The celery argument

In contrast to my recent gourmet gluten-free musings, some dispiriting events have put me in a bleaker frame of mind lately. Picture the scene: I'm three (or four) ciders in to a summer evening in the pub, with similarly sozzled revellers around me. One of them, drooling into his pint, says: "I really love beer. If I were coeliac, I'd kill myself."

It almost seems like a sitcom set-up, hearing someone tell me, a propos of nothing, that suicide is preferable to coeliac. Rather than backing down from a politically incorrect bad joke with the least appropriate audience imaginable, this chap persists in pushing his point. Even when alerted to the fact that he's telling a coeliac he'd rather kill himself than share her fate, he blathers on to the tune of the gluten-free lifestyle being beyond tolerable, finishing with the following leafy green analogy:

"I mean, imagine if you could only eat celery for the rest of your life. It's just WORSE."

This is your life, and it's ending one celery at a time.
Image by wikioticsIan, CC BY-SA 2.0

Leaving aside this chilly vision of an all-salad dystopia, hearing people gasp about the horrendous limitations of the gluten-free diet is usually the point where I jump in to extol the virtues of gluten-free beers, bread and baked goods. As all free-from folks know, all of these have come in leaps and bounds over the past few years, meaning coeliacs aren't denied the pleasures of cookies, cakes and donuts (provided they know where to look).

But I wonder if the celery argument isn't actually coming from a place of ignorance about gluten-free food; could it be a simple as snarky belittlement? After all, it's the same species of comeback you'll hear any time a vegetarian dares to describe the enjoyment of meat-free cuisine; some joykill carnivore is bound to come along and scoff, "Well, it's still not steak, is it."

On the gluten-free side, what you'll hear is this: "You've got pasta, but it does taste a bit different, doesn't it." "You've got donuts, but you can't have Krispy Kremes." "The pizza's a little dry..." You could present a giant-sized gluten-free banquet table that stretches off into the sunset, packed with three-tier gluten-free cakes, loaves of gf bread the size of Audis, pizzas that could blot out the sun, and some naysayer would still say, "Yeah, but it's not the same." The implication being, "You're still limited. Your enjoyment of life still isn't quite as full as mine."

No one would deny that coeliac is less convenient than non-coeliac (and we gluten-freers certainly don't need reminding of that). And I don't want to derail into a discussion of whether there's any objective gauge of human pleasure (which would you prefer: 50 years of eating only celery, 10 years of eating anything you want, or a lifetime free from navel-gazing thought experiments?) With Celery Guy, it may come down to something as banal as callous oneupmanship.

In this context, it's a low blow, considering someone's permanent and uninvited health issues are at the core. It never fails to surprise me to hear people openly crowing over the coeliac lifestyle ("ugh, I couldn't do it") or insisting that our lives are just pitiable, but I do hear it repeatedly. It's hard to picture people patting themselves on the back to this extent while patronising people with other health problems (but perhaps it does happen?) Is it the norm to wax on to someone with knee problems about how marvellous it is to be able to trampoline? And how any trampolining they do just wouldn't be as much fun? Because of their knees! So even if you think you're having fun, knocky-knees, you aren't! So make sure you have that inferiority at the forefront of your mind next time you're trampolining, ha!

Because if you're not as frickin' awesome at trampolining as I am - why bother?
Image by Tours and Tales.com, CC BY 2.0

It reminds me of the underbelly of snide belittling that exists in the world of travel, my other great love (besides food. And trampolining. Not celery, though.) Certain travellers seem to get their biggest kicks out of proclaiming that they've topped someone else's adventures (like in my favourite scene from Black Books - 'the tourist swamps' - below.)



The next day, Celery Guy wrote me an email apology saying that he'd spoken out of turn and regretted causing offence. I was relieved to get acknowledgement of this, but I did wonder: was he merely sorry to have unwittingly dumped his side-splitting hyperbole onto a coeliac? Or did he, on reflection, recognise the ugly implication behind his words?

