165 degrees C) and give thanks that you have an oven!

3. Turn on some good music. Combine the rice flour, potato starch, tapioca flour, xantham gum, baking soda and salt in small bowl. Use a wire whisk or sifter to combine completely.

4. In a large bowl, cream together the butter, brown sugar and honey until smooth. Beat in eggs one at a time. Stir in vanilla. Sing to your cookies!

5. Stir flour mix into the creamed mixture until just blended. (Don’t overmix or your cookies will be flat!) Mix in the oats, walnuts and chocolate chips.

6. Drop by heaping spoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheets and bake for 12 minutes in the preheated oven. If attempts to resist eating the dough are futile, prepare for a stomach ache.

7. Allow cookies to cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes and transfer to a cooling rack. Eat at least one for quality control! Store in an airtight container.

Enjoy and let me know if you have suggestions or questions!

—

What’s your favorite kind of cookie? Is it an underdog or a classic, like chocolate chip?

The sun has started shining in between rain showers, which means more rainbows, and flowers are peaking out. My tulips are in bloom and the rose bush I thought I destroyed with my “pruning” is absolutely raging with thorns and buds. I’m stoked for that thing to flower into a mess of roses.

The thing with spring is that it’s all about new beginnings. You clean out your closet, open the windows, wash down the walls (well, maybe only the OCD of us do that) and release all the mustiness and old energy that’s been living in our homes.

April’s Tarot card has been whispering to me for the past few days, and I couldn’t really figure out what it was trying to say. Why would The Lovers want to come up now? Isn’t it traditionally a card for May, I puzzled. (Sidenote: I am going to the Beltane celebration put on by one of the local covens this year. I promise you and myself.)

But really, if there was ever a card that shows the promise of spring, with all it’s new-life-bunny-love blossoming, it’s this card. Of course I want everyone to find love, whether it’s with a significant other or more importantly, with ourselves.

This card speaks of fulfillment and union, of understanding and opening to the masculine and the feminine. We’ve all got both of those in us, and when we can appreciate those parts of us, accepting ourselves as the complex and beautiful soul we are, that is when we find true fulfillment.

This isn’t always about love so much as it is about choice. We need to honor all parts of ourselves, which means it might be time to do some spring cleaning in our lives, whether it’s the people we choose to spend time with or the behaviors we’ve made habits.

It’s easy to continue doing things as we always have. And a lot of those thing used to serve us, but times change and so do we, especially if we want to live brilliant lives. Now is the time to make the tough decisions. Do it for love.

Hell, I’m doing it. Why don’t you? Every day you’re presented with an opportunity to make changes through the choices you make. And the habits you have are just choices you’ve made over and over.

So do some soul searching and realize what choices you’re making without thinking. Find out where you’re on auto-pilot. What requires more of your attention? Get quiet and your soul will tell you. When you turn your light of self-awareness on to those choices, you’ll start blossoming like that rose bush in my front yard.

What choices are you making every day that you’d like to change? It could be as simple as skipping the second cup of coffee or as big as breaking it off with a toxic friend.

—

If you haven’t checked out my latest posts over at Jordana Paige’s blog, you should! There’s a crafty tutorial I did with my 9-year-old nephew that’s sure to impress you

After I divorced, I decided to date whoever I wanted and cared very little for anyone’s feelings. I would warn any man I met how much heartache would come his way if he got attached. So when I broke things off with this guy, I didn’t think it would be any different. But he was the first one who remembered my words.

“You told me you’d break my heart. I should’ve listened.”

It was around then that I noticed I wasn’t the only one who warned people about themselves. I find that most people will tell you their intentions. All you have to do is listen.

My friend and I spent an evening in Spain with a few folks from England and one of the guys kept telling me how he’d like to rape me. Y’know, as a joke. Cause that’s funny to some people. I was pretty clear I didn’t find it humorous but that didn’t stop him from trying to drag me down a dark alleyway. Classy.

Another time a man told me how he’d want me to get breast implants if we got married. Also, I wouldn’t be allowed to have friends. Are people really saying this out loud?

Needless to say I keep better company these days. My husband tells me things like “Get used to being treated well.” My book club can’t wait to meet and discuss my first published novel.

We all need a reminder every now and then.

So many of us don’t really listen to what someone is saying to us. Or in my case, you might think, They don’t really mean that, do they? Yes. They do. And if it doesn’t jibe with you, say so. Or stop spending time with them.

Because as I learned from a heart-broken man, if someone tells you what they plan on doing, you’ve been warned. After that it’s your choice. It might sound cold and calloused, but it’s true.

Who knows? Maybe by leaving a situation because of what someone’s intentions are, you’ll change their life. Maybe that — an unexpected shift in their world — will break the cycle.

I’d like to think that’s what happened with me. I was cold and calloused. And heartbroken too. That last heart I broke made me realize I was hurting mine too: creating a cycle of unhappy and unsatisfying encounters.

And once I decided I wasn’t going to break Sante’s heart, that I was going to treat it like a precious object, suddenly love opened up in front of me. My intentions shifted and so did those around me.

So listen. Other people’s intentions reflect your own.

Does this resonate with you? Have you heard other people speak their intentions? Do you speak yours?

—

If you haven’t had a chance to read my latest article, How to Overcome Perfectionism, over at Think Simple Now, check it out. I’m super-proud of this one!

About six months ago my book club decided we should read Lost Memory of Skin. Now I’m a huge fan of most books. I love fiction, non-fiction is growing on me, sci-fi is awesome. But when this one came up in discussion, I got uncomfortable.

For those of you that haven’t read it or heard about it, here is the description from Bookshop Santa Cruz.

