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For those of us on the East Coast, today has brought a return to summer weather…but as WBAL-TV just reminded me, this is the first time in 18 days that the temperature at BWI has reached 90 degrees. That’s right 18 days! Those of you who have endured Baltimore/DC summers know just how rare a streak that is in late July and early August. This past week has brought rain, thunder, and more rain…but it was the week prior which had the most surprising weather. I walked out the front door one morning and was met by an unfamiliar feeling: cold. Not cold enough to go back in and change…but chilly compared to the warm, humid mornings I’d become accustomed to. The breeze in the air and the need for a light sweater had me suddenly overexcited for what I affectionately refer to the most wonderful time of the year: fall.

The best things happen in fall: a new school year, crisp mornings, jeans and cozy sweaters, crunchy leaves, corn mazes, apple-picking, candy corn, and of course: all things pumpkin. Now candy corn is long gone from that list and I’ve made my peace with that. But the one thing that has plagued me since the day they said no more dairy, soy, OR corn syrup was, “How in the world will I face fall without pumpkin spice lattes??”. When I say that I love them, it’s an understatement. I count down the weeks until October arrives…and some years I even break my own self-imposed rule and let myself get one in September. (Apparently they released them August 1st in most locations but I say that’s just crazytown!! August is SUMMER, not fall.) I save up my Starbucks gift cards all year for October and November. I treat myself once a week. (At least) And it’s not simply a taste thing. Yes, they’re delicious…but it’s more than that. Some of the best conversations I’ve had with friends have been accompanied by a pumpkin spice latte. From Philadelphia to DC to Birmingham to South Bend, and of course in Baltimore, many a life chat has taken place during a cool, brisk walk with a warm pumpkin spice latte in hand. It’s not just a drink, it’s an experience. 

Well, I’ll be honest….this year, I’ve been having mixed emotions about the impending seasonal change. You’ve probably been there: that feeling when you’re facing the first holiday without a certain loved one or in a new place that isn’t traditionally where you celebrate. Or maybe the feeling when you’re about to return to your college campus, your old high school, or even an old neighborhood where you grew up knowing full well that it won’t look the same and that the faces you see there will be unfamiliar ones. It’s a feeling of excitement dampered by trepidation; a feeling of wanting to find joy but knowing deep down that some level of disappointment is inevitable. That pretty much summarizes my sentiments toward Fall this year.

My plan was to spend the summer perfecting an allergen-free pumpkin spice latte (and all other things pumpkin: muffins, donuts, etc.). But summer had other plans and here we are in August, just a few short weeks from my favorite season, and if my calendar is any indication, time is already running short to do so. I expressed my momentary panic about this to my mom on the phone just the other night as I finished up a run in the unseasonably cool weather.

Well, mark your calendars. Today, August 9^th is a day which will forever be an important one in my life. After an unexpectedly stressful afternoon, I was ready to head to my 3 o’clock shift at the hospital. I knew I needed a coffee fix to right my attitude for the afternoon so I stopped at my favorite Baltimore coffee joint: Baltimore Coffee and Tea. I really believe just the scent that meets you at the door is enough to turn your day around. 

As I waited to pay for my large coffee, I noticed the woman in front of me was buying a bottle of pumpkin spice syrup. “Great, just what I needed today” was my first thought, “a reminder that fall will never be the same”. Then I stopped myself and thought “Wow, who is this negative Nancy and what did you do with Katie??”(Yep, life is pretty entertaining inside this brain.) So on my way out the door, I stopped at the syrup shelf. I picked up the pumpkin spice bottle thinking  “Well, I guess I’ll see what’s in it and do my best to recreate it minus the corn syrup”. And that’s when the world stopped turning for a moment. And unlike all the other times this year, this time it was stopping because I was so happy I couldn’t believe my eyes. PURE CANE SUGAR!!! NO HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP! I committed the company who makes the syrup to memory and walked out the door thinking it had to be too good to be true. I drove to St. Joe’s, settled in at my desk, and held my breath as I googled away. And here is what I found:

That’s right: gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan (that means no eggs to worry about!!!) and simple ingredients. I even called to double check that none of those flavors somehow involve corn: so far so good!! It was like the weight of the world flew off my shoulders. Forget the grumpiness I had been feeling just moments ago…I was flying high. And as I sit here looking up milk steamers and planning my now-much-easier pumpkin spice latte using coconut milk and Moninsyrup, I’m finally looking forward to fall the way I usually do: with unbridled excitement. 

I’m already dreaming of the life chats I’ll have with friends over my new and improved pumpkin spice lattes (most likely in my kitchen this time since I’ll be making it from scratch)…or packed up in our to-go mugs so we don’t miss out on the “walk in the crisp air” component. I’m imagining walking out into a cool, crisp morning with my thermos of coffee and a quick pump of pumpkin syrup as I head off to another day of school. I’m once again excited by the prospect of picking apples, baking pumpkin-flavored treats, and bundling up in cozy sweaters (the corn maze I may skip…potentially hazardous being completely surrounded by the enemy). The best part is once I saw what is in those Starbucks syrups, well let’s just say I’m not so crazy about the idea of drinking one anymore anyway. Do yourself a favor, don’t look it up. Just wait for my recipe…or better yet, come visit and try one for yourself 🙂

So, soak up these last few weeks of hazy, hot, and humid summer days. I know I will be. But I’ll also be experimenting to find the perfect Monin syrup to coconut milk to spices ratio…and once I do, I’ll be posting the recipe here, just in time for those crisp October mornings. Or maybe late September if I’m anything like my 8-year-old self who had to give out Christmas gifts the day they were chosen and wrapped (even if it was Dec. 15^th.). Until then, I’ll be sitting here dreaming of fall…and basking in the happiness I found knowing that not even my crazy list of food allergies can take away my favorite season of all.

And thank you, Monin and Baltimore Coffee, for turning a not-so-great day into one of the best days I’ve had all year 🙂

Today begins what I affectionately refer to as the August Rush. (Not to be confused with the movie of the same name. Good movie, GREAT music score) To me the August Rush refers to those crazy few weeks in which school suddenly seems close enough that I have to entertain (not dwell on, just entertain) the thought of coming up with ideas, plans, and bulletin boards for the coming year but also far enough away that I want to squeeze every last drop of sun, fun, and friends as I can during these waning summer days. I’m deep in the heart of that right now…I had to close my planner yesterday because just looking at it made my head spin. So as I embark on 3 weeks of “last-drops-of-summer-break” squeezing, I must forewarn you that will probably mean less frequent posts. Then again, you never know. Sometimes exciting things happen that just need to be shared. One such event unfolded this past week. Get excited.