I picture Celery Guy relating this story from his own point of view, maybe to a chorus of sympathisers all grunting, "Well mate, I'd kill myself as well - no beer OR bread?!" Maybe they'll wince that he was just unlucky to have spoken out of turn to the wrong audience. The unspoken core issue - the corrosive need to prove that you're winning at life over someone else, and perhaps even the lack of confidence that all this braying suggests - will sit unexamined. 

Gluten-free feasting in Lyon, France

Gluten-free, not everything-free.

Not a hard concept, but when you dine gluten-free, your food is often free from rather a lot of other things you could happily eat.

This is an economic phenomenon in part. Let's say you invent a tasty wheat-free crispbread, and you sell it to a niche market of wheat-free eaters. Tweak the recipe to be gluten-free, and dairy-free, and entirely new markets open up.

The very lovely Place des Terreaux in Lyon, perfect place for a vin blanc. Image © Anita Isalska

In that vein, many airlines seem to have a general 'free-from' option for their airline meals. I've found that if you tick 'gluten-free', you can also expect to be denied butter, yoghurt or (most heartbreakingly) ice cream. Making one meal option free from an entire group of allergens simplifies things for the airline...even if it did once land me with a tofu pudding while Wheaty ate ice cream. Infuriatingly, the brand of ice cream even said 'gluten-free' right there on the label. But the flight attendants serenely repeated their mantra of 'no ice cream with special meal'. I sulked that day.

So menus that purport to be free from almost everything allergenic instil in me a blend of excitement (ooh gluten-free food!) and trepidation (please oh please don't skimp on the desserts). But, it turns out, with an inventive chef there is nothing to fear.

No shortage of cafes, bars and brasseries in Lyon - much of it gf-friendly. Image © Anita Isalska

My latest and greatest gluten-free find was in Lyon, France. The city is known as a gourmet paradise but with so many wheat-tastic dishes (breaded pig's trotter, anyone?) I wasn't sure how I would fare...

It turns out that Lyon has a pleasing line of health-conscious, organic and gluten-free cuisine. My best find was Mon Histoire Dans L'assiette - its entire menu is without gluten, dairy, peanuts, shellfish and other common allergens. They bake their own springily soft bread in-house (made from a blend of quinoa, rice and chestnut flours) and serve up fresh and flavoursome main courses (carnivorous and veggie options).

Snapped the sweets before they went in my belly - just. Image © Anita Isalska

But the desserts. Oh, the desserts. An all-too-generous spoonful of Wheaty's caramelised apple with citrus sablé was enough to elicit sighs. My own dessert, gingerbread loaf with poached pear in salted caramel with refreshing pear granita, was a joy. When you are served truly fantastic food, nothing is missing.

Oh delicious Lyon, I'll be back. Image © Anita Isalska

And the joy of French food is that very often, it's blissfully gluten-free by sheer purity of its ingredients. When talking to waiting staff in restaurants in France, I hear a lot of 'bien sûr, of course there's no flour in the sauce, it's 80% butter, a smidge of egg yolk and garlic by the clove!' They know what's in their food, and are often delighted to discuss it. Dining out as a free-from eater is a joy, rather than the teeth-pulling negotiation it can be here in the UK.

As if there weren't enough reasons to linger in France...

Five things not to say to a gluten-free eater

I like to think of myself as happy-go-lucky, but sometimes you have the kind of week that demands a rant.

As ever, it's not gluten-free living that troubles me, it's the unpleasant attitudes you can sometimes encounter when navigating life on a special diet.

Image by Kristine Lewis. CC BY-SA 2.0

Most people fall somewhere on the spectrum from neutral acceptance to actively supportive when you "come out" to them as eating gluten-free, but there are always people who blurt out a response that is frustrating, condescending or just plain rude. Here is a rundown of the five least-favourite reactions I've had when explaining that I'm gluten-free.

1. "Oh my god, I'd just die if I couldn't eat pizza!"