After doing time for a liaison with an underage girl, the Kid is forbidden to live within 2,500 feet of anywhere children might gather. With nowhere else to go, the Kid takes up residence under a south Florida causeway. Barely beyond childhood himself, the Kid is in many ways an innocent, trapped by impulses and foolish choices he struggles to comprehend. Enter the Professor, a man who has built his own life on secrets and lies, and who finds in the Kid the perfect subject for his research on homelessness and sex offenders. But when the Professor’s past resurfaces, the balance in the two men’s relationship shifts. Suddenly, the Kid must reconsider everything he has come to believe.

The whole sex-offender thing turned me off. And not just because people that commit those type of crimes really disgusted me. No, there was more. You see, there is plenty of sexual abuse in my history.

I was sexually abused when I was young by someone I was close to. I was sexually abused in an adult relationship after high school. I was sexually assaulted just a few years ago. (I wrote a little about it.) So you can imagine why reading this book might be a little tough for me.

I’m not the only one. In the U.S., about one in six children have been sexually abused. I’ve even heard estimates as high as one in four.

Since reading the book, and watching a little Louis CK, my mind has changed about sex offenders. I no longer hate them. They no longer disgust me. I find their behavior terrible, yes, but I’ve started to feel some sort of compassion for these folks.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve got some painful memories because of what I went through and I don’t wish it upon anyone. I think children are precious and their innocence and vulnerability should be protected vigilantly. But when your house is on fire and you’ve gotten all your beloved items out of it, do you just let it burn?

Many people who abuse were abused themselves. Mental health problems are stigmatized in our society, and often people self-medicate, causing them to make poor choices. Sex crimes are about holding power over someone, not so much about the act itself.

Society has an obligation to help these folks, and in doing so will help countless children and victims of sexual violence. What isn’t working is the no-tolerance hatred that everyone, from the far left to far right, is spewing out. It’s isolating and soul-crushing.

So the next time you see an article about a man selling his child into kiddie porn, feel disgust at the act. Feel anger. Feel rage. But also try to hold kindness in your heart, and pray that he can get help.

Because pushing all the sex offenders under the freeway isn’t going to solve the problem. Denying them what every human needs to survive isn’t the answer. Society’s house is on fire and compassion is the only thing that’ll put it out.

It’s pretty, yes. But six months of this stuff? Oooover it!

That’s how I’m feeling right now when it comes to food too. I desperately want light summer fare, but the weather is too cold yet. (Yes I’ve gone soft. I’m OK with this. California cold is still cold!) It’s comfort-food season. So what’s a cook to do?

Make my insane gluten-free, dairy-free chicken enchiladas, that’s what! I’ve always said I could eat Mexican food every day — thank goodness I moved to the land of the taqueria! This is the first recipe I think I ever made up and it’s evolved as my food allergies have.

These have passed the test of those blessed to not have a food allergy. I serve them on the regular when we have company. The pico de gallo says summer, but the dish itself is filling and warm.

Rebecca’s Insane Enchiladas

Time: 1.5 hours
(This can be reduced if you boil the rice earlier or omit the rice all together.)
Serves: 6

PICO DE GALLO

1 c green cabbage, chopped
1 small white onion, chopped
Big handful or cilantro, chopped
Clove garlic minced
3 tomatoes chopped
1/2-1 jalapeno (depending on spice desired) chopped
Juice of 1/2 lime

ENCHILADA MIX

1 cup cooked brown rice
1 lb. boneless chicken thighs (or breast if preferred)
1 carrot, shredded
1 medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2-1 jalapeno
Other veggies as desired (I use whatever I need to get rid of chopped up very small. Last night I used broccoli and cauliflower.)
1 can enchilada sauce
1 cup shredded “cheese” – I use Daiya tapioca shreds…melts awesome!
½ cup cashew cheese sauce

10 corn tortillas
1 can black beans
1-2 avocados
Tortilla chips

Cook rice, or just skip it if you’re pressed for time.  Mix together all the pico de gallo ingredients and put in fridge for flavors to settle together. Again, if you’re looking to make these fast, you can always buy some salsa, but remember it was made out of obligation, so it will never taste as good as making your own!

Fill medium pot with water and set to boil. Once boiling, place chicken in and boil for 10 minutes. Chop your veggies and put them in a big mixing bowl. Don’t forget to serenade your food! Sing a song or turn on some music.

After the chicken is cooked, chop into tiny pieces. Mix together with carrot, onion, garlic, jalapeno and other veggies. Add enough rice to make the enchilada filling equal about 5 cups. (Rice is just the filler. You can serve it as a side with black beans too.) Stir in 1/2 cup shredded cheese and cashew cheese. Pour in 1/2 the can of enchilada sauce and give a final stir. Shake your hips a little while you stir.

Preheat your oven to 350 and warm tortillas up over the stove or in the oven for a minute so they bend but don’t break.

Warning: Time to get your hands dirty! Dip them in the enchilada sauce. In an 8×13 pan, put a handful (about 1/2 c) of enchilada mix into each tortilla, rolling them up and setting them in two rows of five. Pour the rest of enchilada sauce over the tortillas. Spread the shredded cheese over top. Bake at 350 for 25-30 minutes. Blow them a kiss through your oven window.

If you have extra enchilada mix, heat it up to melt cheese and serve it with the chips as an appetizer. Quick and easy! Let the enchiladas sit for five minutes and serve with rice, black beans, pico and avocado.

These make great leftovers if you just make them for yourself. I used to freeze them in packets of four so I could eat some for dinner and some for lunch. Now that I feed Sante, we can go through these in a few days so I don’t bother.

What’s your favorite comfort food? Do you make it year ’round or just when it’s cold?