Excuses, Excuses, Excuses. And a Teeny Bit of Education

Here is a Picture of a sleeping puppy to cheer you up if you're sick too.

So while Noelle was down and out with her host of illnesses (that girl has more plagues than the Bible!) I've been out of sorts myself with allergies. Or poisoning. Depending on how you want to look at it.

As you may have noticed, the hugest chunk of this blog has been devoted to gluten-free cooking, but we haven't really gotten into WHY we're so focused on gluten-free. Some people are familiar with Celiac Disease because they live with it, or someone who does. Other people have no idea what gluten even is, let alone what it has to do with Celiac Disease, and most people don't know that you can have a gluten allergy that will seriously fuck up your whole life, but NOT have Celiac disease. So here is a tidy bundle of information for you, with helpful links, and a little background on why we do this blog and why GF cooking is important to us.

GLUTEN: What even is that, and why is it in my food!?
Don't worry! It isn't as evil as it can sometimes sound. In fact, if you are not allergic to it, gluten is a wonderful thing. It is an all natural protein composite that is found in some grains, mainly Wheat, Barley, and Rye. What makes it great it is that it acts as a bonding agent. You know that doughy, chewy texture that artisan breads and pizza dough and soft pretzels have? That comes from gluten. The light, springy texture of rich, moist, cake? That's gluten too. Believe me, I am a HUGE fan of gluten.

Unfortunately, my body is not. And increasingly more people are finding that they have a similar problem. The most common illness associated with gluten is Celiac-spru, and it is a nasty, horrible thing.

CELIAC DISEASE: or Coeliac Disease, is a genetic autoimmune disease of the small intestine. People with Celiac can't digest gluten. When their bodies try, it triggers an antibiotic reaction that, in layman's terms, turns them against their own gut. The symptoms range through all sorts of abdominal pain and discomforts, but even worse, celiac prevents the body from absorbing nutrients from other foods, which can lead to malnutrition and all the associated symptoms of that.
GLUTEN-SENSITIVE ENTEROPATHY: Recently, some doctors are expanding the diagnosis of Celiac Disease to Gluten-sensitive enteropathy, sometimes simply Gluten Sensitivity, or Gluten Intolerance. See, there are some people who have the gene that makes their bodies hate gluten more than anything, but they don't have the classic abdominal symptoms associated with Celiac-spru. These individuals can go undiagnosed for most of their lifetime, and often have a host of seemingly unrelated illnesses and symptoms that can be misdiagnosed and mistreated. I personally dislike the term "gluten sensitive" for these people, as it makes it sound wimpy and whiny, like, "Oh! I'm sensitive to gluten! It makes me uncomfortable!" I feel that "gluten intolerant" is a MUCH better word, because when you have it, your body will not tolerate gluten, and it will turn against you in every conceivable way if you try and force it. I know this because I am gluten intolerant.

PERSONAL STORY TIME!
Alright, I'm going to try to do this with the barest minimum of complaining and self-pity. I was a difficult child. Extremely difficult. I cried constantly, had outrageously high levels of anxiety and a near pathological shyness from the ages of 2 to 13. I was prone to illness and migraines in particular.
When I hit puberty, the shyness and anxiety were more come and go, but new issues kept coming up. By the time I was 29, I had been to Psychiatrists, Psychologists, Neurologists, Endocrinologists, OBGYNs (about 8 or so) Nutritionists, Acupuncturists, and a variety of holistic healers. I had been institutionalized on mental health wards twice, enrolled in sleep studies, had CAT scans and MRIs and vials of blood drawn. At various points in my life had been diagnosed with or treated for Depression, Manic Depression, Narcolepsy, Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome, Keratoconus, and Insulin Resistance, and suspected of having (but could not be confirmed with) Autism, Borderline Personality Disorder, Schizophrenia, Hyperthyroidism, Hypothyroidism, Hashimoto's Disease, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Arthritis, Lymes Disease, Fibromyalgia and Type 2 Diabetes.

Over the years, in addition to migraines, I developed tons of weird symptoms that would come and go. Depression, Anxiety, sleep disorders (sometimes insomnia, up to 6 days awake, at other times overwhelming sleepiness, where I could not stay awake for more than a few hours at a time) nightmares, hallucinations, irregular periods, periods of extended, heavy bleeding, violent and erratic mood swings, manic periods, blackouts, extreme memory loss, inflammation of all my connective tissue, psychotic episodes, hirtsuism, anemia, and hypo-glycemia. I was overweight and couldn't loss it despite diets and exercise regimens. I was in chronic and sometimes debilitating pain. I was quite often mad as a march hair.  I was told repeatedly I could never have children.

