“I’ll go gluten-free on Monday…”

This is the final installment in my little sister Althea’s series of guest posts about being diagnosed with celiac disease. If you haven’t already, read the first and second posts.

If your doctor told you you had one month to live, what would you do?

This is, more or less, the question I asked myself every morning in June and July. Well, if we’re being precise, the question was a bit clumsier, something like: If your doctor told you you were “allergic to the gluten” (yep, that’s a quote), and you gave yourself a completely arbitrary period of time to continue eating gluten, what would you eat?

There were, as usual, many things that I wanted to eat. Thus was born my gluten bucket list.

This is one bucket I really want to kick. Photo © paulshen | Flickr

This is one bucket I really want to kick.
Photo © paulshen | Flickr

Learning that gluten is poison to your body probably made a lot of you go GF immediately. But my logic was, I had been poisoning myself for—who knows how long?—so giving or taking a month or two couldn’t make much difference to my gut. With this in mind, I decided to delay my gluten-freedom just a teeny bit.

[Disclaimer: I’m not arguing that this was the smartest decision I could have made. Cutting out gluten ASAP was obviously the healthy choice. But I knew I’d be making a lot of really healthy, really annoying choices in the future, so I was in no hurry to start.]

The idea behind this bucket list, just like with a regular old bucket list, was that I could go gluten-free, regret-free. It was meant to take me on a culinary journey, down memory lane to junk I hadn’t eaten in years (am I the only person who actually likes Zebra Cakes?), into the great beyond to treats I had never heard of, and, of course, into the pizza parlors and bagel shops of my brand new hometown.

Composing the list was surprisingly difficult. It’s like when you’re playing Scattergories and your brain is suddenly emptied of everything but pseudowords beginning with “N.” The celiac blogosphere is hardly helpful to the googler trying to increase her gluten intake. For example, Jane Anderson has this great list of gluten-free candy, but I couldn’t find a list of candy that does contain gluten, so I had nothing to work from. I almost forgot Twix!

My other major roadblock was that I got diagnosed just days before moving in with Molly, so all the meals I ate at home were GF. As for eating out, I often thought, Is that really worth the money/trans fat/effort? I’m sure I could make a gluten-free version of that, or there must be something else I could eat that would be more worthy.

My most memorable gluten extravaganza was at a Yankees game, where a couple friends helped me check off something that wasn’t on my list but should have been: fried dough, fried Oreos, and fried chocolate, all in one sitting (hey, we split them between the three of us, so on average, we only ate one fried delicacy each).

Fried chocolate is heavenly. If you’re a gluten-eater, get your hands (and your face) on some of this magic.

Fried chocolate (top right; front and center are the Oreos) is heavenly. If you’re a gluten-eater, get your hands (and your face) on some of this magic.

But in the end, I didn’t complete my bucket list. I never even got a Cronut (has anyone tried a gluten-free one?). Rather than the systematic search-and-devour mission I had imagined, my quest panned out more like a series of impulse deli purchases and accidental Wheat Thin binges.

Now it’s over, and I’ve been gluten-free for almost a month. I actually feel a bit relieved from the phony pressure I put on myself to eat a bunch of junk I didn’t even always want. There’s no shortage of GF junk food, after all. I hate to end on a dreary note, but the whole thing made me realize that it’s not the gluten I’ll miss, but the flexibility to buy snacks on the go or enjoy food with friends in any locale.

Well, dear readers, this is the end of my final guest post, but my very own sprue story is—unfortunately—just beginning. My current food quests? Perfect my homemade Grape Nuts imitation, and taste-test every gluten-free beer on the market. Wish me luck!

What did you all eat just before going gluten-free? What did I miss? (So much for regret-free.) Do you hate me for making you look at fried Oreos? (Sorry! I know it hurts.)

I’m a gluten-free American Girl, in a nut-allergic Barbie world

When I was a kid, I had an American Girl doll. Samantha, to be precise. (No Molly doll for this Molly.) I loved Samantha dearly.

My parents made clear that I was also to love her carefully: this doll would be the most expensive thing in my personal possession for a very long time, and there would be no trips to the “doll hospital.”

Because of the dolls’ exorbitant price point, my sister (who did, by a twist of fate, have the Molly doll) and I weren’t really supposed to play with them, per se, more like take them out occasionally to gaze upon. And we certainly didn’t have a closet full of accessories.

However, there is in fact a whole world of American Girl extras to discover—a customizable wardrobe to rival that of Barbie. For example, did you know that there’s an allergy-free lunch accessory? It’s true!

The set includes a customizable food allergy bracelet, an EpiPen, and a healthful lunch. It’s adorable and inclusive—a great idea, though pardon me while I make fun of a few things:

Photo © American Girl

Photo © American Girl

1. What is a “sandwich skewer,” and why was that their best idea for a food-allergy-free lunch? Those brown bits look like bread to me, and though it could be wheat-free, it’s unclear. If the lunch was going to include bread anyway, why not a sandwich? If I were a kid already self-conscious about food allergies, the last thing I’d want is a conspicuously different lunch.

2. Why the cloth lunch bag? I suppose it’s safe for those with latex allergies, but a bento box would be, too—not to mention way more stylish.

