Sunday, October 21, 2007
Gluten Free Goodness
I'm coming up on my fourth anniversary of my diagnosis of celiac sprue and adjustment to a gluten-free life. (Note how it coincides perfectly with all the food magazines' Thanksgiving issues.) But the last two years have made the biggest difference.
The food labeling law that went into effect in January 2006 has made grocery-shopping so much easier. Yes, I still have to read the labels on everything I buy. But now wheat -- as one of the eight major food allergens -- has to be identified. So, no more wondering about ingredients such as "modified food starch" or "hydrolized plant protein."
Budweiser introduced Redbridge beer at the end of last year. Not bad... I tended to go for darker beers, so it's a little wimpy for my taste, but I can now dust off some recipes I haven't used for a while.
I had a sandwich last month. No, wait, let me correct that... I had a good sandwich last month. Gluten-free sandwich bread tends to be gritty or crumbly. The sandwich breads made by Whole Foods gluten-free bakery or the ones I've made myself are fine, but more artisanal. They lack the yielding, spongy goodness of regular sandwich bread. Then I went to Austin and ate at Wildwood Art Cafe. They serve their sandwiches on the most fabulous gluten-free hamburger buns... and they ship.
I went to New York City on a business trip a few weeks ago. I tend to fear business trips, food-wise. It means pizza, bagels, danishes, box lunches, and lengthy explanations to dumbfounded waiters. This time it meant succulent fruit, fabulous Greek food, huge prawns, buttery bites of tuna, and waiters who knew immediately what I required.
Shauna's book is out. Shauna, the Gluten-Free Girl noted on my list at left, is inspiring -- not only in her writing, but in her approach to life. To spread the word online while she's traveling nationwide, she's set up a virtual book tour among leading food bloggers. It's fun to read others' takes on living gluten-free, especially from the ones who don't have to. Go, check it out.
And don't forget to say "yes."
The food labeling law that went into effect in January 2006 has made grocery-shopping so much easier. Yes, I still have to read the labels on everything I buy. But now wheat -- as one of the eight major food allergens -- has to be identified. So, no more wondering about ingredients such as "modified food starch" or "hydrolized plant protein."
Budweiser introduced Redbridge beer at the end of last year. Not bad... I tended to go for darker beers, so it's a little wimpy for my taste, but I can now dust off some recipes I haven't used for a while.
I had a sandwich last month. No, wait, let me correct that... I had a good sandwich last month. Gluten-free sandwich bread tends to be gritty or crumbly. The sandwich breads made by Whole Foods gluten-free bakery or the ones I've made myself are fine, but more artisanal. They lack the yielding, spongy goodness of regular sandwich bread. Then I went to Austin and ate at Wildwood Art Cafe. They serve their sandwiches on the most fabulous gluten-free hamburger buns... and they ship.
I went to New York City on a business trip a few weeks ago. I tend to fear business trips, food-wise. It means pizza, bagels, danishes, box lunches, and lengthy explanations to dumbfounded waiters. This time it meant succulent fruit, fabulous Greek food, huge prawns, buttery bites of tuna, and waiters who knew immediately what I required.
Shauna's book is out. Shauna, the Gluten-Free Girl noted on my list at left, is inspiring -- not only in her writing, but in her approach to life. To spread the word online while she's traveling nationwide, she's set up a virtual book tour among leading food bloggers. It's fun to read others' takes on living gluten-free, especially from the ones who don't have to. Go, check it out.
And don't forget to say "yes."
Friday, October 12, 2007
Boys and Their Toys
For the past couple months, construction workers have been expanding the San Antonio River from Houston St. down to the San Antonio Museum of Art -- right in front of where I work. Every day when I cross the McCullough St. Bridge, I see grown men leaning over the railing, transfixed by the earth movers and rebar. They may have given away their Tonka trucks, but they still remind me of little boys.
