A good friend of mine sent me this NYT article entitled “Jury Is Still Out on Gluten, the Latest Dietary Villain” early this week, and ever since then, I’ve read or listened to similar threads on this debate.

(Can I just take one second to acknowledge the overall awesomeness of my friends, who always have rice crackers on hand for me, consider my dietary restrictions when thinking about restaurants, and have been known to show up with GF desserts? You’re celiac experts now, and I really appreciate it!!)

Obviously, there is little debate here for people who have confirmed celiac disease—if we want to reduce symptoms and stop damaging our bodies, we can’t eat any foods that contain gluten. It’s pretty much a non-negotiable.

Luckily, as I’ve mentioned before on this site, finding gluten-free foods and businesses and restaurants that understand celiac disease, is easier than ever before. When I go to PF Chang’s, it’s specifically because there is an entire menu for me to choose from and I don’t need to worry about cross-contamination. When I do my weekly shop at Whole Foods, it’s because I know that whatever my mood or craving, I can find something that is both gluten-free and healthy.

Of course, this increased awareness of celiac disease is also tied to the fact that mainstream society has latched onto the idea that gluten-free living is the way to go. It’s the latest trend, with people ditching office pizza and processed food for GF fare. People with symptoms that resemble those reported by celiac patients who test negative for the disease—they consider themselves as having a “subclinical gluten sensitivity,” according to the NYT article—say they feel better when they go GF anyway. Others report that symptoms of other autoimmune diseases like arthritis decrease once they go gluten-free.

The experts are still teasing out the connection between gluten and the types of success stories non-celiacs trumpet. I’m happy to leave that quagmire to them, but I do think it’s important to consider a very basic fact alluded to in this most recent article, one I’ve been championing for a couple of years now. What if part of the reason people who do not have celiac disease but feel better when they go GF has less to do with their physiological sensitivity to gluten and more to do with the fact that the GF diet is, on the whole, a lot healthier?

Think about all the “staple” foods that contain gluten—breads, pizza, pasta, etc. A huge amount of junk food, from fast food hamburgers or “chicken” nuggets to cookies and doughnuts and fried food, contain wheat or other grains with gluten. Is it all that surprising that if you swap out breads and fast food for salads, vegetables, and un-friend, un-sauced, unadulterated proteins you just might feel better?

Here’s the anecdotal evidence I can offer: two years ago, I convinced my diabetic and otherwise medically-challenged father to go GF for six weeks. I went over the list of “safe” foods, I taught him what to look for when reading labels, and I went grocery shopping with him to help him begin his new lifestyle. I should add here that his diet was fairly healthy to begin with since he’s a diabetic heart patient—lots of fish, veggies, etc, and when he ate starch like wheat bread, pita bread, or pasta, it was usually in moderation.

Within two days of going gluten-free, his body’s demand for daytime insulin dropped by 50 percent. Yes, you read that right, 50 percent. And what’s more, he sustained that decrease over the six weeks. It was a struggle to adjust and he did need a few days to get a handle on middle of the night blood sugar drops, but he lost some extra pounds, had more energy, and needed less insulin.

Does he have celiac disease? No. But did eliminating excess starch and processed food impact his health in a positive way? Absolutely.

Getting diagnosed with celiac disease has totally changed my approach towards selecting, preparing, and consuming food. Everything is fresh and, well, whole now. I make my own chicken stock, eschewing the salty, processed kinds. I make my soups and chilis from scratch, avoiding the gluten-y store-bought kinds that I can’t imagine eating ever again. I have fresh vegetables with every lunch and dinner, and I take it as a matter of pride that nothing in my kitchen has an ingredient list of more than, say, four or five items.

The jury may still be out on gluten and the masses, and maintaining a GF diet can certainly be challenging and frustrating, but when I wouldn’t trade my GF attitude towards healthy eating for anything.

It all started two weeks ago at my niece’s fourth birthday party.

It wasn’t so much the sight of the pony-shaped cake (I kid you not on that one, but it was certainly cheaper than purchasing an actual pony) with the creamy frosting as it was the smell of it—thickly sweet. After watching her blow out her candles, I returned to the other side of the room and tried to ignore all the pieces of cake being passed around the room.

The following weekend, I was buying coffee in an attempt to be alert for my Saturday morning fellowship meeting when the sugary aroma of the donuts on display in front of me stopped me in my tracks. That same night, I had salad with grilled mushrooms and chicken sausage for dinner—something that usually satiates me just fine—and I could barely eat it when I saw my husband spooning up the very same chicken sausage, except his was nestled in a deep bowl of macaroni and cheese.

Even when we met friends for sushi, a standby favorite when I remember to bring my gluten-free soy sauce, my maki paled in comparison to the pan-fried dumplings that accompanied our order. What was flying fish roe next to piping hot, garlicky dumplings?

The last straw came when we were watching a Food Network Challenge that involved baking cakes of celebration.

“Do you realize that as long as I live, I will never have a bite of real cake again?” I asked my husband.

He looked at me nonplussed; he’d gummed down the gluten-free layer of our otherwise normal (and, apparently decadent) wedding cake with me, so this definitely wasn’t news to him. The catering staff assumed we’d both want to eat from the same top tier we’d cut, so he got the gluten-free version of raspberries and cream. That’s love. (He also accidentally dropped some of said GF cake down into my strapless dress when we were cutting it, so I’d say we were even!)

