Because gluten-eating gluttons shouldn’t have all of the fun, I have transformed this season’s most outrageous county fair treat into a g-free ball of fun. Thanks to my sister-in-law’s boyfriend, I am now the proud owner of a “professional deep fryer” and what better way to break it in than making up a batch of deep fried Kool-Aid? Seriously, if you’ve got a better idea, please let me know, because I don’t believe it exists.
One of the most delightful parts of this experiment came in the simple act of making Kool-Aid. I haven’t had this stuff since I was a kid, and my own children have never experienced the joy of liquid, dyed, sugar running down their little gullets. How is it I’ve denied them this pleasure for so long? So I busted out my Mr. Kool-Aid pitcher, which I sent away for with proofs of purchase back in the 1980s, and almost threw out during my latest move. What the heck was I thinking? Behold the beauty: Continue reading


In addition to freezing my butt off, dining out was one of the biggest surprises of last week’s trip to San Francisco. Or rather, surprises that I should not have been surprised about AT ALL. Because everyone knows that a) SF is cold and foggy, and b) Those crazy hippies are way
Dining out has lost a bit of its gluten-y luster since my celiac diagnosis, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to still try my darnedest to get my eat on without having to pull out my special g-free flour mixture and making a mess of my kitchen. That gets old, and fast.
But now we all know the Central Park eatery (I use the term loosely) employed major douchebags, as a former executive banquet chef (does that mean he really only catered, not chef’d? ahem) Damian Cardone talks about how 
If you’ve been given the celiac disease diagnosis, you’ve most likely gotten your hands on 












