Finding out I have an egg allergy was a serious whap upside the head. I'd been gluten-free for almost six years. And soy-free. I was so good, Dear Reader. I read my labels. I did my homework. I complied. Yet in spite of all my earnest efforts and focus and just plain stubbornness to get well, I was still dogged by weird symptoms that would play hide and seek. A sinus headache after a glass of wine (but only some wines- not every wine). Odd roving pain that was difficult to trace. Hives. You get the picture.
For a cookbook author who loves food- and eating- as much as the next person, it felt like I was dropped down a culinary rabbit hole. Nothing made sense. There was scant consistency. My head kept thinking: random contamination. But I knew in the still small voice of my private tiny girl heart hidden gluten was not the culprit. I was too careful a gluten-free cook. So I kept food diaries. I began to track every bite (are we having fun yet?). But it only teased me deeper down the ever slippery rabbit hole.
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For a cookbook author who loves food- and eating- as much as the next person, it felt like I was dropped down a culinary rabbit hole. Nothing made sense. There was scant consistency. My head kept thinking: random contamination. But I knew in the still small voice of my private tiny girl heart hidden gluten was not the culprit. I was too careful a gluten-free cook. So I kept food diaries. I began to track every bite (are we having fun yet?). But it only teased me deeper down the ever slippery rabbit hole.
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