It seems hard to believe but it was only 3 years ago that I was finally introduced to the magic that is a Chipotle burrito. In the time since, Chipotle has certainly earned itself a prime place in my heart. In fact I had already told several people to prepare themselves for a Chipotle-catered rehearsal dinner one day. I mean delicious food, so many choices that everyone is bound to be pleased, AND everyone will end up feeling so stuffed they may not eat for another 24 hours, what more do you need?? Well, maybe everyone wearing these (http://www.zazzle.com/pi_love_tee_shirts-235741924053722449). But regardless. (Yes, I know, this is the same girl who gave you the independent, “I don’t need a co-pilot” speech last time…I still let myself dream once in awhile 🙂 )

As my food intolerance list grew during the spring, there were few things that remained stable in my life. I even had to briefly stop drinking coffee. (I shudder just thinking about it.) But Chipotle? That was always there. An oasis of delicious, allergy-safe options. Sure, I had to change my order, first to burrito bowls without the flour-filled wraps, then minus the cheese once dairy was out of the picture, but still I was always in my glory there. Safe, filling food AND I could even eat their corn chips! They have a dedicated fryer (unlike Qdoba). Can you see why a little piece of my heart belongs to the lovely folks at Chipotle??

Well, obviously the “no-more-corn” news threw me for a loop. No more perfectly-salted/hint-of-limed tortilla chips for this girl. But I comforted myself with the thought of a delicious heaping burrito bowl. Until I pulled up their allergen information just to double check (in my mind thinking, you never know where corn could be hiding).  I was greeted by my favorite allergen info greeting:

“So funny Chipotle, thank goodness I don’t have an allergy to that yet”, I chuckled to myself as I read on to find the convenient allergen chart. Well, at that moment my poor Chipotle-loving heart sank to the floor: SOY. There is soybean oil EVERYWHERE. There were literally only 3 safe options left for me: romaine lettuce, salsa, and guacamole. Not even rice!! How does one make a meal out of that?? (http://www.chipotle.com/enus/menu/special_diet_information/special_diet_information.aspx)

So, just like that, I said my sad farewell to Chipotle. I gave away my remaining coupons and gift cards (a true perk of being a teacher) and embarked on a Chipotle-free existence. In a strange way, it somewhat resembled an unforeseen break-up: I insisted to myself (and others) that I was better off this way, that it was all part of some greater plan. I didn’t need them. I would create my own version and I would show them! After a few hours on Pinterest and few decent attempts at recreating my own, I had come up with something that was not quite the same but certainly fulfilled my needs to an acceptable point. I could go days, even weeks sometimes, without thinking about Chipotle but I also knew it was lurking somewhere in the back of my mind. And every once in awhile, out of the blue: there it was. I would think about it…or drive past and stare longingly. But I was moving on with my life and I would someday give that once-dedicated-to-Chipotle piece of my heart to something else.

Then just like the pivotal moment of your favorite chick flick (you know when the crowd parts and the long-lost love returns to admit he or she was wrong and beg for forgiveness), Chipotle made an announcement. Cue the sappy music: Chipotle has not only decided to identify all GMO ingredients (genetically-modified-organisms…AKA unnatural) (http://www.chipotle.com/en-us/menu/ingredients_statement/ingredients_statement.aspx) BUT they’re also working to eliminate them. What does that mean exactly?? Well, thanks to my new friend Nathan at Chipotle Customer Relations I can tell you.

So in short, my love affair with Chipotle is back on. Or at least it will be in due time. (And theoretically so is my rehearsal dinner…better add Chipotle-lover to that co-pilot description!) Until the day of my glorious reunion with Chipotle, please go support them. Show them your love and enjoy your heaping bowl/burrito of deliciousness and a side of those perfectly salted/hint-of-limed chips.

Also, I just have to share this excerpt from the email they sent me today. I always knew deep down that the feeling was mutual…ah yes, the joy of requited love 🙂

There are few things left in this world that seem to unite humanity on some universal level…but I’d say the quest for Mr. (or Miss) Right is one of them. I’d say around age 5, we girls tend to dream of a handsome prince who will sweep us off our feet and make us feel like the Disney princess we long to be. For me, it was Belle. No question. (Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty certain boys just think about cartoon characters and video game people for the majority of their childhood days. I think that’s where the trouble begins.) As we get a little older, our criteria for Mr. Right continues to evolve: he morphs from a dashing prince into a gangly teenager who will take us to prom (and maybe even a movie?); in college it’s someone who will take us to dinner (OFF CAMPUS!) and maybe even brave a trip home to meet our family. The picture in our head continues to morph as we do…at least hopefully it does. If you’re still stuck in the Disney prince mode, time to move on. Reality is better than those one-dimensional characters anyway 🙂

I’ve been fortunate to witness many successful relationships in my 27 years of life. Both sets of my grandparents will celebrate 60 years of marriage in a few weeks. One set will be lucky enough to celebrate it together with their children and grandchildren in attendance. The other set will celebrate the way they spend each and every Sunday: my grandfather will sit at my grandmother’s grave with his bagged lunch, a weekly tradition he has kept without fail for nearly a decade now since the day she left his side. And then there are my parents. I may have only had 14 years to witness their relationship but in that brief amount of time, they taught me more about the graces of married life, the gravity of wedding vows (particularly the sickness and health part), the beauty of laughter, and above all, what it means to love someone unconditionally, than I think many children get to witness in a lifetime. I’ve been fortunate enough to stand beside friends as they have exchanged their vows. I’ve fielded excited phone calls with the shrieks that can only mean one thing: engagement. I’ve sat and analyzed (and I’ll be honest: overanalyzed) phone calls, dates, relationships, etc. with many a friend and roommate. I’ve swooned over precious stories, squealed about long-awaited phone calls or conversations, laughed about priceless moments, painstakingly crafted text message/email responses, and offered tissues and a crying shoulder (over cartons of ice cream of course) when a relationship doesn’t go quite the way someone had hoped. And that’s all just as an outsider. Granted, I’ve seen my fair share of some of the above on my own as well.

