Two incidents, one that happened last night directly to us, and one that was reported on the news today, made me wonder a very important thing: why do people who can digest gluten feel like being a-holes to people who can't? I get it that y'all find us pretentious for asking a lot of questions in restaurants, and maybe that seems tedious to you. Is it so hard to imagine how tiresome and mildly humiliating it is to always have to ask those questions every single place you go to eat? I'm so over having to discuss the potentially violent intestinal consequences of every bite I eat with total strangers. In this day and age, it would be awfully nice if all restaurant menus were properly labeled so that I don't have to bother anyone with bathroom talk, and can just order like a normal person.
The national news that irked me was a second round of meals offered to college athletes invited to the White House. This has nothing to do with politics, and everything to do with food. If I had been told I was going to one of the most famous residences in history to be honored with a meal for something I'd achieved, and found a pile of cold fast food sandwiches, I would be miserable and insulted. First off, athletes don't eat junk food anymore, but I'm no athlete, so I'll leave that particular point to experts. How inhospitable is it to fail to take into account any of your guests' needs? How many vegetarians were in that group? How many celiacs? How many folks on other specific diets that were ordered by their doctors to manage their health? And not insignificantly, how many people expected real food not junk? No salads, no vegetables, no non-meat non-wheat options. This is the sign of a terrible host, which to someone like me is the greatest of sins.
I'm in that tough situation often. I go to real estate training courses and the like, and they always have "breakfast" spreads consisting of coffee and donuts, and if they're really fancy, bagels and artificially sweetened yogurt (barf--who puts aspartame in yogurt?!). What is wrong with people? You can't set out a banana or anything that helps those of us on the fringes of digestive health? (Spoiler: it's really not that "fringe" anymore.) And if I've paid for a course that comes with a luncheon, and you set out boxes of sandwiches, no, I can NOT just pick the ham out of the middle of a sandwich. Cross-contamination is so deadly for me, I might as well have eaten the whole tray of donuts from the morning session. Be considerate of your audience. Really. Next time you are in charge of food in a convention center where the attendees can't just zip across the hall for a cheese tray or egg salad, please allow a solid ten percent of alternative choices so people like me don't have to sit all day on an empty stomach, and then wolf down french fries in the car on the way home, because that's the only safe thing you can get from a drive-thru window when you're desperate and out of brain power.
The more personal incident that grated on my nerves was over dinner last night at T's. He made a pot roast, and he was kind enough to use cornstarch to thicken the gravy so that I could eat too. But then he pulled out King's Hawaiian rolls and he and Mr S-P fell on them like starving wolves, and it bothered me. Everyone acts like the Mr is so tormented by not being allowed to bring wheat, barley, or oat products that leave crumbs into my house. (Beer does not leave crumbs, so as long as they are careful about spills, using paper towels to clean up so my sponges aren't contaminated, I'm cool with it.) Understand that I am an amazing cook. I used to love to cook with wheat products before I graphed out the straight line between gluten and horrible belly pain. I'm a currently fat woman who had a complicated relationship with food all her life, not interested in eating things that didn't taste good. If I was going to eat at all, I was going to eat well. So now that I've increased the degree of difficulty of eating by eliminating the most common of ingredients, I've stepped up my game. I'm creative and experimental, and so, so talented. I won't lie or offer false modesty. Sometimes my experiments fail, but a large majority of the time, my food is fantastic. There are breads and cakes and cookies and gravies in my house. They are just made with cassava or chickpea or rice or almond flours. Mr S-P is not deprived in any way. He's actually got it quite good, because he doesn't have to do much at all. He just sits there and has gourmet food appear in front of him, and all he has to do is decide whether I hand him a spoon or a fork to use to eat it. All of these people who think he's missing out have been to my house and eaten my cooking. On Wednesday game nights, I almost always provide something, either a main course, dessert, or at least a snack. They all know how good it all is. So for the love of Pete, will they stop acting like they need to slip Mr Smith a plate of spaghetti like they're smuggling contraband into a prison? He's not suffering!
Besides, he is perfectly capable of going through a Burger King drive through and getting a cheeseburger when he wants one. Maybe he can go to dinner at the White House. Take our friends who seem to think life is not complete without a toasted sesame seed bun.
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