I was prescribed depressants, anti-depressants, stimulants, anti-psychotics, vitamins, drugs to control my insulin, anti-anxiety medications, sleeping pills, stay-awake pills, and hormones.
Some things never worked. Some things worked for a little while, then stopped working. Some things worked, stopped working, then starting making me sicker, and some things had immediate and extreme adverse reactions.

I thought I might never get better. I coped with a lot of drinking, a lot of drugs, writing, and a fairly self-destructive lifestyle that I hoped would simultaneously distract me and put me out of my misery more quickly.

When I was 29, I got sick again. But this time, I got really sick. Too sick to function, sick. It was as if all of my body systems were shutting down, one after another. The physical pain was constant and horrible, and my mental acuity and stability deteriorated to such a point that I didn't feel like I ever had thoughts anymore, just overpowering surges of extreme and volatile emotions that I had no understanding of or control over. It was pretty much the worst. And then I got very, very, VERY lucky. My step-dad was having some issues of his own that led him to the office of Dr. Chris Caffery. When he told Dr. Chris about me, Dr. Chris suspected gluten allergy, and thought he could help, and that's how I came to Functional Neurology Associates.

The crazy details of my long, long road to recovery is another story for another day, but the long and the short of it is, Dr. Chris finally and correctly diagnosed me with gluten intolerance. He put me on a gluten-free diet, then put me through a long rehab program to undo nearly 30 years worth of damage from gluten poisoning, and taking the wrong psychiatric medications. It took a year.

Now, about a year and a half later, I have no symptoms of ANYTHING except keratoconus (a genetic degeneration of the corneas that is probably unrelated). As long as I don't eat gluten, I feel good, my moods are stable, my head is clear, I have no pain, no swelling, no mental episodes of any sort, and the extra weight I'm carrying is because of the baby girl I will give birth to in July.

So now you know why being gluten-free is something I'm sort of passionate about. I don't know if you can imagine it, but turning 30 and feeling better than you ever have in your whole life is quite an intoxicating head-trip, and I want to keep it going as long as possible.

It isn't always easy. Last week I was traveling for a job interview, which had me in a hotel for 3 days. When you can't cook for yourself, it really doesn't matter how careful you are. I, like a LOT of gluten intolerant people, am incredibly sensitive. Cross-contamination can occur with something as simple as kissing my husband after he's eaten some glutenous bread. Needless to say, I can go out and order a salad, but if the chef or the server has touched bread or flour and then touched my food without washing his hands, I'm going to get sick. It sounds crazy and extreme, but it can and does happen. I've been cross-contaminated more than once at "Celiac Friendly" restaurants, and the effects are nearly immediate and severe. About 20 minutes to an hour after I eat something contaminated, my chest gets tight and I get really, really hot. Then the pain comes in, followed by emotional collapse (either extreme anger or tears, always unprompted and uncontrollable.) After that, hallucinations and vomiting. The pain, hallucinating, abdominal distress and emotional yuckiness will last anywhere from 3 days to 2 weeks, depending, I guess, on how much I ingested, and is often accompanied by migraines.

And now you know where I've been for a while, when I should have been writing. So I hope you learned a lot, or at least a little bit.

WARNING:  I guess in closing I just wanted to throw something out there. As with every dietary movement, there are some doctors, mostly the sort that will appear on morning talk shows, and there are a lot of people who are frustrated with being sick, or having unresolved mental issues, and they want to attribute these things to a gluten allergy, and change their life and their diet and everything.
I know that frustration, and that need to try EVERYTHING. But Gluten Intolerance isn't like Fibromyalgia or IBS, or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, which have become catch-alls for any collection of undiagnosable symptoms.

There is a genetic test that you can take to verify whether or not you have gluten intolerance. Self-diagnosis is dangerous stuff, so if you feel like you might have a gluten allergy, talk to your doctor and get the test done before you make radical changes in your diet. The test is on the expensive side,  but I promise you, it is nowhere NEAR the expense of a gluten-free lifestyle.
A gluten-free diet has saved and improved my life, but it is not a cure-all for everything. It is an expensive and at times extremely difficult way to live, and will impact not only your life but the lives of everyone you eat with.
Holidays, family picnics, travel, nearly everything you do sort of hinges upon what you can and cannot eat. So before you put yourself and your loved ones through that, get that test and make sure you have to!

And if it so happens that you or anyone you know does have to make that switch, well, at least you have a friendly, happy blog full of delicious recipes to turn to. Isn't that a comfort?