The reality is: wherever you are, I’m here to make you feel better. You think it’s truly impossible to find Mr. (or Miss) Right? You’re over this whole elaborate dating game? Well, I hear you. But try adding a food allergy into the mix. Yep, dating is about to get a lot more interesting. I’d even venture to say entertaining. For those of you who don’t have to live it at least. Read, enjoy…and maybe, just maybe, you’ll feel a tiny bit better about your respective place in the dating game. Whether you’re the allergy sufferer, you’re in pursuit of an allergy sufferer (kudos to you…way to be proactive), or you’re just ready to be entertained, here is my story and my advice. I am by no means an expert on food allergies or relationships…but if I can help just one soul out there avoid an unnecessary awkward moment, I’ll feel my journey is not in vain  🙂

It was shortly after my gluten-free diagnosis and I was back at the doctor’s office for my “Life as a Celiac” session. I was handed packets of lists, recipes, safe foods, unsafe foods…most of the things I’ve shared (or will be sharing) in this blog. Many of them were things I had already learned in my extensive internet, library, and bookstore searches. Then came a conversation I never saw coming:

And I meant it. Wholeheartedly.

Well as luck and life tend to work,  when I returned for a follow-up appointment just a few weeks later, one of the first questions the doctor posed was “So how’s that whole ‘no boys until Christmas’ thing going for you?” All he got in response was a red face and a silent smile. At which point he headed for his closet with the words, “Yeah I kind of figured that would be the case” and handed me this.

Yep, you think the whole walk-him/her-to-the-door, do-I-give-him/her-a-hug, how-many-dates-until-I-can-I-give-him/her-a-kiss game is complicated for you? I bet it’s looking pretty good right now. You fellow allergy-sufferers, I know. It’s horrible. Go ahead, have a mental freak-out. Swear you’re running to the nearest monastery or nunnery. Head immediately to the SPCA and then PetSmart to outfit what is sure to be the first of many cats in your future. I was right there with you. But perhaps there is a different way to look at it. The situation is still an awkward one, I can’t magically change that. Those of you without food allergies, take a moment to count your blessings. And then keep reading…because you never know if one day you’ll end up on the receiving end of this conversation. And take it from me, you just might be Mr. or Miss Right if you already know some of this information. You have no idea how much it means to us.

Now this advice comes from my own tried and true experiences. Again, I’m by no means an expert…but they’re things I figured out as I stumbled through…along with some solicited brotherly advice from the boys I was lucky enough to spend 1-2 years living with as part of my ACE community in DC. Their heartfelt responses to my freak-out “How do I handle this at dinner tonight??” emails made me realize that although I grew up with only a younger brother, I’m now lucky enough to have 4 “older” brothers. (Thank you, ACE.)

So here are my thoughts. Feel free to tweak as you see fit:

Now I know by this point some of you are probably a little frustrated and thinking “Oh great, another 20-something who thinks life is incomplete without a relationship”. Don’t worry, you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m just as frustrated by that overwhelming mentality as you are. Though I certainly want to share some advice about the quest for Mr. or Miss Right, I am a firm believer that you can only be as happy in a relationship as you are with yourself when you’re on your own. To paraphrase a favorite Pinterest quote of mine, I think the best thing you can do is love your life and make it your own. Keep doing that until you find someone who has their own life that they love. If you find that you both love each other and you can keep loving your lives together, that’s great. If not, just keep loving your life.

My favorite TV show of all time is probably Gilmore Girls. And arguably my favorite episode is entitled “I Am Kayak, Hear Me Roar”. In fact, it became a bit of a mantra among my friends at Villlanova during our senior year after we saw the episode. In order for it to make sense, do yourself a favor and watch http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyCfX7M7WtY  .

Now I must admit, I don’t canoe or kayak all that often so though I appreciate the analogy, I’ve adapted it over the years to something I use more often: a car. I am quite capable of driving a car, and have been doing so quite well now (if I do say so myself) for over a decade. The invention of GPS coupled with my trusty AAA membership has rendered me entirely self-sufficient behind the wheel and there is little that can stop me (unless I’m on 76 outside Philly in which case no one is going anywhere!) Give me a destination and I’m on my way. Or sometimes I don’t even need a destination…I just go. Now would it be nice to have a co-pilot in the passenger seat? Sure. IF it’s the right co-pilot.  Would I settle for just any partner settling into the passenger seat for good? I think not. Do I know exactly what that person looks like? Of course not, or I probably would have found him already. 

Like everyone, I have some ideas:

 I think he’ll be intelligent so we can engage in hours of scintillating conversation. (What good is a road trip companion if you can’t talk??) I think he’ll have a sense of humor…partially because he’ll need one to handle me, partially because I love to laugh. He’ll offer advice on directions, traffic, and possible detours…but will trust me to make my own decisions that I think are best. He’ll offer to take over at the wheel when I’m looking a bit tired, frustrated, or just hopelessly lost…but will understand if I refuse his offer because I need to carry on by myself for a little longer. He won’t complain when I see signs and spontaneously decide I just have to stop in the Blueberry Capital of the World, the Carousel Capital of the World, and the Home of the World’s Largest Coffee Pot (he’ll even smile at seeing my intense level of excitement over each one)…but he’ll also have the foresight and nerve to put his foot down and rein in my crazy when I try to stop at the Hubcap Capital of the World or the Home of America’s First Wavepool. He’ll stay calm in traffic and understand my need to arrive 10 minutes early to pretty much every destination. He’ll accept that no matter how far behind schedule we might be, if it’s a Sunday morning we’ll be “masstimes.org”-ing our way to a church. He’ll notice when I’m struggling to unscrew the cap on my water bottle with my one free hand and without making it a big deal, he’ll come to my aid. He’ll understand that sometimes we need to stop talking and sit in silence for awhile. (I do my best deep thinking when I’m driving after all) He’ll be willing to handle radio duty and appreciate my desire to switch back and forth between every genre under the sun. And most of all, he better be willing to belt it out once in awhile. Every good road trip inevitably calls for a sing-along (or several) somewhere along the way. If he can’t handle that, I have a feeling we’re bound for failure. 

Of course, I hope he also has a list of things he is expecting I might be for him. I’m a firm believer in 2-way streets. One-ways are just dangerous. Literally and metaphorically. I drove around DC long enough to learn that lesson well.

