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I would not have believed this, but this is fast and easy, my friends. I’m actually taking a break from eating to put up this post, because I don’t want to risk losing this recipe I’ve made three times now. This is for ham and pineapple, but sub your own toppings (though you’re crazy if you do, ham and pineapple is the best). The crust is both crisp and chewy, and tastes better than any normal crust I’ve ever had (besides Zachary’s deep dish, because that’s god on a plate). Recipe adapted from this one.

Preheat oven to 350.

In small bowl, mix 3/4 warm water and 1 tbsp yeast. 2 min later, add 1 tbsp sugar. Let sit five minutes.

In large bowl:

1 cup white rice flour (sweet okay)

1 cup brown rice flour

1 cup tapioca flour

3/4 tsp xantham gum

2 tbsp sugar

1/2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

Whisk together. Then, make a well in the middle. In that well,  pour the yeast mixture, 1 tbsp olive oil, and approx 1 c. warm water. Then mix. Add more water if necessary.

On parchment placed on a cookie sheet, flatten the dough to 1/4-1/2 inch thickness (I use a plastic glove oiled with olive oil to make it easy). Parbake 30 min @350.

While it parbakes, throw this into food processor:

3 or 4 small tomatoes (fresh, if you have them!)

3 cloves garlic

3 or 4 leaves basil

sprinkle of salt

good drizzle olive oil

Run food processor till it’s chunky but not liquid. Add good amount of grated parmesan to thicken.

When parbake is done (it’s okay if the dough cracks, that’s normal), pull it out and top with the tomato sauce, ham, chopped mozzarella, and one small can of chopped, drained pineapple. Add red chili flakes to taste.

Bake another 30 minutes.

AMAZING. Enjoy, my friends. Now I have to get back to eating.

Y’all, this is a pheNOMenal prize.

Five signed books by the NYT Bestselling author, Juliet Blackwell PLUS a brand-new Kindle Fire HD6 and cover. 

Juliet is one of my people, and I love her truly, madly, and very deeply. I couldn’t do this job without her. The really nice thing is that I also love her books (related? Possibly).  Her newest is A Toxic Trousseau, and it came out yesterday on my birthday, and it’s SO fun. Haunted vintage clothing and a kickass heroine from San Francisco, who could ask for more? You have to work to enter this one but that’s good! Fewer entries = a better chance for you to win!

Get one chance for doing each of these quick, free things: 

1. Add Juliet’s latest A Toxic Trousseau to your GoodReads Want to Read list. 
2. Follow Juliet on Amazon.
3. Follow me on Amazon.
4. Follow me on Facebook.
5. Follow Juliet on Facebook.
6. Join my mailing list.
7. Join Juliet’s mailing list.

(If you’ve already done any of these things in the past, that counts, just let me know.)

Leave to a comment on this post to let me know how many slips of paper with your name on them should go into my virtual hat. (How will I know if you’re telling the truth? I won’t! I’m not the truth police, thank god, because that would be a full-time and incredibly dull job, don’t you think? I’ll just check to make sure the winner has done what she said she did.)

DRAWING DATE: Tuesday, July 12, 9am PST. 

Bonus round: Check out my birthday gift below, and get an extra entry for telling me your favorite office product/organizational tool you couldn’t live without.

UPDATE: Kristine W is the winner and has been emailed – THANKS, y’all, for playing!! xo

I’ve figured out over the years there are two kinds of people: those who like reality TV and those who mock reality TV but watch it in private. Seems that almost everyone has a niche that they like to watch. Some enjoy Hoarders (I like to watch once a year or so and then I clean out closets like a possessed person). Others enjoy the home improvement shows or the PBS Life In the Prairie/VictorianMansion/EdwardianRowHouse shows. Still others get into the love-based reality shows (and I’ll confess here I’m an inveterate Bachelor-watcher. I adore watching all the women get so excited about the possibility of falling in love. I’m less excited about TheBachelorette because I can go down to the financial district in San Francisco if I want to watch that many young men posturing for attention).

There’s a secret about reality TV that no one talks about, though.

Those shows can be good for the heart.

Just like romance novels.

They’re not guilty pleasures—they’re just pleasures. And there’s nothing wrong with those, and don’t let anyone tell you there is.

Six seasons of America’s Next Top Model got me through my mother’s death. At the end of long, anxious, miserable days, I opened my computer, put in my earbuds, and disappeared into the world in which Tyra Banks played a gorgeous house mother to women who were trying to live their dream (even though I just wanted to feed each one of those women three or four slices of cheesecake).

When I didn’t know how to help a friend when she was very low, I attempted to hook her on Project Runway. Another dear friend is currently going through a dark vale, and she’s been watching The Great British Bake Off.

We all need escape sometimes from a life that while often very, very good, can be very, very hard. That escape doesn’t have to be mindless. It can be mindful.

Think about it—escaping for a little while is just taking care of someone else you care about: Yourself.

I was recently in a hospital room with a loved one. We watched The Property Brothers to escape the terrible pings and beeps that go along with a stay like that.

I mocked the brothers terribly. Look at his hair! Is every show this scripted? Why do they constantly knock out load-bearing walls?

But it passed the time. We laughed. We were interested in something that didn’t really matter, but something that lightened the heart.

And I realized that I’d love to write a reality show series.

