Apples to Apples

Gluten-free Mother's Day Weekend

I could write about how great it was to be with our son Jeremy and his family in Maryland for Mother’s Day.  I could say how amazing the grandchildren are, how much I enjoyed Leo’s soccer game, the barbecue at their neighbor’s, the visit with a childhood friend, our Mother’s Day brunch, and Seth’s Mother’s Day email from Berlin which, of course, made me cry.   All good.

Instead, I want to write about gluten. 

We went to lunch after Leo’s soccer game.  The kids and Peter went to Five Guys, a hamburger place, and Katrina and I went to Sweetgreen next door  where  the counter staff composed a gluten-free salad per my direction but put a piece of bread on top of the greens.  “No,” I shouted—you’ll have to start over—I said I needed gluten-free.”

“Not to worry”, they replied.  “It’s gluten-free bread!” 

We took our salads next door to join the males.  Five Guys makes their French fries in a dedicated fryer and they are therefore gluten-free.  I ate my first fast-food French fry since my celiac diagnosis fourteen years age.  It was heavenly.

That night the neighbors offered piles of barbecued pork and chicken brought in for their party.  I planned to stick with the raw veggies.  But my daughter-in-law called the barbecue place and they said I could eat all but the bread. 

The one disappointment was at Costco’s on Friday night where Peter and Jeremy each had a huge ice cream dipped in chocolate and crushed almonds.  The woman at the counter didn’t understand what gluten was so I couldn’t join them.  Peter admitted it was fantastic.  I sulked.

But when Jeremy called Costco customer service after our Mother’s Day Brunch and learned that, in fact, that bar is gluten-free, we took a quick detour on the way home, and Jeremy bought me my own ice cream bar dipped in chocolate and crushed almonds.  Delicious.

Life is gluten-free and good.


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I love your descriptions in this post and related immediately to "I sulked."

I am just back from three weeks in Turkey where I had some high moments in gluten-free eating and some very low ones. Perhaps my best moment was when a restaurant that my daughter found (she's my strongest advocate about gluten-free eating) served me gluten-free bread that I could dip into my own dish of olive oil. Yummy!

My lowest moment was when I had to carry back to our rental apartment 45 minutes away a very heavy bag full of what turned out to be delicious — for the others — tahini buns and almond cookies. As they opened the door, I handed it over saying something to the effect of, "I — the gluten-free person — just carried this very heavy bag all the way back here so you gluten eating gluttons could indulge in your gluten goodies." Do you hear the sulk in that?


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