Giving Thanks...For Corn Free Meals

It's a hard year to be thankful, it seems.  Health care costs have skyrocketed, and making ends meet gets harder each month.
But we have amazing girls.  They're strong young women, with strong ideals.  We spent a few hours out walking, and playing at a local playground.
And then we came home to a corn free, gluten free, dairy free meal.  We all could consume almost everything on the table.  (I can't do green beans, but it's not Thanksgiving without them.  So I had to put them on the table.
What did we eat?  Well...let's see.
We roasted a chicken.  Maybe a bit too long, Mr. Violets couldn't carve it, the meat simply fell off the bones.  But it was good.
We made a mash of parsnips and carrots.  It was surprisingly good, and 3 out of 4 eaters agreed it should be made again.
We had chebe bread sticks.
Sweet potatoes, both fried into chips and cooked with a sweet apple juice/sugar and cinnamon mixture.  A small dish of the sweet version was topped with marshmallows and toasted.  Bumblebee approved.
We had green beans, too.

And there was an apple pie for dessert.  Not that there was much room for dessert, mind you.

All in all, it was a great meal...especially for all the allergies it had to accommodate.  I'm thankful that we didn't have to worry about accidentally poisoning anyone.  I'm thankful that I've stayed over a hundred pounds since April.  And I'm thankful that I'm surrounded by a loving family, that I have a husband who supports my food allergies, and that I have inherently good kids (they're not easy, but they're GOOD.)
I'm thankful that we're still making rent.  And groceries.
I'm thankful...I'm thankful that it's not impossible to eat organic on a budget.  And I'm thankful that I can go to sleep tonight and feel 90% sure that there's both going to be a tomorrow and that I'll be up for enjoying it.
I'm thankful that I can still feel thankful.  Life isn't always easy.  Especially when it comes to allergies.  But when there are family and friends to share it with, it makes things easier.

What I've gained from having a Corn Allergy

When restrictions seem to rule your life, it's hard to keep a positive spin on them.  You go to a party and find yourself turning down delicious dishes, desserts and drinks.  The grocery store is full of off limits food.  You have to call and find out if the school's movie night will be serving popcorn before agreeing to bring your child (or finding someone else to chaperone, so you can continue breathing)
Corn puts specific restraints on life; although it is freeing to know that the rashes and gi symptoms that used to parade as normal aren't something you need to accept and live with the rest of your life, it's also difficult to place restrictions on the air you breathe and the food you consume.
However, when I look back over the past few years since discovering I wasn't suffering from increasingly confusing jumbles of letters that added up to 'just stress', I find that I've learned and gained a lot from living with a corn allergy.
Besides the whole "life really is livable" thing, I think one of the biggest gifts has been learning about our food supply.  It's disturbing, and I'd love to stuff my head back in the sand somedays.  But I've learned a lot about labels and food processing that I otherwise would not have sought out.  I've learned about the plight of small, family farms and a little about political power.  I've discovered that blind trust in earthly matters is generally misplaced.  That's not a bad thing.  It motivates me to feed my family better, to actually make that effort to prepare real meals even if they just consist of organic rice and beans.
I've been forced to re-examine the organic issue.  I've always thought that organic was better, but I didn't really think about why.  Now I know it's much more than a label that I'm concerned about.  Learning about how corn infiltrates our food (thus poisoning my poor digestive tract) led me to an understanding of why there are unknown additions to our food, and why it's so important to support local agriculture.  I've realized that it isn't just organic that I'm looking to support, but foods grown without pesticides or chemicals.  I'm looking for foods that aren't developed in a laboratory. I'm looking for food that is what it looks like, and nothing more.
No compromises.  Everyone says fast food is bad.  But then they get busy and hit the drive through, munching away on those 'paper bag heart attacks'.  I admit, I've fantasized about it myself.  But, with a corn allergy, I can't compromise.  It's poison to me, why would I give it to my kids if it's not even good for them?  Scout night nuggets is not an option, so it's never come up.  I cook.  Maybe not completely from scratch, maybe not gourmet, but still.  It's real food with few preservatives. 
What have I gained from a corn allergy?  A chance to better define my feelings regarding organics and food quality in general.  A better understanding of food politics.  A chance to see how little things that seem insignificant or even wise can really throw a wrench in the bigger picture. 
I have a corn allergy, and it makes me 'that mom'.  A granola mom.  The odd ball out.  But I refuse to do it because I have to.  I'll do it on my terms...I'll define it in ways that make it right for us.  Corn free, naturally. 

How to make a sandwich...with food allergies

No corn.  No gluten.  The first thing to go, without a backward glance, was sandwiches.  Bread is chock full of both those items, in fact...since wheat and yeast and salt make up the gist of most sandwich bread recipes, it seemed impossible to ever find a substitute, beyond rice cakes that is. 
However, life went on.  I didn't really look backwards. 
At least, not until Bumblebee passed the peanut challenge.  Something about peanut butter simply begs for a sandwich.  It's good on a spoon.  It's divine dipped in chocolate.  But it's better on bread. 
The trouble is that most yeast is grown on corn.  I really didn't even want to go there.  And experimenting with a yeast dough using only flours I, personally, am safe consuming seemed simply overwhelming.  It's not like I had a lot of experience with what it's supposed to look like.  And if I screwed up with expensive flours...well.  Lets just say I wasn't anxious for this specific learning experience. 
I'm still not interested in a yeasted dough. 
But, it's been 7 years since I was first diagnosed with corn allergies.  5 or 6 years since I went gluten free and got corn savvy.  I've learned a thing or two about cooking, we have cookies and cake and muffins. 
And so, the corn free, gluten free peanut butter sandwich was born. 
Most people start with a store bought loaf of bread.  Me?  I start with a cup of water.  I beat in a few eggs.  Add my preferred blend of rice and tapioca flours, some sugar and oil, and a touch of cinnamon or nutmeg.  Bake.  Slice.  Smear with peanut butter and...yum. 
It's not that healthy.  There's an awful lot of sugar and carb content.  But, it sure is satisfying. 