The Thing About Plagues, or Weird things happen to Weird People

I have been horribly lax in writing, dear readers. I've been thinking about it, and just the other day, I logged in! But then I logged out. Logging in seemed enough at the time.

Also, I've been down with the plague. Some sort of plague.

I seem to always be on my way or recovering from some sort of exotic plague, but THIS IS THE LAST TIME. And I know I said that when I had strep throat and then caught scarlet fever, but everyone knows I was working through some prairie girl issues from my last lifetime, and now I'm done. Except I might try to bring bonnets back.

Anyways. Plaguing makes me think about how I am often in the middle of disastrous situations that start in a well-intentioned adventurous and optimistic spirit.

And THAT reminds me of a particular time and recipe.

Seriously. Don't.

When I was twenty, I was all about adventuring through seasonal jobs. My friend Ashley and I had concocted a plan that meant we would move, sight unseen, to the Delaware shore for a beachy tourist job. Only, Ashley went one week ahead of me, and when I showed up later, she explained that the people we were supposed to be working for were CrazyPants. Not to be deterred, we left Dela-ware?! (you have to say it like that) and drove along the coast until we ended up in Virginia Beach. And we decided that we would get jobs there, and in a day, we did!

Because my life is incapable of normalcy, the jobs we got were at a old-timey photo booth, where on our first day, we were told we could wear either the company terrible-neon-fluorescent monogrammed tshirt OR costumes. So I spent my days dressed as a saloon girl and French maid and a Southern Belle. Going with the general plague theme, I passed out in a corset my first week. Ladies back in the old days had it tough and I love cotton undershirts with a new fervor.

Ashley and I moved into a lovely house equipped with some bunk beds, and acquired an even lovelier Rose of England roommate. A few weeks later, we gained, as if by magic, 8 Russian roommates, 3 Slovakian roommates, and 2 more roommates in the form of an Irish couple. This was in a teeny tiny 3 bedroom beach cottage. The bunk beds were not enough. There was one bathroom, and the shower was always clogged with sand, probably because I may be mis-estimating the number of Russian roommates. Some of them had been sleeping on the beach, and instead moved unofficially onto our living room floor. And who am I to kick out young adventurers who want to work crappy jobs all summer with me?

We were incredibly poor (sluttin' it up in old timey costumes surprisingly does not pay well), and everybody ate everyone else's food in the fridge so it was ridiculous to try to store food.

Surprisingly though, we had plenty of those beautiful gypsy moments where somehow everybody manages to feed everyone else in a stone soup fashion.

And the Slovakian roommates in particular gave me the recipe to a delicious soup I am still intensely fond of. It reminds me of grammas and home and rocking chairs and snowy afternoons.

Stone Soup, Hold the Stone.

2 chicken breasts, or the equivalent amount of chicken in the form you desire
1 head of cabbage, sliced
1 head of broccoli, sliced (sliced, you say!? Yes. Sliced.)
*a bunch of carrots, sliced (there's a theme here)
1 large onion, sliced (yellow is my preference, white still works. purple tastes weird.)
Salt & Pepper to taste

*Now, up until a couple weeks ago, I would recommend buying and chopping up baby carrots, because they're pre-washed and the gross parts are shaved off! But then I started reading (reading IS dangerous), and found out this: Baby Carrots Turned Out To Be Evil This information breaks my lazy heart a little bit.

In a pot, cook the chicken until it is cooked through (about 20 minutes). Poke it with a fork to check 'n' see. Then pull the chicken out of the pot and set aside.


Throw in the onions and carrots into your new chicken stock water, let cook for 10 minutes.


Add cabbage, cook 3 more minutes.


Add broccoli, cook for 3 more minutes.


While you are waiting, slice up that chicken, then throw that back in the pot.



That's it. Seriously. This is the easiest soup in the world, making it perfect if you are cooking for your own plague-ridden self.

Although sometimes, the Slovakians threw in a tablespoon-sized blob of mayonnaise as they were spooning out servings. That sounds like the grossest thing in the world, and kind of is, EXCEPT - it gives the soup a richer & saltier texture, and you don't notice when it's stirred up. ...but it still grosses me out visually, so I skip it. It's great when you don't feel well. You get your veggies and protein and liquids and it doesn't take much brain power. Unlike the finagling out of that particular seasonal job situation Ashley & I found ourselves in, which included adventures in legally avoiding rooming house situations, accidentally acquiring 2 Belarusian roommates (this was later), exploring New Age labyrinths, and acquiring diner pie at 3 am. There's just too much to cover over a bowl of soup, even with mayonnaise to stretch it out.