It’s a Tuesday night and the usual is happening. Kids are in bed, we’re previewing our DVR to see what we have to look forward to and getting ready to chow the hell down. Tonight it’s a homemade chicken masala with rice (hold the naan). I did decide to bake up some Brazi bites to go with our dinner, hoping it would make the naan-less Indian food somehow better. It did! For me. O.M.G. I love Brazi bites.
I would actually not know about whether or not my husband felt satisfied with the gluten-free version, because dude rarely complains about the diet that most of the household maintains. Also, I cook a heck of a lot more so naturally I’m not making gluten up in here. That’s just silly. But just last week my husband did actually have an issue, and it was 100% my fault. Or maybe 90%, 10% genetics. Or perhaps 60% me, 20% genetics, 10% processed wheat. Or maybe it was 90% processed wheat and 10% me. Oh, who am I kidding. It was totally me.
After three years of living with gluten-free me, my husband can’t really digest the gluten so well. We were out of town last week and dining it up and sure, he availed himself of the bread basket whenevs. No judgment from me. Hey, it’s not my kitchen and I say load up and party when you can, my friend. Then we got back to the hotel, and . . . not so much.
So yeah, I feel pretty bad. Not as bad as I do for me who really, really, really can’t ever gluten, but still BAD. If this man had not been enjoying the gluten-free life (or pretending to, because, come on) he would most likely still be munching away on breadsticks happy as a clam. Well, not a clam, because he’s kind of got a shellfish thing.
What I’m trying to say is, WEIRD. I know that I react much strongly now if I get cross-contaminated than I did before I cut gluten out of my diet and ate it every damn day. I mean, it’s brutal if I get gluten’d now and when I was shoving it up in my mouth I might have at least one day where I wasn’t on the pot 18 out of the 24 hours. I’m more sensitive now to gluten, it seems, and so is he. Bummer.
I owe that guy. I owe him.
Has this ever happened to you?
Oh, and here’s how to make that yummy winter dish!