Real Food

Recently, struggling to come up with food for Bumblebee, I couldn't help but wonder when we got to this point.  And was immediately assaulted by the memory of sitting in a professionals office, discussing Bumblebee's reluctance to attend school and food issues and being told that she shouldn't be expected to eat the veggies and whole grains I make, since she doesn't have Celiac Disease she deserves "real food".  And an interview with a nutritionist shortly after I was diagnosed with both Celiac Disease and Corn Allergy, tearfully explaining that there was NOTHING I could eat, and the kids needed food too...and being told that I couldn't deprive them of "real food". 
Each time I was on overload, so I nodded, blinked away any tears threatening to fall, and agreed that my limited diet was intolerable for kids. 
But I never thought to step back, narrow my eyes and ask what exactly they considered "Real Food"?  What, exactly, is wrong with a gluten free diet that makes people think of it as "fake" food?  Rice bread isn't any less valid than wheat bread...it just tastes different.  Rice pasta, again, simply has a different texture and taste than 'regular' pasta.  It's not fake.  It's just made from a different grain.
Looking through gluten-free cookbooks always makes me shake my head.  While I am in need of inspiration for nightly meals, I find that specific cookbooks for gluten free foods have a distinct focus on baking.  Breads, cakes, cookies.  Carbs.  Of which we, as a society, get way too many of to begin with.
Real food.  Is it cake?  Pizza?  Macaroni?  And when did it get that way? 
I look at last night's meal (which was a sort of quiche-filling poured over leftover pasta.  Not gourmet, but tasty and chock full of spinach and pepper and onion, as well as protein from eggs)  I wonder what ever possessed me to think that serving cereal or a sandwich to Bumblebee was somehow superior?  A valid choice if she doesn't like the meal, sure.  But more appropriate because it's "real" and has gluten and/or dairy plus corn? 
What's happened to our priorities? 
I'm exaggerating a bit.  I've never really thought a sandwich was "superior" to the rest of the meal.  But there's been that nugget of guilt.  Poor Bumblebee.  Poor Mr. Violets.  They have to put up with fake food, when they could be eating...GLUTEN. 
Well, the guilt is ending (er, well, okay...by ending I mean 'being hidden away and ignored to the best of my ability') right now. 
Tonight's meal is rice and beans with salad.  It's a meal offered on dozens of restaurant menus, and enjoyed by thousands of households in the american continents.  Plural.  There's nothing fake about it, even if I only serve avocado and no cheese or sour cream.  In fact, I believe some would find it even more traditional that way. 
Real food isn't about gluten, or dairy, or any other allergen.  It's about food.  It's about seeing your food, knowing where it came from, and enjoying it.  It's about food that's approachable.  Simple.  Nourishing.  It's the opposite of what you'd pull out of the Star Trek Enterprise holo-replicator mechanism.  It's the good chocolate.  (you know, the only kind I can safely eat that costs a fortune)  It's old fashioned oats or Quinoa flakes.  It's pure cane sugar.  It's water instead of Kool Aid.  It's food that formed on a farm, not in a laboratory, and grew from seeds that weren't GM.  (at least, in my opinion) 
Real food is a recurring theme on allergy boards.  Missing, wishing, dreaming of "real food".  But food without allergens IS real.  It's valid.  It's tasty.  It's nourishing because of what IS in it, not lacking because of what's not. 
And you know what?  In many ways, it CAN be superior to the so called "real" of the Standard American Diet.  Real Food is often gluten free.  Why shouldn't it be? 

So...What do you eat?

Last week we started a Candida diet that was also (mostly) free of gluten, casein, corn, and a host of other smaller allergens. 
The verdict?  Success.  And Mr. Violets is sick of salad. 

In the world of food allergies, one question seems to arise more than any other.  At least, when the subject of either corn or gluten is involved.  That questions is..."What do you eat?"  (said in a variety of tones ranging from pity to suspicion or outrage) 
So here's a list of dinner dishes for a week's worth of meals. 

Baked cod on a bed of spinach and onions.  (3 thumbs up.  Bumblebee declined to taste.)
Homemade 'quiche' (4 wavery thumbs up.  It's better with some sort of cheese.  Off the candida diet, we make two dishes, one with dairy cheese one with dairy free corny cheese.) 
Chicken breast with mashed turnips and salad.  (It's better than it sounds.  3 thumbs up, Bumblebee only gives a 4th thumb up for the salad.  But she at least contemplated the turnips.) 
Tuna casserole.  (not gourmet, but we like it.) 
Crepes with nut butter and soup. 
Spaghetti soufflee
Omelets 

There are a lot of eggs in there, but eggs are a good source of protein, calories and fat.  And they're cheap, which goes a long ways in their favor.  Next week, we're looking forward to Mr. Violet's diet including beans and sweet potatoes again...adding several potential delights to our menu. 

We found that the second week was a bit harder than the first week.  We wanted to revert to our old "make a starch and everyone chooses their own veggies and protein" cycle.  And the heat wave that hit made our appetites wane.  But we seem to be muddling through.  Tonight's menu is stuffed squash for Mr. Violets and the girls; leftovers for me.  Not bad; and could be made corn free if you have a safe source of ground beef.  (or you could probably use lentils.  They aren't listed on the candida free diet, and I haven't actually tried adding them back to my own diet...but I can't eat squash and am still deciding how well tomato sits.) While nothing we made was gourmet, and probably doesn't compete much with restaurant fare, it was homey and tasty and filling.  What more can you ask for? 
That it feed a whole family?  Well, it did that, too.  (Or it would have if Bumblebee were just a little less stubborn.  But again, she tried and gets points for eating salad almost everynight.) 

