I had never heard of Celiac Disease in 2000 when my gastro endocrinologist gave me the results of my endoscopy.  She told me celiac disease required removing all gluten from my life.  Forever.  And that would remove the stomach distress that I had been experiencing. This was not good news for this lover of baked goods.

That was a Friday, and I decided that I would stuff myself with gluten over the weekend and then suffer without gluten forever.  As I recall, I consumed two bags of honey-mustard pretzels, as many bagels as I could eat and lots of other forbidden food.

At that time, there weren’t many gluten-free options.  And the “substitute” items were pretty horrible.  Things are better now.  But even from my local gluten-free bakery, the bagels didn’t justify their name.

On my birthday weekend in New York City, I had a bagel (as reported earlier) to die for.  A gluten-free bakery with a line out the door on a Sunday morning must have something going for it.  Big, chewy, smothered in sesame seeds—everything a bagel-deprived person could hope for.

On the train back to Boston, my backpack was stuffed with a computer, three hard cover books, and a dozen sesame bagels.

On Sunday, I heated a frozen sesame bagel.  I spread it with gobs of cream cheese.  I had a fresh pot of coffee and the newspaper.

Sheer joy.