"You must really enjoy pizza. Or not enjoy life, I can't quite tell."

Maybe the hyperbole is intended as sympathy for the inconvenience of a gluten-free diet. The implication (intended or not) that life without wheat isn't worth living may be laughably absurd, but it genuinely infuriates me. Imagine how this translates to any other health problem: "oh my god, I'd just die if I was diagnosed with diabetes; I'd just kill myself if I had to use a wheelchair; I'd hurl myself off a cliff if I suffered disfiguring burns..." Uncomfortable with how that sounds? Coeliac disease is a medical condition that is manageable through a change of diet - if someone implies, however casually, that this renders my life too awful for them to contemplate, I feel embarrassed for their lack of perspective. Not to mention how insulting this attitude is to people who battle much more painful or inconvenient health problems than coeliac.

Coeliacs: we can only eat rainbows.
'Rainbow' by Girish Gopi. CC BY-SA 2.0

2. "Is there anything you can eat?"

"I subsist purely on air and light. Gwyneth Paltrow does it too."

Sadly coeliacs all-too-often encounter mean-spirited digs, often from someone with a bee in their bonnet about "faddy eaters". Often it's the kind of person who has no knowledge of food intolerances and allergies, hates vegetarians with a passion, and prides him/herself on "eating anything", as though it's a badge of heroism. Since they're asking, I can eat fruits and vegetables, corn flour, quinoa, rice, potatoes, chicken, fish, all seafood, amazing cupcakes I bake using brown rice flour, milk, yoghurt, butter, olives, peanuts, raisins, ooh all kinds of dried fruit, wine and lots of it, cheeses - my favourite is Brie, steak, potato waffles, turkey, soups, the zillion kinds of gluten-free bread on offer, ham, bacon, pancetta, tomatoes, apples, one of many brands of gluten-free sausages, coconuts, avocados, coffee, tea, sugar, sushi, buckwheat, kebabs, polenta, smoked duck, chocolate truffles, salmon and cucumber with cream cheese, fruit smoothies, chia seeds, apricot jam, Genuis croissants, almond butter, grilled octopus, walnut and blue cheese salad, hummus, marzipan, gluten-free beers like Estrella Damm Daura, spirits like vodka and whiskey, corn tortillas, pulled pork, balsamic vinegar, sour cream, prawn and cashew nut stir-fry, Nutella, Corn Flakes, ostrich meat...

Eyes glazing over yet? Now wouldn't it just have been quicker to ask what I can't eat?

3. "So how come suddenly there are all these allergies that never used to exist?"

"It's actually part of a government conspiracy. You didn't hear this from me."

Call me a cynic, but whenever I hear this, it doesn't exactly seem to be in the spirit of genuine scientific enquiry. The genuine answer is that food intolerances and allergies have always been around, but their correct diagnosis has only dawned along with the long, slow progress of medical science. Old Aunt Agatha with her "digestion troubles" a few generations ago might have had an undiagnosed dairy intolerance or coeliac disease. A couple of decades ago, IBS was used as a diagnosis for a cluster of conditions - nowadays we're discovering that people diagnosed with this may have a specific food intolerance. And it's only recently that coeliac disease is being diagnosed via a blood test for antibodies, sometimes in people who feel mild or zero symptoms. The implication that there is a crazy fad or fashion for dietary intolerances is a huge insult to those who don't choose to follow a special diet, but who do so for essential health reasons.

Biscuits in wheat flour shocker!
'Biscuits' by Emilian Robert Vicol. CC BY 2.0

4. "Wait, so you can't eat chocolate biscuits? What about custard creams? You can't eat Jammie Dodgers either? What about KitKats? No KitKats?!"

"The truth is, I have a phobia of the crunching sound biscuits make. Please respect this and don't offer them to me again."