The Grocery Bill

Some days, I look at the grocery bill and feel guilty.  After all, I'm the one who has the most restrictions.  Chocolate chips cost $3.39; rather than $1.99.  Pasta is pretty close to the same.  I can't swap brands for a better price.  My daughter may be gluten free...but she isn't corn free.  And sometimes gluten free by itself isn't all that expensive.
But recently I was given a puzzle.  As you may recall if you read my blog regularly, I was recently on an extended liquid diet.  Consisting of mostly broth, pureed veggies from said broth, applesauce and gelatin.
It wasn't a very expensive diet.
I was still making meals.  The grocery bill should have gone down a bit, with Mr. Violets having extra leftovers for lunches and Penguin having extra leftovers for munching.  Oddly, it went up quite a bit...just for those two weeks.  I was truly puzzled when I looked over the credit card bill.
But then I turned to the receipts, and I looked in the fridge.
It seems that instead of using those leftovers, new meals were made and consumed.  And instead of finishing off the last bit of hummus, it was pushed to the back to make room for a new tub.  There were 3 tubs of (unsafe for me) margarine in there.  And the summer sale stash I'd stockpiled?
Gone.
So this is what happens when moms get sick.
No one went hungry while I was down.  (And no one goes hungry when I'm *not* down)  Actually, I wasn't all that down and out...the liquid fast thing helped a lot.  I was tired, but mostly functional.  I did work more on "get that yourself". 
I had noticed that the tupperware cupboard was looking a little bare.  I hadn't noticed how much toast Gluten Free Penguin was enjoying.  I was just mentioning the leftovers and presuming the family would follow through.
Before this turns into some sort of poor me rant, I want to skip straight to the point.
Eating allergen free doesn't have to be all that expensive.  It's only expensive when you don't mediate your choices.  Look in the fridge, use those leftovers.  Put off shopping trips, and while it's important to stock up on sale items when they are on sale...they need to still be used as if you don't have a huge stockpile and are still limited to one or two packages a week or month.
I can make a tuna casserole that's safe for all of us.  It's not gourmet, but it's tasty.  It costs about a dollar a serving.  But if we throw half of it away, it costs $2 per serving.  And the amount that is thrown away gets replaced by other, often more expensive, snacks and lunch items.
Likewise...rice and beans costs maybe $4 total?  And after it serves us, there is enough rice leftover, generally, for fried rice tomorrow night. But if we throw half of it away, the cost doubles.  And leftover night becomes "easy meal" night...and easy meals are generally a little more expensive at least for the ones eating single serve items. 
On the other hand, the old standby, a sandwich, costs about $2 each for Penguin.  More if dairy free cheese is involved.  And it's not filling by itself.  $2 doesn't sound like much, but it adds up quickly.  The worst part is that gf bread may be a good vehcle for hummus, tomatoes and other items...but it isn't in itself very nourishing. 
It's good to know that my corn-free status isn't the sole source of high grocery bills.  Allergy eating can be expensive...but it can be affordable, too.  With a little bit of planning. 

Cook Naked

This was the theme of a post in honor of this article, which sheds a little more light and awareness on food sensitivities.  Although I must say, the title and the article weren't as developed as I expected.  The concept rings true.
I find with food allergies, my goal is simplicity.  Simple flavors.  Texture.  Few ingredients.  I don't have a lot to work with, and the more we use at one time, the more risk there seems to be.
Spices, the salt of life, are still limited here.  After all, the best way to stop them from clumping is to add corn starch.  And some of them, of their own accord, bite back.
Sauces...a common and easy way to spice up just about anything old and boring are a powerhouse of hidden gluten, corn, preservatives and artificial colors.  Not to mention other possible allergens.
New ingredients, new flavors, bring new fears.  Anything can cause a reaction and when you have confirmed food intolerance, your food fears are founded in experience and have little to nothing to do with taste buds.
So for us, when I think of cooking with food allergies, "cook naked" makes perfect sense.  It's not about avoiding specific ingredients, because only a person who is allergic to an ingredient truly understands their own level of tolerance.  Some people with Celiac Disease only eat certified gluten free products.  Others simply read the label. 
For me, "cooking naked" means cooking simply, transparently.  Enjoying the full flavor of foods, without having to disguise them.  It's peas, simmered and dressed with a bit of oil (or butter...at the table) and salt.  It's sweet potatoes, roasted in their own juices and a touch of approved oil.  It's brown rice parboiled in water or homemade broth.  And broth that is made with just carrots, celery and onions...no boillion cubes or MSG or autolyzed yeast extract.  It's what you see is what you get. 
Cooking naked is all about letting food speak for itself.  Several months ago, a child was spending an afternoon with Bumblebee and they clamored for a snack.  I offered celery or apples.  The child looked at the celery and said "That looks like a PLANT!"  To which I agreed it did...it still had the leaves at the end.  Her eyes got wide before she said "My mom will not be happy if I come home and say I ate a plant!"  
Penguin felt immensely sorry for the child as soon as the statement was spoken, and has mentioned the incident several times since.  I think shame (of our abnormal diet) and horror that the child didn't realize that vegetables and plants are one and the same are equally disturbing to her. 
And that, perhaps, to me is the heart of cooking naked.  As much as I want Bumblebee and Penguin to fit in...I want them to know what real food is and where it comes from.  And so, we will continue to have celery in it's natural state, attempt to grow a few fruits and veggies in our yard, eat undressed sweet potatoes and place more value on the nutritional value of food than on it's looks. 
Maybe, if we didn't have food allergies, we wouldn't have thought so much about what we eat, and what's in what we eat.  But that just means that food allergies has done us a favor by making us more aware, not just of the content of our food supply, but of the nutritional content (and lack thereof).  It's made us want to know what's in our food, so we can appreciate it more. 
Besides, the simpler our meals, the less time we have to spend preparing them.  