So here’s the first in the Ballard Brothers series. It’sThe Property Brothers meets the Bachelor, set on the California coast in the town of Darling Bay. I fell in love with Liam while writing him, and so did Felicia, the network executive who ends up accidentally starring in her own show (oops!).

Buy it today here:

Amazon | iBooks | Nook | GooglePlay

And now, after a lot of hard work and a couple of difficult weeks, I’m going to engage in my own form of escape. I’m going to watch the second season ofUnReal, which is a behind-the-scenes drama abouta reality show much like the Bachelor. It was just profiled in the New Yorker (yep, I totally just said that for the snobbish lit cred I’m still sometimes guilty of desiring).

I hope you love On the Market. Let me know what you think.

xo and escapism of many forms,

Rachael

You guys, this is so good, and lately I’ve been eating this EVERY DAY. If you make it the night before a busy day, it’s good cold from the fridge (Lala thinks that’s gross but I LIKE it that way). If you make it in the morning, it’s good warm. It’s really sweet but has no sugar except that from the fruit. And it’s FAST (although I let it sit a while, so I make it first, have a cup of coffee, and then eat).

Start a cup of water to boil in your microwave or electric tea kettle (faster). In a cereal bowl, mash up half the overripe banana you’ve been thinking about making into banana bread but in reality probably never will. Then bang into the bowl: a bunch of cinnamon (I give the bottle four or five good whacks – I like a LOT of cinnamon), a scant sprinkle of cayenne (scant! but trust me on this), 2 tbsp chia seeds (I eyeball this, it’s a good amount), and a half cup of oatmeal (what kind? I’ve used everything except steel-cut, from quick to not-quick, from thick to thin). Then dump in 1/2 – 1 cup of boiling water and stir it all up. (Thinner, quicker oats will require the full cup of water, thicker oats less — play around with this part.) Let it sit for ten minutes or so (or put it in the fridge overnight) to let the chia seed and oatmeal absorb the water. Top with seasonal fruit of choice! Currently, we’re in the strawberry boom, which is really good, but I also love blueberries (I keep a big bag of frozen ones for when I’m out of fresh fruit).

THIS IS SO GOOD. Let me know if you make it!

Miss Idaho was one of the first two dogs I ever loved as an adult. She and her sidekick Harriet taught me what a dog’s love really was: true and unconditional and unwavering and REALLY excited to be those things.

Lala never meant to own a six pound dog. (Who does, though?) Miss Idaho was abandoned in a yard, covered with mange and had no hair left, just scabbed skin over half of her body. Lala wasn’t rich and it took money to get that little girl healthy. Miss Idaho was worth it.

She was small enough to sit in Lala’s hand.

Miss Idaho is very old, so she gets treats. #missidaho

A video posted by Rachael Herron (@rachaelherron) on May 2, 2016 at 10:00pm PDT

Now, every unexpected chihuahua needs a sweater, especially one who goes back and forth to Idaho.

So Lala learned how to knit in order to make those sweaters for Miss Idaho, traveling dog of awesomness.

And because she learned to knit, Lala and I met. I fell in love with her dogs as well as with her.

So really, it’s all Miss Idaho’s sweater-wearing fault that I’m broken-hearted today.

Miss Idaho never knew she was small. I know that’s a small-dog cliche, but it was true. Once someone asked me at a dog park why I didn’t take her into the small-dog park, and I was stunned. It had never occurred to me to do so.

She always had her tongue out, asleep or awake. The tongue got longer and longer as she got older and older (tongues lose muscle tone, too).

Rarely shaky or barky in the traditional chihuahua way, she was the Alerter of the family, but only when we needed to be Alerted. She heard Lala coming home when she was still fifteen miles away. She liked to pee on anything soft on the floor, be it towel or rug or carpet. We couldn’t put down rugs, a shame in a house that mostly has tile and wood floors. We always joked we’d go straight to Ikea and buy a rug when she died (this happened early this morning. We’ve already been to Ikea, no lie).

She burrowed under covers when it was cold — I always knew it was time to switch to the winter blanket the first night she crawled under it with us. She slept with us every night, the only animal in this menagerie-house to do so. When she was younger and we were going on a walk, she would jump up and bite us on the butt.

All Miss Idahos wear cowboy hats, you know.

Miss Idaho was sick (congestive heart failure and a heart that was—quite literally—too big for her small body). Her breathing was getting worse and we’d just called the vet yesterday to see if we could increase her meds (the answer was yes, and we did). This morning her breathing got worse. We were on our way out of the house on the way to the vet when it became apparent she wouldn’t be around much longer, so we sat on the couch with her until the end.

Lala, the one who saved her, the one Miss Idaho loved best in all the world, held her as she took her last breaths.

Please don’t say everything happens for a reason. It doesn’t. We have proof that shit just happens. You don’t get over a loss — you just live with it, instead.

With Mom, Harriet, and a photobombing Clara. 

But I found a dog on Sunday, a small, very young ten-pound Maltese mix. I’d dropped my wallet on the way out of the house and had to go back for it. (I have never dropped my wallet once. In my life. Anywhere.) When I got to the house, Theodosia was running past our gate. We’ve posted her info everywhere we can, and no one is calling.

Lala said that maybe Miss Idaho knew we’d need a tiny dog.

And so it begins. Easing in by going lilac up top, purple at the bottom.