How it all began....

“I think you have Celiac Disease…”  my very young doctor said in his lilting Argentine accent as I sat in the clinic in Buenos Aires on a hot January day.  My mind reeled; I had a hard time understanding what he was telling me.  I had just spent 4 grueling days in the worst pain I had ever experienced without a break;  laying on the floor of our bathroom crying from exhaustion and pain until I decided to stop eating in order to feel better.  After not eating for 2 days, I decided I really ought to see a doctor, mostly because not eating was not conducive to living.  I knew that whatever I was suffering from was food related as I had no other symptoms that matched up with a flu or illness.  Luckily a good friend was able to recommend this clinic and off I went, shaky and pale but hoping for answers.    

“It is an auto immune disease that affects the intestines and your body treats gluten as a poison.  There is a simple blood test I want to do.  Then we can talk about how to introduce food back into your life.”

When the test came back positive and I started educating myself on what this disease meant and how my life was about to change, I thought it was the end.  I was mad.  Furious actually.  I already had food allergies that restricted my diet – shellfish, bovine protein – so no beef or dairy, mushrooms, and beer.  And at the time of my diagnosis I was near the end of a six month sabbatical living in Buenos Aires, Argentina, the beef capital of the world, and I was already trekking 35 minutes one way on a bus to do my food shopping in Barrio Chino, the Chinatown of Buenos Aires, in order to find fresh herbs and produce, along with fish that was expertly filleted for me by a Chinese Argentine who did not understand my Spanish.  And now I had to eliminate all things wheat.  No pasta, bread, grains, cereal, oatmeal, or anything that had been a staple of my diet while living there.  Not to mention the hidden gluten in soy sauce, marinades, prepared foods, deli meats, etc.  Suddenly my food world felt insanely small and I felt like I would never enjoy food again.

After yelling a bit, and maybe throwing a few unbreakable items, I went from angry to determined.  I was determined to eat, and eat well, despite the new restrictions on my life.  And I was going to have pancakes again! And bread!  And muffins! And pasta!  It took me a little while to realize that those things were not entirely necessary in my life, but were a lovely treat.  I was also in the throes of withdrawal from gluten.  Oh yes, your body can go through withdrawal symptoms when you cut out gluten from your diet, I know I was impossible to deal with at the time. I even craved things I did not like... it was a dark two weeks. And the work I would have to put into developing those treats was daunting, because I did not want to eat something that was less than amazingly tasty. “Good enough for gluten free” was never in my vocabulary.

From Buenos Aires we moved to New York City, where I thought all my woes would be cured.  I practically ran to Whole Foods and stood amazed in the special aisle of gluten free foods.  And then I was amazed at the prices.  $8.00 for a box of 10 cookies?  And they ended up tasting like dry starchy Styrofoam, definitely NOT amazingly tasty.  A box of cereal was $9 and it had so much sugar I could not imagine even trying it.  I went from awestruck to dumbfounded in a manner of minutes.  I would find that there were a few good items that tasted fine among all the ones that tasted hideous, if they had a taste at all. But it was an expensive endeavor to figure out which ones they were, and even then, they did not thrill me.  Not to mentioned every baked goodie that I found was filled with butter, cream and sugar, to make up for the lack of traditional wheat flour.  So it did not matter that they were gluten free, I could not have them anyway.  I felt deprived all over again.

Then I stumbled upon a tiny specialty food shop in the Upper West Side called G-Free NYC, where the entire store was gluten free and many items were also dairy free, and the owner had tried every single item she carried to make sure it met her high standards of taste.  My first visit I was not sure, but she offered me samples of a few dairy free items and made some recommendations.  I was supremely happy with what I purchased my first visit, and was able to buy my GF flours and basics from her, along with a few treats that I felt confident buying without trying because I knew that everything in that store had passed her test.    

Then I wanted more. I came from a family where things were baked at home, from scratch, and I used to do that.  I Wanted to do that.  I wanted to bake at home.  If I wanted a muffin I did not want to have to wait until I had a day off to go visit my favorite GF store in the Upper West Side.  I wanted to be able to bake them at home, in my jammies, at 9am on a Sunday morning.

So in my small NYC kitchen (is there realistically any other type?), I felt better able to make whatever I wanted having the supplies I needed and the knowledge I had learned, and I started testing out ideas for cooking and baking.  Some recipes were immediate successes, most were not.  A few never succeeded, but I have not given up hope on them.  This blog is where I will share my stories, recipes, ideas and information about living gluten free.  Which I have decided is a phrase I would like to change, it immediately puts you in the mind of being denied, restricted, without.  And it is not.  Having a gluten free life is simply something different, something else, an alternative way of viewing food and flavor.  And you can for sure not miss out on anything.