Not everyone is au fait with what gluten means, nor do they need to be. But how dull it is to have to explain that yes, the main component of mass-produced biscuits and cookies tends to be wheat flour, so yes, I will be turning down the offer of a ginger biscuit, just as readily as the offer of a chocolate digestive, bourbon, chocolate chip cookie and Jaffa cake. I don't mind people forgetting, but I do so loathe interacting with people with whom you can't have a single conversation about food without them going into theatrics of astonishment that the biscuit they hold in their hand contains wheat flour. Thanks for offering me the treat; no thank you I'm afraid I can't eat that; let's move the conversation on without yet another discussion about whether or not biscuits contain wheat. Spoiler alert: they probably do. Curb your amazement and move on.

 5. "What's the point of going to Italy if you can't eat pasta?"

"You can eat pasta at home, so why would you bother going to Italy?"

Florence. It isn't made of wheat.
'Florence, Italy' by Bob Hall. CC BY-SA 2.0

As a frequent traveller, this used to offend me but now it makes me laugh. I have answered this deadpan in the past, saying that coeliac disease pretty much kills the enjoyment of Florence's dazzling Uffizi Gallery, breathing in the scent of a delicious Chianti in Tuscany, or the feeling of the warm waters of the Amalfi Coast lapping against my toes. Without my mouth being crammed with wheaty pasta, roaming around the ruins of Pompeii is without wonder, and staring up at Milan's Duomo is joyless and empty. Nowadays I gently inform people that while I'm delighted they find pasta their principal reason for visiting Italy, they might be surprised to find out that food is one of the reasons I love the country too. Quite apart from the naturally gluten-free cuisine (truffle cheeses, fresh seafood, risottos, steaks, mozzarella, wine, gelato...), Italy has a higher diagnosis rate of coeliac disease than my own country, the UK, so gluten-free pizzas and pastas aren't hard to find. And even if they weren't, do I really need to spell out Italy's many other charms.

What's the worst reaction you've ever had to telling someone you're gluten-free?

In defence of Instagramming your meals

You've placed your order, fragrant steam is wafting from the kitchen, and finally the waiting staff set your meal in front of you. What's the first thing you do: tuck in to your first forkful, or reach for your camera?

The Big Buddha on Lantau Island. Photo by Anita Isalska

Whether you've sat impatiently as your dining companion Instagrammed or tweeted their meal, or whether you're the one tagging your friends at that bar or restaurant, social media and meals have been cosying up for quite some time. The trend hasn't just exasperated diners, some chefs have gone as far banning their customers from photographing their food. Perhaps it's because the camera flashes detract from the carefully choreographed ambiance (maybe less of a problem in your local greasy spoon), but some find it an affront to the food to let your souffle sag while you choose the perfect Instagram filter to bring out its creamy undertones. For plenty of people though, it's more about the annoyance of a distracted dining companion than an issue with social media sharing.

Well, with all apologies to friends who will have to wait while I snap a picture of my gluten-free cupcakes, I'm not going to stop Instagramming my food any time soon. Do I think the world is genuinely interested in what I fill my face with day to day? Probably not, but being a gluten-free eater, and part of the net's gf community, I know what a difference all those Instagram pic, tweets and blog posts can make.

Finding MANA! in Hong Kong. Photo by Anita Isalska

Take my recent trip to Hong Kong. I spent a few days stopping over in Hong Kong on my way to Australia (more on my food adventures there later) and while I was beyond excited to see the sights, spending time in a city known for noodles and soy sauce-laced cuisine made my stomach flutter with worry. I might be standing awe-struck in beautiful temples and enjoying ferry rides, but would I be doing so on an empty stomach?

It was social media that saved me. In the days leading up to the trip, I trawled Instagram hashtags for clues on gluten-free eats in Hong Kong. I scoured Twitter and blogs for tips on eating gf and before too long I was bursting with leads on places to eat safely and happily in HK. This blog entry from Sassy Hong Kong was one of the best finds -- I munched on takeaway coconut cake from MANA! in Kowloon Park, and even had gluten-free chicken spring rolls from Noodlemi based on its tips.

