Gluten-Free Baked Stuffed Shells

Italian Dreams

There isn't a speck of Italian blood in me. Allegedly. No blood lines (even faint ones) to trace back to Italy's flavor and culture rich boot. I claim no Italian grandmother with deft, gnarled hands who could roll out ravioli dough in her sleep. No puttering, gardening grandfather who offered me my first taste of a sun warmed tomato straight off the string-tied vine. We didn't have lasagna on our Thanksgiving table. Or baked ziti. My mother never mixed me an almond infused Italian soda after a rough day at school.

So why is Italian food- forever, for me- the ultimate comfort food? Hungry, angry, lonely, tired- what do I crave? (Besides a bottle of wine? Darling those days are gone.)

Spaghetti slick with garlicky olive oil. Bubbling hot lasagna. Fresh baked focaccia. Bruschetta. Risotto. Baked stuffed shells.

All heaven.

The tough part is- living gluten-free AND dairy-free can seriously crush your Italian gilded comfort food dreams.

Back in the day, there were no gluten-free lasagna noodles or stuff-able GF pasta shells (not in my neck of the woods, anyway). Though times have changed, pasta-wise- thank goddess. Most supermarkets now carry gluten-free pasta in all shapes and sizes. And if you cook it just right (in salted water, till al dente) and immediately drizzle it with extra virgin olive oil- most of it tastes mighty good. And if you are among the agriculturally evolved among us who can digest milk, your cheesy world still glitters with buttery glory (cream, butter, and cheese go a long way to improving the flavor of gluten-free recipes, let's be honest). But.

If- like yours truly- you have to live without the salty flavor punch of Parmesan or creamy tang of fresh goat cheese, comfort food can turn into one big, ho-hum yawn. Vegan cheese is no substitute (yes, I've tried them all). Unless your concept of cheese involves an aerosol can, plastic-shiny slices in peel-away shrink-wrap or orange powder you added to hot milk (no offense to corporate giant produced fake foods, or anything). In that case, processed oil with pea protein vegan cheese might remind you of something seemingly related to the cheese family.

I can't get past the funky sock odor and poly-vinyl texture.

Maybe because I was lucky. I had two years of Home Economics class. I cooked my own whole milk white cheddar sauce for baked macaroni and cheese (the first thing I learned to cook, at 13, stirring a white roux with flour and unsalted butter). Post honeymoon I shaved velvet slivers of golden Parmesan from precious wedges of Italian Reggiano, thanks to two weeks in Italy. And I spoon-stuffed pasta shells with a classic blend of ricotta and shredded mozzarella thanks to an armful of hippie-vegetarian cookbooks.

So, yes, there are days I miss dairy food. Especially in winter.

And thus, began experimenting, inventing ways to make up for the loss of genuine cheesy goodness. The first part was easy. I turned to organic soft tofu for a ricotta substitute (my mainstay for years as a vegetarian goddess). I may as well admit I not only tolerate tofu, I love tofu. And lucky for me, this fermented bean curd stuff loves me, too (I know this is not the case for everyone- and for those of you with a milk allergy AND soy allergy, I truly feel your pain).

For the topping I use a blend of Italian seasoned bread crumbs (I use Udi's gluten-free white sandwich bread processed into crumbs with extra virgin olive oil, garlic, and herbs) and almond meal (almond meal has a soft, powdery mouth feel faintly reminiscent of grated cheese) with sea salt for a salty-cheesier taste.

The latest version (created back in West Hollywood) was a winner- and we've been making it ever since. The family loves it. Even the gluten-eaters.

All I know is there is never a scrap left over.

Which as any cook knows, speaks volumes


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