Will I ever find this wonderful, seemingly too-good-to-be-true co-pilot with whom to share my journey down this windy road trip we call life? I don’t know. Sure, I will be the first to admit that I certainly hope I do. But I also know that if I don’t, I’ll still take that same wonderful road trip and I’ll love it just as much. I have plenty of friends and family members who will accompany me in the passenger seat for different phases of the journey, rather than having the same person fill that chair. And don’t forget about those saints in street clothes I mentioned a few posts ago. The world is full of nearly 7 billion people, many of whom will cross your path just when you need them most. Or vice versa when they need you. (I also seriously considered religious life for a period of time…in which case I envisioned one of those “Jesus is my co-pilot” stickers in my future. Not actually on my car, but in my analogy…you get the idea)

Wherever you are on your own search for a co-pilot, just remember you are a completely self-sufficient driver. You always have been and you always will be.  So if you’re going to choose a lifetime passenger, make sure he or she really is YOUR Mr. or Miss Right. If the one you’ve been questioning isn’t it, don’t be afraid to be honest. I dread heartbreak as much as the next person…but I’d say a few weeks (or even months) of heartache is far better than locking yourself in the car with the wrong person for the rest of the road trip. Keep testing out co-pilots. Remember they have to be great on long trips, short trips, detours, traffic, and everything in between. Keep searching until you find Mr. or Miss “Right for You” (which by the way means they also have to choose you back). I’ll let you know if I ever find that person for me. Until then, I’ll be driving solo down the open road, loving my life, and keeping an eye out for potential passengers…and occasionally belting out my own solo ballad of course 🙂

In the meantime, if you know any great potential duet partners/co-pilots, feel free to send them my way. Just do me a favor and warn them about the Scope 🙂

If you’ve been living on the East Coast this week, you’ve been sweltering along with me. The combination of high temperatures and oppressive humidity made for those “I think I’ll take multiple showers”-type days. Until of course you realize that the showers are futile so they soon turn into “Why even bother to shower”-days. Granted, if Al Roker turns out to be trustworthy, there seems to be some relief on the horizon (at least in my neck of the woods). But still this week had me craving one thing: ice cream.

I had a fortunate childhood (for many reasons) but one is that although I grew up in a pretty small town, there was no shortage of ice cream shops. I can also tell you there were very few softball games, field hockey games, soccer games, and major springtime school events which weren’t followed by a big-group/team excursion to Big Star, Friendly’s, Sweet Creams, Gabel’s, Twirl Top, or one of another half-dozen mom-and-pop ice cream stands. (In fact we had one walking distance from our house for a few summers that resulted in my brother’s obsession of hoarding quarters. To this day, I remember the cost of a banana split there ($2.50) because of his relentless quest to accumulate 10 quarters.) Most kids had a hard time choosing a treat…and I’ll admit I dabbled from time to time…but for me it always came back to the basic treat: vanilla soft-serve with rainbow sprinkles (no, not jimmies) in a cup. At least until I discovered my obsession with waffle cones later in life. Yes, for me nothing said summer like that delicious vanilla treat dipped in granules of pure sugar.

Now fast forward 20 years. Here I am facing my first summer without dairy. I won’t lie to you: this week has had its rough moments. Gluten-free ice cream was still very manageable. In fact, my favorite selection was still safe in most locations…although I often provided my own sprinkles or just opted out of those. But take milk out of the equation? AND on top of that: no soy? Yep, you don’t have to tell me…things are not looking good. And yes, I know what you’re thinking: water ice, Katie! And sno-balls! You live in Baltimore for goodness sake, could you be any luckier?? (Those of you not familiar with the inner workings of Charm City: sno-balls are a staple summer treat here. When I say you can’t walk ½ a mile without running into another stand, I am not exaggerating) And yes, you would be right…until you factor in my corn situation. All those colorful icy, snowy treats have corn syrup in there, usually of the high-fructose variety, so as you can see I’m pretty much up the creek without a paddle at this point.

So I’m telling myself that I will feel so much better just by helping others who are not similarly stricken with the autoimmune trifecta (gluten, dairy, and soy) and the added bonus of corn that I won’t even feel sadness at my lack of a delicious soft-serve cone on this sweltering night (which a guest also just informed me is also National Ice Cream Day?? Who knew there was such a thing??) Yes I’m lying to myself and no the simple act of sharing knowledge with you will probably do little to assuage my craving for liquefied milk dipped in corn-syrupy goodness…but just go with it. Let a girl live in denial for a few minutes. And I promise there is a happy ending. Well, sort of.

So my gluten-free friends, you’re in luck! (I know, bet you don’t hear that much these days.) Gluten-free ice cream options are abundant and relatively easy to find. Obviously flavors like cookies and cream and cookie dough are out (if only combining gluten-filled items with ice cream magically erased the gluten) but there  are so many other choices, you won’t even miss those after awhile!

1) Dive right in at Dairy Queen: DQ is still the place to be. The link below shows you specifically which allergens could be found in each and every item. My only caveat is to ask the server to use a fresh scooper. You never know when they’re double-dipping between flavors. Just ask nicely and say it’s because of an allergy and they’ll most likely be happy to oblige.               http://www.dairyqueen.com/PageFiles/5144/US%20Treat%202013%20Q2.pdf

2) Proceed with Caution at Baskin Robbins:  BR is not quite as forthcoming with their allergen information. There is a link with a phone number but not a comprehensive list like DQ is kind enough to provide on their website. However, I will say I have been a frequent visitor of 2 different Baskin Robbins locations over the past 2 years and both had clearly labeled gluten free flavors on their case. http://www.baskinrobbins.com/content/baskinrobbins/en/faqs.html    So I still give BR 2 thumbs up. Again, just ask about the scooper. And obviously you’ll have to forego the cone.

3) Give ColdStone the Cold Shoulder: I know, that sounds harsh. And perhaps it is. I will say I give Coldstone an extraordinary amount of credit for their attention to allergen information. It is specific, readily available, and comprehensive. So kudos to you Coldstone!! And I really do mean that.

The problem is if you have severe sensitivity to any allergen behind that counter, you’re playing a dangerous game. You’ve seen the tricks of the trade there where flavor after flavor after topping after creation is mixed, beaten, and served on the same marble slab. There are tons of allergens lurking on that thing that a simple wipe certainly can’t eliminate…and even an intensive scrub would leave me nervous.  Only you can make that decision based on your own sensitivity. As for me,  I stay away. Although they do have pretty good tap water. I did have that once when the rest of my friends were paying a visit there 🙂

4) YJCGW- The Newest Yogurt acronym: Stands for YouJustCan’tGoWrong. That’s right…that new self-serve frozen yogurt phenomenon is great news for all you gluten-intolerant fro-yo lovers. And even you dairy-intolerant ones too. Soy-based yogurt…who knew?? These chains are all pretty forthcoming with their allergen info AND the best part?? You serve yourself SO you know for sure there’s no mixing of the scoopers. Well, that and there is no scooper. Of course there is a small (and I mean minute) chance of cross-contamination if the machine once contained a gluten-filled flavor and wasn’t adequately cleaned…but I have to say when I spoke to each company, they mentioned that and specifically detailed their cleaning procedures. Not to mention, this girl was a frequent fro-yo consumer last spring/summer and I never had a problem. So I have lots of confidence. You really can’t go wrong with any of these gems:

(Dairy-free but soy-filled friends, this is your new sweet spot)

Again, one caveat (I know you thought you were getting a free pass on this one): As hard as it is, do yourself a favor and pass on the toppings bar. The fruit was sliced on a cutting board you haven’t seen, the spoon in the cookie crumb topping is dangerously close to those gummy bears, those “but Katie, they’re M &Ms and I know those are safe” are often really “Candy-coated generic chocolate bought in bulk and not actually gluten-free”, and of course let’s be serious: you really think none of those spoons have been double-dipped by previous customers. Take it from me, they have. So either load up on the yogurt and forego the toppings OR bring your own in a baggie from home and add it on top. After you pay of course…otherwise you’re paying for weight of your own toppings you brought from home! And yes, I’ll admit that last piece of advice is based on real-world events. I was really overexcited about by GF cookie and brownie crumbs and may have overzealously added them to my cup before I made it to the scale. It’s like I tell the kids: mistakes happen…live and learn. And laugh.