Spicy rice noodles with grilled king prawns at Noodlemi.
Photo by Anita Isalska

I ate extremely well in the city, and it's all because of people photographing, tagging and writing about their food online (the actual websites of some of the places I dined at didn't come up in a simple Google search, I only found them via blogs, comments on blogs, forums and other social media).

So when I find a fantastic gluten-free treat, my compulsion to Instagram or tweet isn't founded on some insane belief that the world needs to know what's going into my belly. Or a conviction that the internet needs more pictures of red velvet cupcakes. I know other gluten-free diners, like me, have a keen eye for the gluten-free clues strewn around the internet, so I won't be stopping snapping, tweeting or (over)sharing my food anytime soon. And I hope no one else does either.

Straight from the horse's mouth: why gluten-free eaters should be troubled by the British meat scandal

I'm so hungry I could eat a horse... no wait, I just did.

If you've been following the British horse meat scandal in the news, you've had your fill of equine jokes by now. For those new to the drama, supermarkets in the United Kingdom are under scrutiny after discoveries that horse DNA has been found in budget mincemeat and that in some products, it made up 30% to 100% of the supposed beef mince. And that's not a neigh-gligible proportion (sorry).

Honestly, fellas - it wasn't personal. Don't give me that look!
'Horses' by David Feltcamp. CC BY 2.0

Horse isn't something that graces the British dinner table often, and we can put that down to culture and geography. Personally, I don't believe there's even a smidgen of superiority to be enjoyed in eating one animal and not another (barring endangered species). You won't find me decrying dogs being eaten in China, or weeping over poor old dobbin as I peruse the donkey meat sausages in a French supermarket. Ultimately, eating meat involves participation in an industry that farms, kills and eats living creatures en masse; if we're meat eaters, we aren't in a position to tut at a different nation's cuisine because an animal we personally find endearing is being eaten. (Especially if you are - like me - a consumer of pork. I mean, just look at these guys. It's a moral nightmare.) 'Normality' in a cuisine depends on what is available. And that might well be horse (of course).

Let's hope these aren't from a British supermarket.
'Burgers and Kebabs' by Jem Stone. CC BY 2.0

So if I'm not squeamish about horse meat per se, why am I writing about it? Well, this isn't a matter of delicate British palates being offended by an unexpected newcomer to their tried-and-trusted diets. It's that through incompetence or cost-cutting, consumers were deceived about the contents of their food. People were eating one thing, thinking it was another. And as a gluten-free eater, you know where I'm going with this: if your health depends on non-consumption of certain foods, hearing that the labelling of food can't be trusted is rotten news.

Gluten-free eaters (and followers of other special diets) put a good amount of trust in products labelled specifically as free-from. But plenty of us also eat products outside the specifically labelled free-from section (although I know plenty of coeliacs are sensitive enough to steer clear). For me, if chocolate doesn't list gluteny products in its ingredients, I will probably feel safe eating it. For me, it doesn't have to come from a specifically gluten-free brand; if you say there's no wheat in there, my best guess would be that there is no wheat in there. Because why on earth would you lie about that?

One of you better be gluten-free.
'Chocolate treats' by Robyn Jay. CC BY-SA 2.0

One of the more unpleasant opinions being aired about the horse meat scandal is that anyone who buys ultra-budget meat products shouldn't really expect better. We all make tasteless jokes about value-branded sausages containing rat, pigeon or chicken feet - but in reality, the idea that we should pay higher prices for the privilege of being told what is in the very food that we eat is a repugnant one. (Not to mention a kick in the teeth for gluten-free eaters, who already pay premium prices for food they can safely eat.) If traceability of the contents of food products would add an extra cost that some consumers are unwilling or unable to absorb, then at least give a disclaimer ('may contain wheat'; or 'may contain other kinds of red meat').