3. Where’s the dessert? Don’t even pretend to count the “berry smoothie.”

Photo © American Girl

Photo © American Girl

4. In general, it pales in comparison with the “normal” lunch, which boasts a brownie, more fruit than vegetables, a cute “stackable” design, a purple spork, a sandwich cut into the shape of a daisy, and a FOLD-OUT PLACEMAT. Moms and dads, take note. That’s how you say “I love you” with a lunch.

5. The price is crazy (though at least it costs the same as the regular lunch—unrealistically, since safe foods tend to be more expensive, and let’s not get started on the EpiPen, which in real life go for over $200 a two-pack). At $28 per lunch, I would probably tell my future little American girl to just use her imagination.

Then again, that feeling of being a Normal American Girl? Priceless.

Like I said, this idea is adorable and inclusive. However, I would like to state for the record that it’s not really inclusive of the little gluten-free American girls running around out there, most of whom will never lay hands on an EpiPen (and should consider themselves fortunate for it).

I propose that the next $28 add-on be a gluten-free kit, including:

  • packets of wheat-free soy sauce
  • a shrink-wrapped gluten-free cookie with a big honking CERTIFIED symbol on the front
  • a pair of reading glasses, prematurely acquired from squinting at food labels
  • a toaster bag and tongs for tiny gluten-free bread slices
  • & some GlutenTox gluten test kits for those “safe” classroom snacks.

Now doesn’t that sound nice?

What else would you add? How you feel about the idea of food-allergy/gluten-free dolls? Would you buy this toy for a child? What are other ways to help kids understand food restrictions?

By the way, while there is no food-allergy Barbie—that I know of—I did come across an older post on the now-inactive blog No Peanuts Please about a “homemade” peanut- and egg-allergic Barbie. Worth a read, whether you hate Barbie or love her.

Peanut-allergic Barbie is not a vegetarian. Photo © Bugeater | Flickr

Food-allergy Barbie is not a vegetarian.
Photo © Bugeater | Flickr

Of course, what I really loved, more than any accessory and perhaps even more than my doll, were the books…so next week, I plan to post my spin on a celiac American Girl series. In the meantime, I’m taking name suggestions in the comments.

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Gluten-Free Astrology: Virgo (Born August 23 – September 22)

Hey, Gluten-Free Virgo, wait up! Don’t click…darn. Lost another one. Logical Virgo is the sign least likely to brook the vague suppositions on which astrology is founded, so I’m sure they’ve mostly fled.

Nevertheless, for those in the Virgo ranks whose anxious nature keeps them from completely dismissing even something so silly as a horoscope, or who are working on broadening their rational worldview, or who are simply too kind to abandon me now, I’ll carry on. After all, this stuff is important. Get ready, because my spot-on analysis is about to blow your left-brained mind.

Fun fact: your sign is the Virgin, but she stands more for purity of purpose than for any other kind of purity that might occur to you—though most of you are probably still a bit too reserved to go prancing about naked like this statue. Photo © Tom Magliery | Flickr

Fun fact: your sign is the Virgin, but she stands more for purity of purpose than for any other kind of purity that might occur to you—though most of you are probably still a bit too reserved to go prancing about naked like this statue.
Photo © Tom Magliery | Flickr

The GF Virgo is an organized creature. When you hit the road or the skies, there’s no throwing a half-stale bag of Popchips and a Larabar into the suitcase at the last minute for you; you travel prepared with an assortment of food optimized to fill all your calorie and nutrient needs for precisely the amount of time you’ll be away—plus backups in your carry-on and a bento box for the flight. And no, you didn’t accidentally pack anything liquid.

When you were first diagnosed with celiac or gluten intolerance, you wasted no time in clearing out the pantry, wiping down every surface, and perhaps even lining your drawers and resealing the dining room table.

Because of your budget savviness, you’d probably amassed quite an impressive pantry, so throwing out all of those opened packages of flour and pasta and even not-glutenous but possibly contaminated containers of sugar and baking soda may have hurt a little—but just a little. Your mottos are “order above all else”; “a clean home is a happy home”; “idle hands are the devil’s playthings”; and all that Protestant ethic jazz. Some may therefore consider you rather cold or callous, or at the very least a stickler.

And, well, the stickler part is probably true. No trying “just a taste” or figuring “this should be safe” for you. Every package gets checked, every question gets asked, every manufacturer gets directly called. And, as a result, many fewer glutenings get got. You go, GF Virgo.

The cold and callous part, though? No, that’s not you. You care intensely about doing the right thing, and that includes doing right by others. You’re dedicated to your family, friends, and community—so though you may not be as nurturing as a Cancer or as buoyant as a Leo, in your own way you’re just as warm as your fellow summertime signs.