I love it when dinner goes surprisingly well. 
Tonight's plan was to finally make that tuna noodle casserole Penguin was too sick for last night.  (Friday is casserole night; and this week it was going to be Thursday because of rehearsal but everyone got sick.) 
This is a meal that will feed Mr Violets, myself and Penguin.  Bumblebee will eat the noodles with a bit of cheese, if I save the noodles before assembling.  Sometimes.  Other times she makes faces at the dinner table and licks her veggies until her toast is ready.  Yes, she's a bit old for that kind of behavior.  But since it's an improvement and we can see the visual struggle she goes through not to throw a full out tantrum...it's a compromise we live with.  Most of the time.
Anyways.  Back to my story. 
I started with the onion.  Chopped it up and started carmelizing it on the stove.  (I'm not very good at this part...I usually charcoalize bits and soften bits and brown bits.  But I didn't do too bad tonight.)  Then I rinsed out the spinach.  Then I discovered we were out of peas, so I decided that tonight's experiment would be to add peppers. 
Bell peppers are an excellent source of vitamin C, and since the kids both have an exceptionally nasty case of the flu vitamin C sounds like a good plan. 
The water was boiling by now, so I opened the cupboard to pull out the pasta. 
I found spice cake mix for making lunch 'muffins'. 
I found spaghetti. 
I found the Trader Joe's brand rice spaghetti my husband bought by accident and Bumblebee didn't like because it's thinner than Tinkyada and doesn't hold up to overcooking as well. 
I found an extra bottle of grapeseed oil, the mint tea bag I keep up there as protection against food moths and a mysterious curly ribbon. 
Drat. 
Then I remembered telling myself to write "TJ--corkscrew pasta" on the list last time I made pasta.  Before I got distracted by having to play referee and Mr Violet's arrival home. 
Double drat. 
I looked at the softening onions, the casserole dish with spinach and bell peppers and the boiling water.  I furrowed my brow.  I looked at the spaghetti in my hand and thought "But, spaghetti and tuna just sounds...gross.  It's...wrong." 
Then Penguin called out, and I answered. 
"Mommy, if it's not too much trouble, could I have rice and beans for dinner?  I think there's leftovers.  And then you and Bumblebee can have mac and cheese I guess."  (This is a big sacrifice.  Penguin hates when the rest of us have mac and cheese because she can't eat it.  But she's sick, she knows her sister is sick and she wanted to do something nice for her.) 
I looked at the casserole dish again, and let the wheels in my brain turn, vaguely a recipe for savory noodle kugel I once read about.  I assessed my options...and made the spaghetti.  We weren't going to eat it as spaghetti anyways.  Well, I might.  The kids and my husband will continue to hem and haw and choose cereal if we're out of Tinkyada.  (Ironically, they prefer the TJ corkscrews, though.) 
Then I cubed up teensy tiny cubes of cheese.  I didn't feel like grating it. 
I beat 2 eggs.  I probably could have beaten 3, but I was just experimenting at that point.  I really didn't want tuna with spaghetti, I didn't want beans with all those veggies tonight, and I did want a protein. 
I mixed it all together.  Added a ladle full of veggie broth.  Stuffed it in the oven and let it bake for half an hour while I refreshed water bottles, redosed everyone on medecine and started Penguin's leftover rice and beans on the back burner. 

I ended up with a meal that fed 3; just as planned.  It just didn't feed the 3 that I expected it to feed.  And Bumblebee wasn't nearly as thrilled with my concoction as Penguin tends to enjoy regular casserole. 

So it's a definite make again meal.  Maybe next time I'll even try it with an extra egg or two and no cheese.  But, I like the cheese.  It added extra pockets of creamy flavor.  It wasn't a 5 star meal.  It wouldn't earn any acclaim. 
But it was tasty and free of corn, gluten, nuts and dye.  What more can one ask for in a meal?

Once upon a time, I was a vegetarian.  A strict vegetarian. 
I didn't eat red meat, or "white meat", or poultry or fish.  I even swore off eggs and honey and dairy products for a time, in honor of "a cruelty free lifestyle". 
I wasn't judgemental of others choices, or at least...I didn't mean to be.  I thought I accepted them and that any of our teasing was in good natured fun.  But I was proud of my choices, and my ability to wield my choice proudly.  I looked forward to passing this dietary discretion on to my children.  The whole "we choose what we eat, we choose what impact we make on the world, and we choose respect through nutrients" thing that I hadn't completely worked out in my still-maturing mind was important to me; and at one time I identified my conscientious eating as a vegetarian lifestyle. 
I may not have always had an ideal vegetarian lifestyle, and I now realize that pasta roni meals simply aren't nearly as environmentally sound as a few conscientiously harvested scrambled eggs with locally grown veggies.  But I tried. 
Although I still think that cruelty free eating is important, and I'm still on an ethical eating kick...I'm no longer focused on flesh free food.  I'm too busy avoiding gluten, and corn derivatives, and a myriad of other dangers.  When you're corn derivative free...well, your options are remarkably confined.  Add in gluten and dairy to the restrictions and your available proteins are left at...eggs.  Beans.  Nuts.  Throw in digestive disorders...and you start to rethink the whole ethical eating idea. 
As I've stated before, my personal tipping of the scales came when I paused and asked myself "What would Jesus have eaten?"  (I'm not trying to be all high and mighty there, my religious beliefs are certainly convoluted and confusing...but I hang steadfastly to the belief that for me, personally, they are right.  Just as yours are right for you.)  And the answer came to me, quietly but assuredly "Mary made Chicken soup.  'Jewish pennicilin'"  (Again, no offense intended to those websurfers who manage to stumble onto this post from some random web search.)  And so, I sought out safe chicken. 
This has left my family reeling.  I began raising my kids with the "it's better to avoid flesh foods; but we all make our own decisions and we WILL respect others choices" mantra.  They told people they were vegetarian, making their own choices.  And then...then I dropped a landslide as I began sliding into a carnivorous world.  (No, I'm still not eating red meat.  And I'm still keeping it kosher style to the best of my ability.  My half jewish husband isn't very helpful.  His household wasn't kosher.) 
I'm still in the "You choose what you believe" mind set for my kids though; whether we are discussing Santa Clause, the religion they most closely identify with or what to eat for dinner. 
"Meat is bad," my youngest tells me, "You shouldn't eat dead things.  I think it makes them sad.  Would you want someone to eat YOU?" 
And then she glares at me reproachfully.  I try to simply remind her that there is a circle of life on the planet.  And that some animals do get eaten.  Even the Bible condones it, to a degree.  The main thing is to eat anything you choose to eat respectfully.  To choose healthy produce, and whole grains and protein sources. 
She munches on her cheese crackers and continues to glare. 
But my husband, being who he is, purchased bacon.  It's not kosher by any stretch of the imagination.  (except maybe St. Paul) and it's probably not terribly healthy.  Although the bacon purchased is nitrite free. 
He offered some to the kids.  Who eventually accepted. 
I'm not complaining, mind you.  As said...I'm still in the "everyone chooses what to believe" mindset.  And everyone makes their own peace with their choices, so it's fine if the kids want to eat bacon.  I doubt it would be safe for me, even if I could justify consuming pig.  They eat bacon, and I'll even prepare it for them. 
But what boggles my mind is last night's exchange. 
Bumblebee not only wanted bacon...but she didn't want to let Daddy cook it. 
Mommy's bacon is better. 
Now how on earth did an ex vegetarian who still can't bring herself to consume meat from a 4 legged animal ever become the "better" bacon cooker? 
I always say the hardest thing about cooking for food allergies is not getting to taste things to see how they're coming along. 
But apparently, my easy-cheating style of cooking has produced not just an edible bacon...but one that my picky daughter prefers over my (also picky) bacon eating husband's. 
Weird. 

