There are a lot of things I can no longer eat. I'm in good company, apparently, and I've heard enough horror stories that I'm not going to complain that I can't eat wheat, dairy, or soy when other people--some in my family--can't eat tree nuts, sesame, sunflowers (!), or oats (!!). These allergies were almost unheard of a generation ago, and as a chemo nurse told me that in her experience cancer was 90+% environmental, I feel pretty good that the same can be said for allergies and food sensitivities. (No, this does not mean that I think Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. was a good pick for Health and Human Services.)
It has taken a long time, but for the most part I don't crave the foods I used to be able to eat. A lot of us--A LOT--are used to what my daughter and I jokingly called "delicious regret": you know you're going to feel awful later, but it tastes so good in the moment, you're willing to suffer through it. My dear readers, this isn't the stupidest thing in the world if we're talking about a stomach ache, but not exactly the smartest. Gas and stomach upset are not our friends, but most of us have lived through it. But it is a really, really stupid philosophy to embrace when you experience hives, especially around your mouth, a closed throat, or, in my case, closed sinuses. Please believe me when I tell you that while dim sum rice noodles bathed in sweetened soy sauce used to be my idea of heaven, now the thought of it makes my stomach cramp up. There is no taste in the world that makes not being able to breathe later tolerable. By the same token, when I know that eating wheat is going to give me digestive difficulties for five days afterward, vegetable tempura is not going to be remotely tempting.
There are many foods that I can now walk away from--Cheese? Yogurt? Bread? No, thank you--but there are still a few that I remember fondly enough that I do still seek out their substitutes. Vegan ice cream is a big one, in large part because it is so readily available, at least near me. I have eaten more than my fair share, but for the last six months I have been left with a profound emptiness when I'm done. I can't explain it, but that is exactly how I feel. I have eaten nothing but chemicals reorganized to resemble frozen dairy, and, perhaps, I'm so aware of it that I feel as empty as what I have eaten. It's not a hole in my gut, but in my chest.
I admit, too, that I feel a great deal of envy when I see my family eating something like pot pie. Oh, how I used to love vegetable pot pie, back in those halcyon days when I was just a vegan but could still eat wheat. It is the marriage of texture and flavor that is difficult to get to with whole grains and stew. (If I may, I think it is texture we miss more than flavor.) Seeing my son get a very large chicken pot pie this weekend (that will linger in the fridge until after Thanksgiving, I'm sure) inspired me to try my hand at a home made version with the stew that my husband made this weekend.
You will be happy to know that my vegan, gluten-free crust was more than credible. Yes, parts of it broke, but for the most part, it baked well. It also gave me that "bite" that I had been missing for so long...and then I remembered those other things I used to experience when eating pot pie, as well as shepherd's pie. Oh, that combination of vegetables and starch is really quite filling, uncomfortably so, in fact. I looked at my pie and started wondering how bad it would be if I put in soup or stew.
There's an argument that the way I eat now--you can check out the recipes section of nutritionfacts.org to get an idea--is lacking in the glamour and sex appeal that you find in a lot of cookbooks and blogs. It's very uncool, but then again, so am I. It is probably not the worst thing in the world for me if I eat banana or mango nice cream instead of the vegan substitutes, or if I top a stew with some whole grains. Yes, I have missed some things about old favorites, but I've forgotten how relieved my body was not to deal with some of the consequences.
A lack of regret is perhaps something we don't realize we benefit from, but maybe now is a good time to review all of the things you think you miss and ask yourself what you're really missing.
Deb in the City
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