Photo © Rromir Imami | Flickr

Your symbol, the Virgin, is often pictured holding a sheaf of wheat. In the GF Virgo’s case, she’s probably carrying it somewhere far away from her own kitchen to gift to someone who will be able to use it. Because that’s just the kind of person she is. (She will then scrub her hands for five minutes afterwards. Because that’s also the kind of person she is.)
Photo © Rromir Imami | Flickr

This month, you might put your conscientiousness to work on behalf of your fellow GFers by helping a local restaurant to iron out the kinks in its gluten-free service. Using your eagle eye for flaws, teach that sandwich bar attendee to keep the breaded chicken farther away from the cucumber, or point out (gently) that soup isn’t gluten-free if it’s served in a bread bowl. Or take advantage of back-to-school season to do a little educating of your own—many public and private schools have a thing or two to learn about gluten and allergies. Beware, however, of your tendency to overcomplicate. Not every change must be implemented by a planning committee.

Oh, and while I’m criticizing you, I should remind you that you yourself have a tendency to be overcritical, not only of others but of yourself. Virgo rules over the nervous system and the intestines, so the GF Virgo is at the heart of a perfect storm when it comes to gluten-induced anxiety. You’re also quite health-focused, and therefore prone to hypochondria. This month, try to take it easy on yourself; give yourself the same care you give others, but avoid obsessing over the details of your day-to-day wellness. Getting out of your own head (and your extraordinarily tidy house) just might be the best thing for it.

GF Virgos tend to be shy, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a few famous ones running around. (Pardon me, they are in fact very rarely found “running around” as opposed to “proceeding in a calm and efficient manner toward their goal.”) Here are a couple:

Confucius

Confucius

Confucius, born September 28th, 551 BC, might seem to have a birthday outside of the Virgo date range. However, my ultimate guide to astrology and several less trusty but ultimately convincing websites tell me he was a Virgo, so I’m just going to assume it has something to do with planetary motion and thousands of years having passed and all that. But was he a GF Virgo? Judge for yourself: I hear Confucius said, “I do not eat if I do not get the proper soy sauce.” Sounds like a celiac saying to me.

Mother Theresa

Mother Theresa

Mother Theresa, born August 26th, 1910, would not be very happy to hear herself associated with this blasphemy, but she was without a doubt a Virgo through and through. It takes some serious belief in rules, order, and a sense of what’s right to become a nun in the first place, not to mention do the additional work to which she dedicated her life. But GF? Well, I don’t mean to say that Mother Theresa was a fad dieter, but she did briefly flirt with eating nothing but rice and salt, in imitation of the diet of the poor. She was talked out of it eventually, but at least for a time, turns out, she was by default a GF Virgo.

Anyone else you can think of? I can’t help but imagine that all of those celiac experts must fall under this sign (Peter Green? Stefano Guandalini? Alessio Fasano? Total Virgos). However, I don’t know their birthdays, and neither does Google, it seems, so you’ll have to take my word for it—though if you’re a GF Virgo, you totally won’t.

As always, the “information,” such as it is, in this post has been largely ripped off from The Only Astrology Book You’ll Ever Need, by Joanna Martine Woolfolk, which is in fact the only astrology book you’ll ever need (need here being a relative term).

See also: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo

My dear GF Virgo friends, I am ready for you to tear into me for propagating such unremitting nonsense. (But…come on…didn’t I get it just a little right? Let me know if so!)

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A hit list and a wish list: who deserves celiac disease?

People I wish had celiac disease:

  • Hitler: Obviously.
  • Stalin: Also obvious.
  • Saddam Hussein: You get the point.
  • J.K. Rowling*: Because she’d write an instantly best-selling inspirational children’s book series about overcoming celiac disease through the magic of love and friendship. And she’d totally want me for a coauthor.
  • Ancient Buddhist monks*: Because then they would not have invented seitan, and I would not have to feel sad I can’t eat it.
  • Cookie monster with fruitUS Farm Bill writers*: Because they would stop subsidizing wheat. (And produce more…corn? Hang on a second.)
  • The Cookie Monster: Because it’d be great for awareness.
  • Lady Gaga*: Because she flirts with G-free already, and any way I can be more like Lady Gaga sounds good to me.

People I’m glad don’t have celiac disease:

  • My mom: Because recipe reformulation or not, I’d hate to see her lose her Twizzlers.
  • My brother: Because I’m not sure what he’d do without pizzapastasandwiches.
  • The rest of my family: Well, assuming it’s true, that is. GET TESTED.
  • Most children: Everyone should have at least 20 years of animal-cracker-gumming, Triscuit-crunching, beer-chugging bliss (sorry, I meant 21 years). If they get it later…well…we all have our cross to bear.*
  • BooksBooks_How_To_Cook_Everything-S&SMark Bittman: Because socca seems even cooler when its chief proponent isn’t forced to eat chickpea flour. And because there’s just not as much of a ring to How to Cook Everything Except Wheat, Rye, Barley, and Anything That Might Have Ever Touched One of Those Things.
  • 132 out of 133 people: Good for them.

People I wish did not have celiac disease:

  • Me: Because it sucks.
  • My sister: Because she misses beer, and I feel responsible.
  • You: Because you’re awesome, and it’s not. I hope you would still read my blog, though.

People I’m glad have celiac disease:

  • No one.

*I don’t really wish celiac disease on anyone besides the evil dudes. And the Cookie Monster, because he’s fictional and it would be hilarious.

Who’s on your lists? I know you’ve got ’em.

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