Living the Mixed Kitchen Life

Tonight, I ,anaged to get dinner on the table somewhere around the time that 3 of us were hungry.  It was nothing fancy.  Simply rice pasta (courtesy of Trader Joe's), and a scramble of eggs with carmelized onion and a few greens of varying kinds for those who wanted and could eat them. 
Bumblebee ate early, and was requested next door, where I offered to walk her. 
"Don't poison my dinner," I teasingly warned Penguin and my dear husband. 
Amidst their protests that they love me, would never poison me, did I even have to remind them? I headed out the door with Bumblebee, gave her a kiss, told her when to return and to be good, and returned home. 

Writing the prior paragraph took longer than the entire process. 
However, when I stepped into the kitchen, Penguin was staring at her plate and my husband was at the sink.  My place was empty. 
"What happened?" I queried, trying to see the joke in the matter and thinking that it really looked like my dish in the sink that was being furiously scrubbed. 
Dh turned and gave me the look that I deserved to give him. 
"One thing.  You asked me to do one little thing.  And I couldn't do it!"
"I was only gone two minutes!" I exclaimed, more confused than upset.
"I know!" 
At this point Penguin couldn't help bursting into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation (and probably scared that her parents were going to start a full fledged fight at the dinner table)  And confessed that they'd poisoned my plate accidentally. 
Apparently he reached across the table to help Penguin pour some sauce, and a small amount splashed onto my plate. 
If we were a normal household, I'd have had a sprinkle of undesired flavoring, and ignored it. 
But with food allergies?  It meant an extra plate and eating tomorrow's leftovers. 
Dh was really upset with himself, but like I told him...better to acknowledge the error and not make me sick (I might have suspected eggs!  Or onion!  Or the cheaper TJ pasta!  Or heaven forbid the handful of chocolate chips I treated myself to after dinner) 
It disturbs us because neither of us like the message we send our kids when a crumb, or a drop, of something unintentional happens to land in an unexpected area.  But, the kids aren't satisfied on a corn free diet, and my husband doesn't really want to restrict his diet that far.  And asking makes me feel bad. 
So, we'll continue to be supervigilant.  I'll try not to lose my temper when accidents happen (I try...And this time there was plenty to eat so I really wasn't upset!)  And he'll have to forgive himself when things do.  The real point is that we need to continue to be aware and avert disaster. 

Baking free

No gluten.  No dairy.  No corn. 
After 4-5 years, you'd think I had this down.  But no, I still manage to burn a batch of cookies by doing something dumb, like not thinking. 

So here are a few of my lessons learned the hard way: 

Turn the oven down.  This is the one I get caught on most frequently.  I go into autopilot and turn the oven up to 350*.  Casseroles still cook at 350*.  Cookies and cake go in at 325*. 

Cream the sugar with the eggs, not the fat.  Something about gluten free foods reduces the structural stability of the finished product.  Beating the eggs with sugar helps to build the framework that gluten would otherwise offer. 

To help things rise, beat the eggs in a liquid.  I have no idea why this works.  But if I measure out the liquid first, then beat in the eggs, then fold the dry mix in, I get nice floofy pancakes instead of creamy crepes. No baking soda required (which, in turn, means no sugar is necessary.  The batter isn't sweet, but it isn't bitter either.) 

Use a smaller container.  There just isn't the same stability in gluten free cooking.  Especially when you don't have butter.  (or margarine)  Smaller containers offer the batter something to climb up against, to cling to, to push on.  Whatever the mechanism, they are less likely to come out of the oven with a dense, flat cake. 

Extra grease or parchment paper is a must.  GF goodies stick, and crumble.  Loosen them ASAP, too.

Chill the dough.  Cookies spread less and really are easier to work with if you take the time to toss the dough into the fridge for half of an hour.  (Yes, I still skip this step a lot.  And I get a lot of well-done cookies to show for it.)

Use spices for flavor.  Nutmeg and cinnamon add a nice touch to just about anything sweet, especially when you don't have vanilla.  Using brown sugar instead of white addsd more depth of flavor, too.

Don't expect your creations to mimic Mrs. Field's famous cookies.  Just be happy that they are sweet and satisfying, especially if you can't handle the gums.  