5) What about my midnight cravings?? You’re in luck when it comes to those midnight ice cream cravings. There are plenty of safe options to keep stocked in your freezer at home. And yes, this time these are in order of preference. My own…you’re free to agree or disagree.

They also explicitly label gluten-free cartons. Not to mention, their headquarters is in Lancaster, PA. If you find yourself in that general area (well let’s be serious, if you plan a trip there…one doesn’t really inadvertently find their way to Lancaster), make sure to stop by for the Turkey Hill Experience. Just look for the GIANT (and I mean giant) sign with the cow and you’re on your way! And also, I really do love Lancaster. Plan a trip ASAP. I’ll meet you at the Farmer’s Market 🙂

And now the happy ending I promised you…drumroll please….

There is a “Katie-Safe” Ice Cream!!!!!

That’s right! My days of sulking in silence are over!! SO DELICIOUS…AKA my new favorite company in the world…has so many delicious, dairy-free, Katie-safe options that it almost makes my head spin. In fact I really did hug a Whole Foods employee when I stood in front of the SO DELICIOUS freezer. (Don’t worry, I asked permission as I stood with my arms in pre-hug stance. Even in my overexcited state, I never forget the lessons of the Appropriate Contact training we sat through before that first year of teaching…and I apply those lessons to all facets of life…6 hours of my life well-spent) If this is not the most extensive list of allergen information I’ve seen, I don’t know what is. AND they even have gluten-free cookie dough!!!! I know, I know. Take a minute, catch your breath. I’ve been there.  http://sodeliciousdairyfree.com/files/tm_phenylalanine.pdf

I have a delicious carton waiting for me in my freezer AND I use their coconut milk coffee creamer every single day. Usually more than once a day at this time of year. Iced coffee with no creamer is just not acceptable. Do yourself a favor: allergies or not, explore this site. Try some products. You can thank me later.  http://sodeliciousdairyfree.com/products

Now that I’ve overwhelmed you with information, go treat yourself. Apparently it’s still National Ice Cream Day for 2 more hours. Go dive into a delicious and safe treat. If you need me, I’ll be curled up on my couch with the treat that now defines my summer nights: SO DELICIOUS coconut milk chocolate ice cream 🙂

Though tomorrow (you know when National Ice Cream Day is over), please do me a favor. Go to Rita’s. I can’t eat there anymore so I’m counting on you to savor the experience for me. I still haven’t figured out how I’ll confront the first day of Spring next year without my free Rita’s. I’ve been known to have 4 in one day. I guess that gives me 8 months to develop my own non-corn-syrup-based ice flavorer. Challenge accepted…

I had planned to write a very informative post today. One full of websites to visit, products to try, and stores to consider. But then the week took a different turn and I decided that information could wait. Because as I sat down to write it, I realized there was something much heavier weighing on my mind…and my heart…and though that something can’t really be put into words, perhaps parts of it can.

I should start out by saying I LOVE words. I voraciously devour them in books, I enjoy using them (sometimes excessively) in conversation, I enjoy writing them…and those who know me are well aware of my Spelling Bee past. You don’t get that without a deep affinity for words. However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, and again in the past few days, it’s that sometimes words fall short of what you need them to be. And then what?

This week started off on a high-note: I was heading back to the hospital where I have spent more hours than I care to count or remember. Only this time I was going back, not as a patient, but as a part-time employee. (That’s right, you spend enough time at a medical complex, you might just get to work there!) As I made the all-too-familiar drive (I’m fairly certain there were moments when my body was fighting with itself that I made that trip solely on autopilot), my spirit was light and my heart was grateful. In fact, I decided to drive in early for my shift so I could make a stop at the hospital chapel. I had spent so much time there over the past few months, praying for answers, strength, and healing that it seemed only fitting I should go back on this day to offer a prayer of thanks. Even the greeters at the front desk (with whom I’ve become well-acquainted) shared in my excitement. I believe the quote was, “It is so wonderful to see you in a name badge and not branded with one of those green bracelets” (the defining characteristic of patients at this particular hospital). I spent some time in the chapel and headed off to my shift.

Now, I guess one thing I didn’t expect about being around people who are deep in the midst of their medical struggles is that I wouldn’t always know what to say. Here I was coming off of my own health journey, and even prior to my own, my family has been no stranger to hospitals to say the least, so I guess some part of me thought I would be able to offer some words of hope and encouragement to these people. And then I showed a man to his room and left him with the words, “And if you need anything at all, just let me know!”…and immediately I went back in time about 3 months. How many times had I heard those words…and known them to be true…but not known what it was that I needed? I remembered sitting on a bench outside the doctor’s office one spring afternoon staring down at my phone. I must have over 100 contacts, any one of whom  I knew would pick up right away (or call back at their earliest convenience) and would most likely drop everything to do whatever I asked. The problem was I didn’t know what to ask. I didn’t need a ride this time, I had no news to share, I didn’t need a class covered, or to cancel any plans. I didn’t even need to talk…I just needed something that couldn’t be expressed in words. And now I watched this man struggle with the same. He sat in a chair, glancing back and forth between his phone on the table, the news stories scrolling across the TV, and the birds outside the window. He sat there for quite some time before I went into the same room to make myself a cup of coffee. I noticed him watching me so I smiled and asked him if he wanted one too. He seemed startled at first but then nodded so moments later we were sitting in the great room with our cups of coffee as the news scrolled tidbits of courtroom cases, heat warnings, and of course the latest Royal-baby update (or lack thereof). We didn’t speak, we just sat and sipped. There were so many words I could have said to him, “I’m sorry that you’re dealing with this”, “I’ll keep you in my prayers”, “I know you’ll get through this”, etc. and though all those sentiments were true, in this moment words could never be sufficient. Instead, my love and concern for this man was best expressed through a simple cup of coffee, an understanding smile, and a fresh set of towels.

