{gluten-free} Whole Grain Chocolate Chip Cookies

Sierra’s learned how to say ‘cookie’ – and knows what the word means – so all I can think is: I’m in for it now. Still, as her current favorite thing seems to be bananas (‘nana!’) and she had lentils and cauliflower for dinner tonight, I think she can indulge in a nibble or two of the occasional sweet treat. Especially when the temperature here in the Kingdom is pushing 100 degrees F in March; we could all use a little reward for getting through the day. In other non-news, I’ve been oddly craving pancakes for dinner the past few days but have ‘settled’ for quinoa with beets and greens and tahini sauce with a chaser of a plate of flourless chocolate chip cookies. Pancakes tomorrow maybe.

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Checking In (+ Yellow Butter Cake)

[On the Wadi Trail, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, March 2015.]

We moved into our new house last weekend and I’ve already baked a lemon yogurt cake, made lots of fruit compotes for a certain someone, did the requisite pot of quinoa and roasted a chicken … So, not much has changed kitchen-wise other than my current abode’s offering is much tinier and darker than my last lovely tiled and light-filled space and I’m a bit thin in the wares department. Still, we’ve transitioned OK-ish and I remain grateful we came over to Riyadh from Casablanca rather than going back to the States first. Flying long distances plus time differences when you have a little one adds the sort of dimension to travel that almost makes you want to stay home (only almost) or at least slate a long stretch of time to stay when you get there. That’s to say, pretty much, that I am looking forward to a nice summer of California time because a) there’s no way we are staying in the desert when temperatures can reach upwards of 120 degrees F and b) have I mentioned how … interesting … long haul flights are with an 18-month-old?

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Moving On — Again (+ Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies)

[Morning cup, Casablanca, Morocco, 2015.]

About two years ago around this time I was in the home stretch of writing my book and had a little tumbler in my belly reminding me of her presence with every turn and flick of her very tiny toes. We were moving to North Africa in a few short months and when I had time to think about it I was filled with a nervous mix of trepidation and excitement. Flash forward to today, when we woke up earlier than usual, dined on granola and yogurt and banana chunks, and went out to stroll the neighborhood, me with my much-needed coffee in hand. My little tumbler is now a sturdy walker who gets her hands dirty at every opportunity (much to the chagrin of the neighbors/maids/nannies but I’m not anti-grit by any means) and says a cheerful ‘hi’ to all who cross her path. Our time in North Africa is rapidly coming to a close, just in time for me to actually accept that woah, we’re living in Africa. I never would have anticipated that occurrence a decade ago.

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