Holidays, food and allergies

It's that time of year again. The dreaded, *ahem* I mean Much Anticipated holidays. Complete with holiday parties, potlucks, cookie exchanges, and other winter celebrations.

Every one of them seem to involve food.

And again, support boards are filling with questions. They run along the lines of "I want to make this particular kind of recipe for my child's class/neighbor/church group. But, we have a very strict no (insert allergen list here) because so and so has a severe allergy. I really want to include so and so. Will this be safe?" Sometimes there are addendums about overprotective parents. Sometimes there are addendums about being knowledgeable because of personal experience. But it all boils down to the exact same firm answer.

Maybe.

First things first: Don't assume that someone is overprotective or overcautious. Only the intolerant individual (or their parents) really know the extent of their personal risk. And if you've ever seen an anaphylactic reaction, especially in a young child, you will do anything at all to prevent it. (From banning peanut butter to chopping down walnut orchards.) Worst case scenario in the case of anaphylactic allergies really is death. It may not be likely to happen, but it certainly spoils the holidays for the unlucky few. And for those who simply experience food "intolerances", shall we say that some believe in fates worse than death and leave it at that? Their holidays might not be much fun even if they DO survive buttered muffin tins.

The point I'm trying to make is that even if you do go the extra mile to ensure that your food offering is safe, accept the possibility that the recipient will still politely decline it. After all, they are the ones who will deal with any consequences.

The less severe the potential reaction is, the more likely a person is to risk "other people's food". Especially in classrooms. (everyone wants to feed kids sugary treats.) And the younger the kids, the more important the difference is.

Before going the extra mile, it's important to know how "allergic" the potential reactor is. There are 3 general levels of food avoiders. Level 1...Will break out in hives and need benedryl if someone opens a jar of peanut butter in the same building. (Okay, I'm exaggerating. A lot. But Level 1 has a severe allergy, and will not be allowed to eat your cookies no matter how safe you think your kitchen is. Mom will need to actually supervise any food prep. Bring fruit if you really want them to be safe, unless they're anaphylactic to it, too.) Level 2 has an allergy, may carry an epi, but can tolerate low levels of cross contamination. This means they might eat a box of crackers that carries the statement "Made in a facility that also processes: XYZ" but can't eat a cracker off the same platter that has cheese slices on it, even if the cheese slices aren't touching. Level 3 is the tricky gray area of intolerance and potential allergens. Usually these parents have been advised to avoid the offending foods for a variety of reasons, and left to decide how cautious they need to be. Some will make exceptions for special occasions and deal with the ensuing reactions. Others will be super vigilant. Most will permit food that doesn't contain the allergen (or obviously contain the allergen)

The best thing you can do is talk to the parent or the sufferer ahead of time. Ask what their comfort zone is, and see if you both are comfortable accomodating their needs. Of course, this isn't always feasible, and sometimes you get vague answers. Hopefully the vague answers will lead you to an approximate reaction level (1, 2 or 3) and you can proceed with the following in mind.

For a level 1 reactor, make sure to avoid their allergen in the actual food product, bring recipe or product labels just in case, but make your peace wit the fact that the kid in question probably will skip it. Your part is to avoid putting them in the hospital just by being in the same room.

For a level 2 reactor, start with safe ingredients (preferably from a new package, since it's easy to cross things like flour and sugar by using the same measuring cup) And make sure your tools are all doubly clean. Avoid wooden spoons, which have deep crevices that may not grow bacteria but certainly make good hiding places for allergenic substances. Keep all of the potential allergens covered and put away during the prep process. (In other words, don't let your husband scramble eggs while you're carefully preparing eggless cupcake mix. The chances of cross contamination are slight, but they disappear when the eggs stay in their shell.) Think out each step of the process. It won't do to grease the pans with an allergen after you've carefully avoided it. Consider decorations, too. Powdered sugar can have wheat or cornstarch. Sprinkles, chocolate chips, frosting...all have potential red flags. Bring ingredient lists with you. Cut them out or take a picture with your phone/digital camera just in case there are questions later.

For a level 3 reactor...you can relax. Read ingredients. Bring labels if you can, and try to remember brand names. But don't gnaw your nails off worrying about the cup of milk your son was sipping as he watched you whip up those top 8 free brownies. Knowing your kitchen isn't allergy friendly, but that the brownies are (and having the ingredient list) is all the level 3 person needs to make a decision. (I wish we were all level 3's)

Of course, the best thing you can do for allergy families is take the focus off of food. Bring stickers, boxes of crayons, or junk jewelry. Or jump on the healthy food bandwagon and look for healthy alternatives. Fruit skewers, veggie platters, meat and cheese platters will all help to avoid the mystery ingredient issues and they lower everyone's stress levels. No one worries if veggie trays will crumble without the egg, if fruit skewers will taste wrong without real butter, or if the crackers will fall in the middle. There's also the benefit of having "real" food available. Most kids are too excited to eat before parties...but will happily devour anything that ends up on their plate and looks appealing. Even if it's healthy. And when you've had 4 other class parties in the past week, anything that isn't covered in frosting will appeal to all the parents.

Everyone wants their goodies to get rave reviews. Everyone wants to be "That Mom". They want to provide the eye popping experience, the awesome dish that gets raved about for weeks to come. But food really does add stress to the lives of allergy sufferers in ways that "normal" people can't imagine. Kids have to be trusted to have willpower beyond their ears. Adults have to walk a fine line between precaution and courtesy. And everyone wants to sit back and enjoy the holidays.

So if you really want to do something nice for someone with allergies...relax. Make your favorite signature dish, taking reasonable precautions. Give details of the ingredients in minute detail. (Even cooking spray has potential allergens) And then turn a blind eye to those who choose not to partake. They aren't trying to spite you. And they are just trying to enjoy the holidays as much as you.

Maybe it would help if we think of it this way. Allergy sufferers aren't just trying to avoid a nasty reaction. They're also protecting the baker from the guilt of causing one, and the other guests from witnessing it.