It was in that moment I again remembered how many moments like this I’d had of my own. Family and friends who came to spend time with me when I resembled more of a lifeless blob than my typically overexcited self (or probably even worse, when I was in somewhat of a medicated fog). There were so many words they could have spoken but instead I felt their love and found comfort in those little moments they spent with me: stopping in with my favorite lemonade, dropping off “safe” (at-least-we-thought-at-the-time) treats, delivering important forms and textbooks, printing out worksheets and sub plans, going for a walk, filing tax returns, watching old TV show reruns, “pinteresting” for more hours than is probably healthy, even cleaning my counters…and so many others. These actions spoke volumes at a time when I was feeling lost but didn’t have a clue what I needed (other than perhaps a real-life House, M.D.). Granted, I’m sure some words were spoken during each of those encounters, but what remained unspoken was decibels louder: I wasn’t alone, life was still going on, and if I ever figured out what I needed, there would be plenty of people to ask.

I came home from that shift only to learn that many people in my life are dealing with these same emotions this week. When tragedy strikes, words suddenly seem inadequate. We don’t know what to ask for, we don’t know what to say. Words of comfort seem trite and we’re left with so many questions we can’t quite formulate…and certainly no one can answer. We live in a world where silence has become rare. When you pick up the phone to call someone, it’s usually expected that there is a purpose for your call. When you make plans to see someone, there is almost always a particular purpose or reason. But what about those moments when you don’t have a particular purpose, topic of conversation, or question to pose? You just want to know that you are not alone. You want to spend time talking to someone about nothing…or everything as the case may be. You just want a genuine “I don’t have any words but this is me caring about you in this moment” bear hug. Or maybe you want nothing at all. Just to sit. And sip coffee. Knowing that even in this moment as you feel frozen in time, watching the obscure news stories of the day scroll by, that you are not alone and that you are loved. 

No one can tell us what tomorrow will bring….and none of us are guaranteed that tomorrow. So take some time today. In the words of my favorite St. Joe’s friend, Miss Irene, “Miss Katie, the problem with people today is they’re so busy they forget to love one another. Anyone who is lucky enough to walk out of this place at the end of a day should be out there laughing, and smiling, and just loving people. Goodness knows no one sitting where I am is thinking ‘Hmm…I think I showed too much love in my life. Miss Katie, go out there and love some people for me.”

Now you’ve heard the woman too: Go out there and love some people today. And don’t just tell them. Show them. In fact, you might be better off skipping the words all together. Spend some time with someone. Share iced coffee or lemonade. Sit in silence, go for a walk, give someone a bear hug. Or if you’re one of those people who is feeling a bit lost today: pick up the phone. Call someone on your contact list. It’s OK to say I don’t know what I need but I just want to sit. Or walk. Or watch bad tv reruns. If all else fails, email me…I’m good at any of those options 🙂

I read once that there are about a million words in the dictionary but that doesn’t mean there are enough to articulate what you need. That doesn’t matter… because sometimes words just aren’t enough. But love? Love always is…

I realize if you’re really going to trust me to be your faithful companion on this allergy-free journey, you probably want to know a little bit more about me. So we’ll start with 2 character traits which I’m sure anyone who knows me will readily attest are true:

1) I get absurdly excited about the littlest things in life. Not to say I don’t get absurdly excited about the big things too…but really why do we overlook the little joys in life?? (You know, last day of taking your antibiotic, last run before retiring a pair of running shoes,  first peppermint mocha of the holiday season…all things to be celebrated!) I don’t care that people often make fun of me for it…it’s who I am. And I think the world would be a much happier place if more people hopped aboard my celebration train.  In fact, I once had a plan to start my own line of greeting cards to celebrate obscure events so my friends and I spent much of the spring semester one year at Villanova compiling a list of obscure events we thought there should be cards for (everything from “Yay!! You’re Class Commencement speaker!” to “Enjoy playing the Last 8 PM Mass of Your College Career!”) Unfortunately, I think ecards have pretty much filled that need and saturated my target market (see, I really was a business major once upon a time) so I’ve abandoned the plan for my greeting card line. I’ll just make ads for my bakery encouraging the celebration of such life events with an allergy-free treat 🙂

2) I have a gift for dates. Now I know what you’re thinking: wow, Katie way to kick yourself up a few notches on the conceited chart. Before you jump to conclusions, I’m not talking about the usually awkward yet so entertaining encounters between two people getting acquainted (it’s ok to admit it: you secretly enjoy when the hostess seats you near the people who are clearly on a first date…it’s like a soap opera you just can’t stop watching. And yes, it’s even more entertaining when food allergies play into the dating scene. Those of you waiting with bated breath for that post, I promise it’s coming…you won’t be disappointed.)  I’m also not talking about that overgrown-raisin-looking fruit (though they are delicious too). I’m talking about calendar dates. While most kids spend December 26^th playing with their favorite new Christmas toy, I always spent it filling in a year’s worth of birthdays and holidays on the new calendar Santa was always kind enough to deliver each year. I was also that kid who loved to stare at the cupcakes, party hats, or whatever creative birthday chart my teachers came up with each year and to this day, I can still tell you the birthday of almost every elementary school classmate of mine…even without facebook to remind me. I don’t know why dates stick in my mind but that’s always been the case. Which of course is convenient considering I love to celebrate obscure occasions and holidays.

Although I think it’s ALWAYS important to celebrate the little things in life, I believe this is especially true when you’re facing a challenge: i.e. adapting to a new diet. Mark off dates on your calendar, celebrate mini-milestones. Embrace your inner-middle-school self (perhaps you don’t remember middle school but I get to witness it everyday: Happy 2-Week Anniversary, 3-Week Anniversary, etc…see, I knew it would come back to you 🙂 ) and celebrate like crazy. One-month allergen-free, 3 months without an ER visit, 1 month free of labwork…all occasions worth celebrating if you ask me!

Now of course, celebrating is a bit more challenging now because you can’t just grab a donut, cookie, cupcake, etc. from any old bakery. (Well, at least until I find capital investors for mine!) Again, have no fear: that’s why I’m here! I have some ideas for you…and then a recipe in case all else fails.

http://www.icanhavethat.com/:This is ingenious. And actually it’s really more of those of you without allergies but who have allergy friends. These baskets make the PERFECT gift! Safe, delicious, and a rare treat for those of us who can’t eat a lot of things in typical gift baskets.

