Saturday, April 10, 2010
Tapioca Dog Buns
Dan has gone over to a wheat-free diet. Since he was a child, he has been told that he tested positive for wheat allergy but he never really did anything about it (his mother may be forgiven for giving up on attempting to make a special diet for him - he is a middle child of six, all born close together. He was lucky he had anything to eat!). Finally in solidarity with one of his brother's attempts to find a solution to a diet issue, he tried a wheat-free diet. Within three days, he was saying things like "I feel alive in my skin for the first time in my life!" and "it is like I am awake now", which I, with my unsurpassable insight, took to mean that not eating wheat was working out for him.
But a wheat-free diet isn't a bowl full of cherries. Well, it is a bowl full of cherries. It isn't a piece of cake. Yes, that's the metaphor I was searching for. Suddenly wheat was everywhere - just waiting to jump out and leap into his mouth. Lucy devised a chart and gave him a daily sticker for remaining wheat-free as extra incentive. He has been doing well with it, motivated by feeling good and, alternately, feeling horrible when he accidently ate something with wheat in it last weekend.
It has been about a month now and the verdict is in: not only is he healthier, he is happier and much nicer to be around.
We have been exploring the world of wheat- and gluten-free substitutes that are available (hence the title of this post...it isn't the name of my new band, sorry). Some are just appalling, such as nearly all the "bread" that is available. But we have found some quite lovely things too.
On Thursday morning, however, I was preparing a large batch of bread dough, full strength wheat-filled bread dough, for sesshin at the Temple this weekend. Dan looked longingly at the lovely ball of dough, gently rising on the table and said, "can I lick the bowl?"