Getting creative

Well, trying to get creative, anyways.

I have figured out my problem. The real trouble is quite simply the vast number of intolerances I'm juggling. Lets see...The sum total of everyone's current avoidances?

Gluten
Corn (and all of it's derivatives)
Dairy
Squash/gourds (Includes cucumber and melon)
Citrus
Cruciferous vegetables (broccolli etc)
Soy (lecithin okay)
Potatoes
Yeast
Refined sugar
pecans (and possibly other nuts)
Artificial dyes and preservatives
sesame (including oil)
kidney beans
asparagus
beef
pork
shellfish
Olives (including oil)
green beans
lentils

It seems like I'm forgetting something...Hmmm...

Plus all foods need to be carefully washed, peeled, and thoroughly cooked. Even fruit.
Avocados are the exception. Maybe overly ripe bananas.
Still crunchy onion in scrambled egg? Yum, but bad. Stuffing with nice, thick chunks of celery for crunch? Delish, but bad.
And there are foods that are good, but only in moderation. Sauteed spinach. Guar gum/xanthan gum (not good on any of our tummies) Quinoa. Beans. Artichokes. Sweet potatoes.
And foods that we're supposed to try under controlled conditions. Nuts/nut butters, tomatoes, anything "new".

And then there's the whole clueless-when-it-comes-to-meat issue.
It's hard to find food we all can eat!
Then you have to take into account food preferences. Bumblebee won't touch beans. Or chicken. Or sweet potatoes. Or...well, she's picky. It's better if her foods don't touch too much. And if they aren't soup. Or saucy. And if she can dip them in parmesan.
Penguin will experiment a bit. But she draws the line at fish. And you can never second guess her. Serve eggs at the wrong moment, and you hear for an hour about how they're "okay, except that they are just disgusting."
And if she doesn't eat, she gets a migraine and misses 2 days of school. (I'm not exaggerating. I can send her, but they send her right back.)

Tonight I was pondering the options. Penguin requested spaghetti (Tinkyada rice pasta) and I was obliging. Since I was craving beans and cheese, I made that on the side for dh and I.
It occurred to me that it wouldn't seem like spaghetti every day, if I could do more with it.

Perhaps stir in some tomato sauce. No, wait.
Maybe just veggies and cheese for a nice...no, wait.
Hmmm.
Well, I could do chow mein for all, sautee onions, garlic, peppers and scramble in some eggs. Drizzle with soy...oh, wait.

Dh and I like the soy-less chow mein. But Penguin prefers the soy cooked in. That takes an extra pot.
We'd like any of the cheese creations, too. But they're blends, so bumblebee will only look. And Penguin can't touch. 2 pots, again.
And Penguin and dh would enjoy the tomato bake, especially with olives. But me? Um, I'd like the taste. Tomorrow I'd regret it. And the next day. And the next. Maybe even next week.

We get back into the question of "what will I serve the rest of us?"

*sigh*
Roasted sweet potatoes and eggs for 3
Spagghetti with a variety of toppings feeds all
Rice feeds 3 (we can add beans, or fry it sans soy)
Chicken (with leftover starchy foods) feeds 2-3 of us
3 can eat dinner salads (or side salads made dinner size for those not partaking of the full meal) But the pots and stress of preventing cross contamination drive me batty.

I want to make the kitchen safe for all.

First, I need more options to play with...

Keep your fingers crossed that we pass the wasabi test this weekend. (hopefully this weekend, I reserve the right to back out at any moment.)
I'm not sure it will increase our options any, but man...do I want something spicy!

It appears I'm not the only one who feels overwhelmed by the concept of cooking from scratch, preparing meals (namely meat) and planning around ingredients.
It's a cultural thing.
Americans have slowly allowed the "cooking culture" to die out. Through a generation (or two) of Cathy comics (I made my favorite thing for dinner, Reservations!) and latchkey kids with TV dinners and microwave meals, Julia Child has become a household legend...and fallen from the ranks of female empowerment to the unachievable Martha Stewart or Donna Reed.
According to this article by Michael Pollan (who first revealed the corn controversy to the masses in Omnivore's Nation) We, as a nation, don't cook anymore.
The 8 pages are a lot to wade through on screen, however, it's an interesting read.
I still think my meat eating husband could give the vegetarian a hand in planning meals that involve flesh foods (and their leftovers) But I also think that much of the country is in the same boat we are.
Although, I must say...it seems like it would be easier if I didn't have to worry so much about corn in every new potential ingredient.

Slow Food

There was a time prior to the allergy diagnosis when we ate "normal" processed foods, and yearned for something more. A return to "old" cooking. I quickly learned that this meant different things to my husband and I.

One year, I wanted to do something special for his birthday. I was still trying to wrack my brain when he commented idly how much he missed butterscotch pudding.

Pudding?

Yes, pudding. But not just any pudding. Not the little plastic cups that you get at the store, and not the instant boxes. Real pudding. Old fashioned pudding. His eyes closed as he broke into a fond reminiscence...He conjured for me an image of his mother, with a frilly apron, slaving for hours over a hot stove, stirring a pot full of bubbling butterscotch pudding. She'd always have to make a double batch, and there were never leftovers.

The next time I saw his mom I asked about her recipe. She was vague. Pudding is pudding. She suggested I just buy some and tell him it was homemade.

Undaunted, I called her. I asked again, seeking specifics. Again, she was vague. It was a long time ago, she said, you don't want to go through all that trouble. Its all the same anyways.

But the trouble was going to be part of the gift. This confirmed to me it was real, old fashioned pudding she used to make. The good stuff I'd read about pioneer day books. I perused cookbooks. I looked online. Finally, I found something that looked promising. I carefully gauged the grocery bill that week to allow for real butter and actual cream. I measured, poured, and pot-watched. I stirred until my shoulders screamed for mercy. I entreated the toddler to entertain the baby. I almost cried when bits of scrambled egg appeared, but quickly grabbed a sieve and scooped most of them out.

