45. Food Fascism

Right now I’m a food fascist. One of those people whom, I’ll admit, I used to mock. Well not so much mock but to say ‘make jokes about’ would have been ending the sentence with a preposition and I do try not to do that when I can.

Not that I'm a grammar fascist, honest. If you happen to be one, you'll enjoy going back through these blogs and finding both places where I did end sentences with prepositions. :-D

Anyway, as I’m, technically, on a no gluten, no cow-dairy, mostly vegetarian etc. diet I now don’t eat the kinds of things that the food fascists don’t. But I’ve found that totally impossible while staying with friends in London. And almost totally impossible buying salad lunches from the shops. Everything seems to have something in it that I shouldn’t eat.

I’m fine with fish and chicken – though not every day. But it has been pretty much every day in London. Friends have cooked me chicken and fish or taken me to restaurants with chicken and fish ... or Indian restaurants where everything has milk in it or comes with rice (which has gluten), a pancake (ditto) or nan bread. They’ve cooked most of the food in the microwave – which you’re supposed to avoid like the plague on this kind of diet. The first night at the Bish’s his flatmate had bought us all pizzas ... which do tend to have a tad of gluten and cow cheese here and there.

Please don’t get me wrong: I’m not at all cross about any of it. I’m incredibly touched at the kindness I've been offered and I have eaten off the grid quite a few times this week, knowing that the love in the food more than made up for kicking over the restrictions. I know that unless you’re living with this diet you won’t get it. And I’m very lucky in that I’m just choosing to eat carefully to help my immune system. It must be hell if you’re celiac.

The last night with the Bish, it was just the two of us (and Johnny Depp). I cooked a veggie stir fry with leeks, pak choi, sugar snaps, broccoli, asparagus, garlic, ginger, chilies and fermented soy sauce. We had it with organic gluten-free pasta which two London friends had recommended and which doesn’t either stay rock hard or dissolve into mush and actually tastes like pasta.

It was scrummy and yummy and we cleared our plates and were very happy bunnies. And then he offered me a large Cadbury’s Caramel bar. Bless him. I love that man but at that moment I could have kicked him to hell and back.

No, I didn’t have any. And the apple was nice. Truly.


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