Haymarket

I just spent the last ten minutes scraping gluten-free french bread dough from in between my fingers and from the cracks in my signet where the antiquing would have been.  The would-be loaf is sitting on top of the stove taking its sweet time rising, so I thought I'd write. 

Let me put the bread in the oven.

In the last week I made the move to New England, which brought with it new markets to be explored.

Today around noon, LH and I traversed the city by T to brave our way to Haymarket, an open-air produce market with dirt cheap surplus.  As she had warned me, it wasn't a site for the faint of heart.  With a duffle bag strapped to my side, green bags in both hands, and my wallet clutched severely under my elbow, we pushed our way through the sweaty crowds, all swarming for $6 boxes of Haitian mangoes and 50 cent bunches of bananas.  $1 bunches of green asparagus and five pound bags of $2 sweet potato.  Cash only.  Count your change.  And your fingers for that matter. 

Amid the loud Asian, Hispanic, and Middle Eastern merchants were the much louder, much pushier natives (read: Bostonians), effectively slapping customer's wrists with their jeers any time someone tried to hand-pick their own produce instead of accepting what was given to them from the underbelly of the stand.  At one stand, a somewhat swarthy merchant made bets to passersby.  "Try this strawberry.  If it's not sugar sweet, I'll pay you $20!  I'll pay you $40!"  Beyond the noises were the smells.  As you pushed through the market, you wafted between the aroma of those summer-ripe berries and, more unfortunately, the somewhat putrid, distinct smell of rotting vegetable. 

Off to the side were the indoor markets, somewhat more permanent than the weekend market they girded.  A fish market next to a Halal butcher ("Have your next goat slain here") next to a grain store next to a cheese shop.  Each of these indoor markets seemed to beckon from below, with a set of stairs leading down into each one.

$15 later and I could barely waddle back to the T.  LH dragged a suitcase behind her.  Needless to say this is my new favorite thing to do on a weekend in Boston.  

The bread is done.  It's not exactly French Bread, but I'm not exactly French.  It looks and feels and tastes and smells like bread.  And it has no flour in it.  Success.

Kitchen life

I always had a fantasy of being a chef, because I like kitchen life.

In between digs right now, I'm missing my own, cozy kitchen.  Until the heat was switched off for summer a month ago, I would start my early weekend days with my knees leaned up against my heating unit, sipping strongly caffeinated tea and staring out onto the grass until my tea kettle started to boil.  When I popped open the rickety, wooden window, the apartment became suddenly fresh and chilly.  I would put on some music and make breakfast.  My Opa visited recently and told me the windows were bayerish (Bavarian), meaning they were big enough for a boyfriend to sneak in or me to sneak out.  They were big, at any rate.  Four feet wide.  

I'll cut the nostalgia though.  There was, of course, also plenty of food in the kitchen.  It will be August before I'm settled again (this time in an admittedly and significantly more northern locale).  But I'm excited for my new kitchen!

That's what I like to read.

"Gluten-free baked goods full of flavor."  You don't say.  No really.  You normally don't say.  Check out this article in the NY Times.  


I'd noticed -- even in my short time as a GF girl -- that my local supermarkets have transformed into mini Fresh Fields Whole Foods, that no longer does every one stare blankly at me when I somewhat sheepishly decline the bun on my burger, and in general that the consumer foods industry has begun to show more understanding.  But when the Times chose to comment on something more important, i.e. actual flavor in GF foods, I had to thank my good friend Ms. Ecology for passing along the article.  


This is a good thing.  And while it's got a long way to go, it's already showing up in strange places.  My favorite story is still from a local haunt in my college town known to everyone as the joint (you really couldn't call this anything but a joint) "where students, tourists, & townspeople meet," as they've so kindly pointed out on their roof in large, white, painted letters.  

Hell, check out the aerial view.

During one particular dining experience, a friend of mine mentioned that this place served gluten-free cakes.  Choosing among the different types of bacon (delicious or more delicious), I was taken aback by the neon sign on the door announcing their sale.  Probably the owner, I thought to myself.  Alas, the place for breakfast until closing is actually closing.  But I'm hoping the legacy (and the GF outreach) will go on!

Coquo ergo sum - I cook, therefore I am

After months of applications, admissions tests, and the like, coupled with a fact-finding expedition of what's going on in my gut, I have two pieces of news: 1) I'm going to law school.  Officially now.  2) My body is just much happier when I'm gluten-free, lactose-free (heretoforth known as GFLF).  That revelation of course complicates my equal-opportunity love of food.  Never fear.


For a while I just assumed I could continue to cook "normally" for anyone else I ate with and then scrounge up whatever tasteless morsel actually had the stamp of GFLF.  How miserable.  I've given that up and, in the interest of finally coming to terms with reality, will be clearing out my flour-laden products cupboards.  No more licking the batter from my fingertips.  No more temptation.  No more cheating.


Going lactose free -- as I've found over the past two years -- isn't all that difficult.  You can also take pills when you occasionally sneak a bite of dairy.  And you're [relatively] fine.  Eliminating gluten isn't all that simple.  Not only is there complete unawareness on the part of those around me (including doctors!) save Celiacs and Intolerants themselves, but gluten is in everything.  Throw out the cereal, the pasta, the bread, the bagels, the cookies, and everything explicitly flour based...and then throw out everything else that "may have been processed with wheat."  


This is an opportunity.  Without exception, every type of pre-packaged gluten substitute has been terrible.  The rice flour bread crumbles and falls apart as though it's been sitting out waiting to become a crouton.  The corn pasta has no flavor and the texture is off.  The cereal is boring (how many times can you eat Rice Chex or "Glutinos" wannabe Cheerios?).  [This all excludes actual alternatives, such as the rice noodles popular in so many Asian cultures.]  I think food should look and taste great.  What I'm saying is that somebody has got to get this right.  This is an opportunity to do better on my (our) own and feel better.


I also have friends (like Dr. Bodybuilder) that have gone GF for other reasons ("It's how our ancestors ate") and found the results to be miraculous (increase in ability to focus, weight loss, clear skin, better sleep...).  So this isn't restricted to proclaimed Glutinos.  It's for everyone.


But first, some vocabulary:


Gluten
A protein composite that's found in foods processed from wheat (and related species such as barley and rye).  Many (I'd bargain to say most) processed foods are processed with ingredients that include gluten or have exposure to gluten because of their processing facilities; this I'll call trace gluten.  Gluten intolerance can result in serious, long-term health problems (digestive and non-digestive) as a result of malabsorption if not addressed.  The cure: a strict, gluten-free diet for life.


Lactose
A disaccharide sugar present in milk.  As a general rule, the more liquid a dairy product is, the more lactose it contains; this creates a spectrum from cheese to milk, with yoghurt and butter somewhere in between.  Lactose intolerance results from the deficiency of the enzyme lactase, which aids in the digestion of lactose.  The cure: avoiding lactose or taking supplements such as Lactaid.


Explicit gluten
Bagels.  Bread.  Cereal.  Pasta.  The obvious culprits.  Personally, I do well when I eliminate explicit gluten.  I'm generally OK with trace, so if you're Celiac, know that my ingredients may contain trace gluten.

Explicit lactose

Imagine milk, butter, yoghurt, or cheese and you've got explicit lactose.  That of course means non-explicit lactose is baked or cooked into other foods, changing its molecular structure and [in general] the effects it has on your body.  Generally, explicit lactose is the only type of lactose that causes problems for Intolerants.  Note bene: Casein allergies, which are also directly related to milk and dairy products, are significantly different.  




And second, a lesson in [forcing your body to start] listening to your gut:





I'll be back at work (here) soon.