At last, we proudly, albeit nervously, presented the concoction to my surprised husband. Who took a bite, and tried to conceal his disappointment. Shrugged and while I can't remember everything he said, I do remember one sentence. "Maybe she used a different brand. We could call her and ask."

Brand? Brand? Brand of what? Vanilla? Did she use real scotch? (I'd opted against that recipe) This had become a vendetta for me. I wanted to get it right. Was it the bit of egg that scrambled? WHAT?!?

He gave me a funny look.
Later his mom confirmed that "old fashioned" pudding was the famous J-brand...it comes in a box. (Eventually the enormity of my cooking fiasco was also made clear to my beloved husband, and he apologized for not being more grateful. He'd never fathomed the possibility that one could make pudding out of brown sugar, eggs and cream; let alone that it could take any more time or effort than baking muffins, which I did regularly.)

I think of this story with a chuckle whenever the concept of cooking from scratch is brought up. Because it seems that every generation over the past 100 years has it's own new idea of fast food, and it's own brand of nostalgic "from scratch" cooking. First those lucky town ladies who could waltz into the corner butcher shop for steak, or veal or chicken parts rather than keeping and slaughtering their own. Then the canned soup revelution. As soon as freezers became a household staple, there were TV dinners. And we've progressed.

My daughter pleaded for a cookbook at the last school bookfair, and when I leafed through it we found that not one of the recipes called for any fresh ingredients. They were all branded products. A woman at a Girl Scout meeting asked about our food allergies, and mentioned that while it seems hard for kids it also doesn't seem like a very big lifestyle change. She makes everything from scratch.

Of course I was interested...But very quickly learned that "from scratch" means using prepackaged ingredients along with some fresh herbs and prepackaged spice mixes to create a new dish. My vision was fresh baked bread, dicing veggies, and canning fruit. I suppose the dicing veggie part was accurate. She was offended that I consider sliced bread "packaged". Let alone her canned tomatoes.

Scratch cooking is a lost art. People don't know what a rhubarb is, much less what to do with one. Do you cook radishes? Are onions supposed to be this papery? How do you carve a Turkey? And what is this weird packet inside it? The term "cooking from scratch" has come a long way in the past hundred years ago. In fact, a hundred years ago, I doubt the term even existed.

There was a point in time when cooking a meal meant beginning with the decision of which chicken was next to slaughter. Meal planning was automatic. You went to your pantry, you put together what was there. There were signature dishes, of course, but as authors who try to create period style recipe books tell us, the expected results may vary significantly from today's standards.

My peers look with trepidation at an artichoke. My husband asks if he can toss the parsnips, assuming some carrots have gone bad. A woman in the store complains about the dirt left clinging to a potato, which makes me laugh. With a corn allergy, I look for dirt on my produce. Dirt means it's real. It's fresh. It hasn't been polished with corn derived wax, or rinsed with special germ fighting corny solution. Corn allergy has resurrected an understanding of "scratch".

It's also brought about an appreciation of simple food. Pasta with oil and a few veggies is delicious, elegant, and easy. Bread is a luxury, not a daily right. Rice is versatile. It goes well with beans, or eggs, or veggies or soup. And it's easy...rinse, glance through for stones (Which are hard on the teeth, but gluten, corn and casein free) and cook. Eggs are the ultimate fast food. If you want to enhance a vegetable, roast it with onions. The scent of caramelized onion will improve any meal and spark almost anyone's appetite.

I'm still struggling to come to terms with using meat, too. I can see the beauty in the simplicity. A roast chicken, a vegetable, a starch and you're done. However, there's a huge hole in my meal planning history that never included meat to begin with. I was raised vegetarian in the Seven Talents post-seventies granola era. Grains were high priority, although our doctors encouraged a heavy hand with the cheese. Until recently, we were encouraged to simply combine grains well. Eat a variety of supermarket and restaurant offerings. Too much thinking is discouraged. Look for an explosion of flavors, pour mixes and boxes together. Voila! A taste sensation.

Even the medical community, who is supposed to be supporting the slow food revolution, is slow to accept the movement. "And try to cut back on the fast food," the pediatrician always admonishes as we leave the office. I give him a withering look, but our lifestyle, our real, honest to goodness eating at home every night lifestyle, is beyond comprehension.

However, I'm still struggling to master the art of June Cleaver style cooking, and balance the pyramid.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...

Despite my aforementioned physical issues at the moment, I did want to include a happy post today.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas! Baking has rejoined our Christmas routine, and there is just something about my youngest helping me in the kitchen that makes things brighter. She takes great pleasure out of baking, and the stress involved is generally worth it.

Our latest creation is sugar cookies. We took a regular recipe, adapted it to suit our needs (with oil and rice flours), chilled it and broke out the cutting board and rolling pin. This was my first time using this rolling pin...bought brand new so that I could have the pleasure of baking again, but I haven't been motivated enough. (See, I'm not really depressed...)

I warned her in advance that new recipes don't usually come out that great the first time. That there would be some tweaking involved. That she should not dissolve into tears or throw anything if it wasn't working out the way she imagined. I shot my oldest a "look" and informed her that gluten cut out cookies are just as frustrating, the only difference being that "normal" flour has many more experimenters and is, well, a lot cheaper to fail with!

She huffed at me. My youngest opened her eyes very wide, nodded solemnly and promised not to get upset if we could only experiment. And we did!!!!They're just as nummy as they look...even better; since they don't hurt my tummy and my husband claims they're better than regular sugar cookies. (With the caveat that he only eats regular sugar cookies because the snickerdoodles or oatmeal ones are gone.) We did lose a few angels to pan-sticking and other breakage...but I was very impressed and walking-on-air happy. You might need to try a few gluten free, er, "goodies" to fully appreciate the sensation.

Now, if only they'd lasted long enough to decorate with mini chocolate chips...Or, something else uncorny...