I know these posts usually take a more humorous approach but you knew the inevitable serious post was on its way. Well here it is…because when all is said and done, adapting to a new way of life, whether food-related or otherwise, is hard. You can do your best to face every minute of every day with a smile, a joke, and an optimistic outlook. But the reality is, every once in a while, it gets to be too much…even for the most optimistic of the bunch. You get frustrated. You get angry. You get sad. You feel utterly and completely alone. Of course you do because one of those seemingly unfair realities of our finite human condition is that even the greatest support systems, family, friends, co-workers, etc., are inherently limited. If you’re jetting off on a plane somewhere, security is the limit for your entourage.  Even little kindergarteners on the first day of school can only bring Mom and Dad so far before they’re stopped and the obligatory tear-filled hugs begin (and yes, I’ve seen it enough times now to attest the parents in tears usually far outnumber the kids). And of course, this holds true in the medical world as well. Family members are only allowed to a certain point, and sometimes even the nurse has to leave (radiation you know) and it’s just you laying on a cold table while a really loud machine scans away for something you don’t even really understand. I do have to say, as difficult as those moments of solitude can be, they also allow you to become stronger and more self-aware…discovering what it is that motivates you and sustains you in those instances of pure vulnerability. For me the answer to that question is an easy one: faith.

Faith has always been an important part of my life and that became even more true during my two years teaching in one of the not-so-nice neighborhoods in our nation’s capital. I could not be more serious when I tell you I would not have made it through those 2 years without prayer and my what-became-almost-daily visits to 5:15 PM mass at the Basilica near our community house. Then when my school closed and I found myself sick in a new city where I really only knew one person well enough to rely on, I know I wouldn’t have been able to face doctor appointment after test after doctor appointment after test without my trusty rosary by my side. I even bought a new strictly yarn and wood one so they’d let me bring it into CT scans and MRI rooms.

By another stoke of what I consider to be providence, I found myself well enough in the midst of that “summer of sickness” to make the trip to Philadelphia for a 2-day young adult retreat hosted by the Jesuits. It was a rejuvenating 2 days for me…and it even involved a special surprise: Fr. James Martin (a Philly native) joined us for the whole retreat. I even got to share breakfast with Fr. Jim one morning and talk with him about one of this books that had become a staple in my life during my 2 years in ACE, My Life with the Saints. If you haven’t read it, do yourself a favor. Pick up a copy. (http://www.amazon.com/My-Life-Saints-James-Martin/dp/0829426442/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1373391758&sr=8-1&keywords=my+life+with+the+saints)  Or you can borrow mine…but I want it back, Fr. Jim wrote me a special note in it  🙂

My note from Fr. Jim 🙂

When I headed back to Baltimore that Sunday, geared up for another week of tests and frustration, I had a new source of comfort. The saints. I always relied on my rosary because as a product of 15 years of schools devoted to Our Lady (that’s right K-12 and 2 years of grad school at schools called Notre Dame), Mary has always been an important figure for me. However, after re-reading Fr. Jim’s book for probably the 15^th time, I suddenly turned to other saints for intercession too. On the days I was feeling the effects of my what at the time was a “mystery illness”, I prayed for the intercession of St. Therese of Lisieux. On the days I was feeling humbled by my shortcomings, I prayed through St. Francis. When I was feeling hopeless, I turned to St. Jude. When I was feeling lost, I turned to St. Anthony. And when I needed a laugh, St. Philip Neri was my guy (someone has to be the clown of the bunch!). As the summer wore on, my trusty rosary and my friends, the saints, helped me get through with as much optimism as one could.

Of course, I also realized that there are modern-day saints in your life everyday…you know, those people who just seem to be the face of Christ at work in your life.  Those blessings that seem to appear when you need them most and yet you don’t feel quite deserving.  One of those blessings for me that summer was a good friend who we’ll call the Saint in a Bow Tie. We had spent 2 years living and working in DC together and shared some of the highest highs and lowest lows which it seems every service experience entails. And since in our new city, he was the one person I knew well enough to rely on, he accompanied me to the tests that scared me, listened as I vented my frustrations, even tried to cook for me when I was too sick to do it myself. If that’s not the face of Christ in action, I don’t know what is.  Once I humbled myself to accept his help of course. There was another good friend (we’ll call her the Saint in the Sundress) who used one of her vacation days at her job in DC just so she could come be by my side for a Gilmore Girls marathon while we waited for my endoscopy procedure. Christ again I’d say.

Now given all the above, you can tell my faith is important to me. Well, enter late July. I finally had a cause for all my maladies: gluten. I was finally mastering which foods I could and could not eat, cleaned out my cabinets, etc. and went back into see a nutritionist to figure out why I was still having reactions at least once a week. I happened to be wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with my school’s name and she took notice as I was about to leave. Here is the conversation which ensued:

This was a moment I don’t think I’ll ever forget. Suddenly that sick feeling I kept getting each week made sense. I know it sounds crazy since the word bread is probably used during mass at least 5 times but I had never put it together. The Eucharist, though transformed during mass, contains wheat. And by Canon law, it has to. That was the moment my world literally came crashing down. I remember walking out of the hospital that day feeling numb. You know that feeling when your world has just turned upside down and you can’t figure out how everyone else is just going on with their day as usual? I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal for a lot of people. But for me it was. The one thing which was at the core of who I was that no one could take away was my faith. And no, this wasn’t taking away my faith in the slightest. But it was taking away my ability to participate fully. To receive what is considered to be the summit of our faith. The Eucharist had sustained me through so many trials in life…and suddenly that lesson we taught the 2^nd graders during communion preparation about how just as our bodies wither without food, so our spirits wither without receiving Christ in the Eucharist replayed in my mind. And now, when I needed the gift of the Eucharist more than ever, I was facing the reality of a future without it.

As you can imagine, I was probably overreacting. Slightly. I got home and did a little research and found out that in fact, there are low-gluten communion hosts which have been approved for use in the Catholic Church by the USCCB. God bless those Benedictine Sisters who worked for years on perfecting a host which contains enough wheat to satisfy Canon Law but also a minimal enough amount that most people don’t get sick. So I ordered some and started what proved to be even more challenging: finding priests and a parish which could understand my new needs. As a relatively new Baltimore resident, I didn’t have an established relationship yet with the parish I often attended on Sundays. Over the next few weeks, I visited several different churches…and each week left in near-tears. There were priests who just seemed frustrated by my request, there were times my host was forgotten on the credence table, and thus never consecrated. There were times when I had to stand up and receive communion first while the entire church sat and stared…and then later questioned. (Granted, this was before I owned my intolerance…remember that whole accepting you’re a little high maintenance thing? Yeah, I was nowhere near that yet) Let’s just say I was in a dark place. Even a tear-filled conversation on a curb with the Saint in the Bow Tie wasn’t enough to comfort me.

