For some people it is a single, definitive point in time - maybe the moment after the doctor tells you the results of a biopsy. For others it's more nebulous, a suspicion that leads into a half-hearted avoidance. Still sick, you go whole-hog.
I said goodbye to gluten with a piece of gnocchi. I carefully ordered my meal at Fid, made sure every morsel was free of the offending protein. I even asked about preparation practices and cross-contamination. But then my date's gnocchi arrived at the table and I just knew I was going to eat one. And I did. I ate just one. It was pillowy and toothsome at the same time. It had that mild nutty taste that is characteristic of wheat. The tomato sauce sung in my mouth. And that was it. I have never eaten gluten (intentionally) since.
I woke up the next morning totally committed to feeling better and avoiding gluten.
And that's where I want to begin. The morning after. You've decided that this protein is making you sick. It is hopeful and terrifying. Maybe you won't have searing pain in your tum-tum - yes, hooray, that would be great! But also, what the heck are you going to eat for breakfast?
This week I will be exploring the wonderful world of eating food in the morning. I have some big ambitions for this week: a survey of breakfast at the farmers market, a pancake mix taste test, and a homage to eggs. (My baby might railroad some of these plans, but not all of them. I hope.)
By the way, if this is your moment, right now, if you have, just now, started to rebuild your diet after being sick for months or maybe even years, let me tell you one thing I know to be true: even if it's a dry rice cake with butter, the morning after is better than the night before.
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