“And I will never take a bite of a glazed donut or eat pan-fried dumplings or….” I continued to rattle off a list of sweet and salty carb-loaded goodness. (Let me interject with yes, I know there are plenty of GF options out there and I know they are quite declicous and worth the effort, but that’s the rational response, and I’m not talking reason here.)

The humorous aspect to this conversation is not simply that I had this epiphany a full three years after I was diagnosed with celiac disease. Seriously, isn’t it a bit late in the game for this?

No, what’s really kind of ridiculous is that these were not even things I ate “before.” I always turned down the box of Munchkins that went around the classroom, I was militant about my no-cake policy on my birthday since I was in middle school, and I always picked “steamed” over anything “pan-fried.” I ordered salad when friends got pizza, and the only other time I’ve had fast food since the late 1980s was when I was on a spelunking trip in Western Ireland and there were literally no other options.

I’m not exaggerating any of that. A lifetime on steroids and an ever-present diet will do that to you.

So yes, for two weeks now I have had intense, distracting cravings for things I didn’t even like all that much. It’s not that I miss them—I miss the idea of being able to choose them.

Does that sound incredibly silly?

Two nights ago, my husband almost gave in to lesser instincts and came close to ordering delivery pizza at 11pm. He went back and forth, ultimately deciding it would really be too gluttonous.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I will never have a piece of pizza from Domino’s as long as I live,” I said, half-joking, half being a jerk.

“Um, not really.”

It didn’t make me feel any better, either. It just made me sound bratty. That was the moment I snapped out of it a bit. I’ve since reconciled with my salad greens, my apples and red grapes, my grilled chicken and my brown rice, my rice crackers and gluteen-free tamari.

Mostly.

It’s been awhile since I’ve devoted space to the celiac dining experience (though I have been busy compiling new favorites for my gluten-friendly restaurant list!) Luckily, though, it seems others are taking care of that for me–today’s Sunday Globe ran a great article on gluten-free beer.

Now, I know GF beer has been around for awhile–I’ve even tried a few brands, despite being more of a cider girl myself–but what is important about this is that the beer, Redbridge, is prodcued by Anheuser-Busch. In other words, we’re mainstream! Gluten-free options for the millions of Americans living with celiac disease have come a long way since the dark days of even a decade ago, when no one had heard of the disease and grocery store shelves were lined only with forbidden foods. We’ve seen gluten-free pretzels and breads, gluten-free baking mixes and soy sauces, etc–it makes sense that to open up the gluten-free market to include alcohol. Cheers!

Garlic and Gluten-Free Guts

I just finished reading Ruth Reichl’s memoir, Garlic and Sapphires. The former New York Times restaurant critic’s sumptuous details and rich descriptions lured me in from the start, and I couldn’t help but think she had the best job around—and that no one in her position could ever be celiac.

I immediately decided I would one day add “four-star celiac food critic” to my list of professions. After all, I’d already become a natural at the art of mainstream fine dining, celiac style. I wasn’t about to let my condition scare me away from the champagne taste I somehow managed to keep up on my decidedly less sparkling budget.

When I first got diagnosed, I worried my dining out options would be permanently limited to plain grilled chicken and brown rice. I’d always been a healthy eater in that I avoided fried food, full-fat dairy, and starchy, processed carbs like white bread and sub rolls, but I was still an adventurous eater. The spicier the sauce or more exotic the marinade, the better.

Did this mean saying goodbye to piping hot Indian food, delicate Vietnamese soups, rich French sauces, authentic Italian entrees, and hearty Irish pub food forever?

So I did what any newly-diagnosed, slightly obsessive/compulsive celiac with a photographic memory would do—I immediately memorized the extensive list of “forbidden” foods I found online, learned how to scan ingredient lists in under 30 seconds, and road-tested the quickest route to Trader Joe’s I could find. I experimented with new recipes, and, most importantly, I learned from my mistakes.

Some people around me are still terrified to serve me food—eschewing a lifetime of tradition, my Italian grandmother won’t even cook for me, and my brothers still precede a visit of mine with several phone calls of the “what can you eat? Can you have X?” variety, but I am over it.

I’d always been the type of customer who hated to make a fuss—if my chicken was pink, I’d gingerly eat around the undercooked parts rather than send it back. If I got the wrong side, I’d pretend I genuinely liked brussell sprouts. But now that I knew I was celiac, I couldn’t be meek.

Preparation was the key to successfully dining out. When possible, I checked out menus online beforehand, making a shortlist of items I thought were “safe” so I could inquire about them. Sometimes I even called ahead to make sure accommodations could be made for me. I learned to be upfront from the beginning of the meal and wasn’t afraid to ask a lot of questions. When a waiter replied “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have any flour,” I wouldn’t order until he’d physically gone to check into it.

I am pleasantly surprised by how many kitchens and servers are familiar with celiac disease. It’s music to my ears when a waitress says, “Oh, you’re celiac? No problem. I’ll show you the four entrees I know are safe, and can talk to the chef if you’re interested in something else.” A few times, a chef has gone as far as personally marking the menu so I’d know all my options. I remember the places like that and talk them up to everyone I know, and like Ruth Reichl’s focus on good service for every customer, famous or not, I also remember the places that couldn’t be bothered to answer my questions.