Then mid-August arrived…and in walked my Saint in Shorts and a T-Shirt. He was a good friend whose summer job had taken him away since early June. He knew I had been sick but had missed out on the bulk of the details. So on the August morning of his return, we met up for an activity I was finally feeling well enough to restart: running. Granted, it started pouring soon after we met, but still we ran on. As we ran, I filled him in on the sordid details of the summer. I explained test after test after hospital visit after test. But it was when I told him about the latest saga with the communion hosts that I fell apart. Now I should point out, the Saint in Shorts and a T-Shirt isn’t Catholic, but he is Christian and he shares a similar commitment to his faith and understood my feelings regarding the Eucharist. After he dropped me off at home that day, he took it upon himself to visit a local Catholic chapel. He spoke to someone he knew there, found someone else with my same predicament, and called to tell me that on Sunday he was picking me up and taking me to mass and that everything was going to be fine. Sure enough, that Sunday I arrived at mass and was greeted by a smiling face who knew exactly what I needed and told me to just come up in the regular communion line and he would make sure to find me and take care of me. And he did. And for several weeks afterward, the Saint in Shorts and a T-Shirt (although I guess he can also be the Saint in a Button-Down so you don’t think he went to mass in running clothes every week) accompanied me to mass until I had regained my spirit of optimism…and came to own my intolerance. He also contacted the woman at the low-gluten altar bread monastery for me. (If you need her: http://www.altarbreadsbspa.com/altarbreads/) Again, if that’s not Christ at work in my life, I don’t know what is.

Granted, I now don’t care if I have to be a spectacle during mass…and there are still times that my host gets lost or confused or just doesn’t happen and I’m fine with it…but I truly believe that the Saint in Shorts and a T-Shirt was the face of Christ for me in a time when I so desperately needed it. Do I still get bitter from time to time that I have to be 10 minutes early for mass if I want to have a host and that I have to remember to bring my own if I’m not at my home parish? Sure. But then I remember that the words bitter and Eucharist just don’t belong in the same train of thought and I get over it.

So I guess this is my long-winded way of saying you’re going to have bad days. Or even weeks. But if you look carefully, I guarantee there are people in your life who have been placed there to help you. Sometimes you just have to humble yourself to accept it. Other times you might be the person someone needs in his or her life. Be the face of Christ for someone else. Accept help from someone who is trying to be the face of Christ for you.  Isn’t that why we’re all here anyway, to be there for another? Whether it’s a food allergy or something far worse.

Regardless of what your faith is, be on the lookout for those everyday heroes in your life. And try to be one. I just prefer to call them Saints. In Street Clothes.

I told you I was forgetting some pitfalls. Thanks to some emails with follow-up questions, I realized I forgot one of the most important ones (well, for the ladies out there anyway):

g) Nail Polish/Manicures: As a lifelong violinist, I can count on one hand the number of manicures I’ve ever had. (Well actually, I can count it on one finger.) Short fingernails are key if you want to hit the right notes. Not to mention, my orchestra director frowned upon anyone’s fingers standing out during a performance…so I spent my teenage and high school years manicure-free and relatively nail-polish-free. I branched out into the nail polish world during my college years but still no manicures since I was playing violin 2 nights a week. Fast forward a few years. My gluten-free life had just begun and I was getting ready to be a bridesmaid in my friend’s wedding. Some of our friends were heading to the salon in preparation for the big weekend and for once I didn’t have any violin-playing responsibilities on the horizon…so I figured why not? Well, much to my dismay, I was feeling ill each time I ate for the next 24 hours before I put it all together. That pungent smell of newly manicured nails hit my nose as I was snacking on a handful of almonds…and that sinking feeling hit me in the gut. I ran to the internet. Sure enough, not all nail polish is gluten free!! And certainly not all those fancy lotions they use to make your hands oh-so-soft.  So before you make the same mistake and contaminate every single thing you touch(literally), here are some safe brands to consider before you beautify those nails:

As for the manicure itself, honestly I’d suggest skipping it. I mean you can bring all your own lotions and color, etc. but at that point why pay someone to do it for you? Just have your friends over and do it yourself! If everyone is heading to the spa, treat yourself to a pedicure if you really need to unwind…the chances of your toenails contaminating anything are minute. At least I hope so…

When you’re diagnosed with a food allergy/intolerance, you usually walk out of the office with photocopied list of Dos and DON’Ts for your new diet, an appointment with a nutritionist, and approximately 317,489 unanswered questions floating around in your brain.  You get home, walk into your kitchen and take a glance at the back of your favorite comfort food: potatoes (check!), salt (check), cottonseed oil…problem. It’s not on the DO list or the DON’T list! Now what?? Ah yes, if only it were as simple as a DO list and a DON’T list.

As far as food goes, here is my advice:

Pretty much everywhere I went today, I heard the same refrain, “Enjoy the long weekend”, “Have a great holiday”, or some other line expressing the same sentiment.  Yes, tomorrow is a holiday (at least here in the great U.S. of A) and that means fireworks, days away from the office, and of course: cookouts. For some reason, holidays in our society have becoming increasingly focused on two things: food and commercialism. I guess one could argue that these are 2 sides of the same coin. Regardless, there’s nothing easy about your first holiday on a restricted diet.

Before I continue, there is something you should know about me: I LOVE traditions. So much so that it became a family joke growing up. I’m a person who likes familiarity and routines. To me, each holiday had specific actions, rituals, smells, sounds, sights, and yes foods. Without these, it just wouldn’t be the same. Well, imagine my surprise when Christmas rolled around and I learned candy canes were no longer an option, when Valentine’s Day came and 90% of my “To Miss Burke, Love Your #1 Student” treats (apparently I had 20 #1 students that year) ended up in my friends’ kitchens, and of course that dark day when October arrived and I learned that my relationship with candy corn was over. Honestly, I can handle a lot but that was just too much. You’re talking to the girl who used to stock up the day after Halloween. I’ve been known to have bags left in March. I wish I were kidding…

 

Now I have yet to confront my first Easter without chocolate (well I guess technically I did this year but I don’t think it counts since I was sitting in Urgent Care with hives)…so prayers will certainly be appreciated come next April 🙂 The point is holidays will be hard for the first year because there will inevitably be something else that you can’t have anymore which never crossed your mind. The good news: this is the perfect opportunity to start new traditions…and to focus on other aspects of holidays that you may have overlooked before!

Bake for about 10 minutes at 350 degrees. Pure delciousness. Just make sure to warn anyone that has a nut allergy since it’s ALMOND flour 🙂