So what's next for the gluten-free eater, whose food paranoia has been ignited by the scandal? Do I spend my days firing concerned letters off to food manufacturers, to ask if there's any stealth wheat in their supposedly gluten-less chocolate? Do I avoid mass-produced brands where there's more potential for supplier or factory failures in the long chain between when their food is made and when it reaches my plate? I can only hope that the breaking of this scandal in the UK is a warning klaxon for food manufacturers to up their game and be accountable for what they dish up - basically, to stop horsing around.

Do you trust the labels on your food? Let me know in the comments!

"Just peel off the batter": party catering nightmares of gluten-free eaters

Nothing strikes fear into the heart of a coeliac quite like canapes. 

These seemingly innocuous nuggets of food are the party caterer's dream: dainty finger food that can be slung into an oven and brought out en masse to line the stomachs of booze-drenched party-goers (no doubt saving more than one office party from a sorry drunken end). But for those who eat gluten-free, party catering is a pain. Canapes are almost always on a bed of wheat, encrusted in wheaty pastry or slathered onto bread. Mass-produced finger food is very coeliac unfriendly, so those vol-au-vents, mini-hamburgers and battery tempura make my heart sink. They make me yearn for the days of retro snacks like cheese and pineapple on sticks. 

Evil, evil things. Just give me the salmon and ham!
Image by sushi♥in, CC Attribution

So in the midst of Christmas party season, plenty of gluten-free eaters will be a little nervous about what awaits them. We can only pray for carrot sticks and hummus, the safe refuge of a cheese board, or bank on our cast-iron drinking skills to see us through the night.

Being a prepared sort of coeliac, I saw the canape storm coming, but forewarning the party organiser seemed to fall on deaf ears this time around. I'd sent an FYI about my special diet with the original RSVP weeks before, but I also followed up a few days before the night.

"None of the party food is gluten-free," the organiser told me. 

Naturally, I responded with dozens of links to food that would be fine for me and the other gluten-free guests: sushi, cheeses, hams, a mini-roast, veggies, cold meats, panna cottas... a mouth-watering line-up. But alas, there was mysteriously "no time" to acquire such goodies as these. 

Yep, this is all you'll be eating. If you're LUCKY.
Image by Jules Morgan, CC Attribution

It does mystify me somewhat when naturally gluten-free goodies that are readily available sudden acquire an aura of unattainability in the context of catering. While I could pop down to a supermarket and have an armful of gluten-free snacks in mere minutes, I've met a number of party organisers and caterers who tell me sorrowfully how unable they are to cater for gluten-free eaters. (Is it fear of being sued, is it reluctance to do a quick Google search on 'gluten' -- maybe someone in the industry can tell me in the comments.) But in this case, I sensed the reluctance and just asked for cheese. Even the most rushed and coeliac-unfriendly party-planner can hopefully add some cheddar to their to-do list.

But if only the conversation had ended at cheese.

"There'll be plenty of vegetable tempura, which is only covered in a thin layer of flour," she added helpfully. "You could peel off the layer of flour and eat those." 

I was amazed. Firstly, wouldn't it just be simpler to have some non-breaded veggies in the first place? (Carrot sticks aren't hard to come by, unless there's been a rush on them this Christmas!) And secondly, did she really want to see me (and the two other gluten-free party-goers) sorrowfully picking apart scraps from the buffet because there was nothing else for us to eat? Maybe I could even soap off the floury coating with some Fairy liquid, to make sure they were truly safe to eat! Genius!

Cupcakes make me happy.
Image by albastrica mititica, CC Attribution

My wonderful Wheaty Eater encapsulated this absurdity nicely when I vented my frustration:

Vegetarians should just not eat the meat of their steak and mushroom sauce.

Peanut allergy suffers should just scrape off the satay sauce from the chicken skewers.

Alcoholics should just boil the champagne, capture and cool the water vapour and redirect it to a jug, then pour themselves a new glass. 

So I did what any slighted coeliac would do: I headed straight to the Hummingbird Bakery for a mountain of made-without cupcakes -- creamy cheese frosted red velvet cakes, star-spangled vanilla buns -- and slammed them down at this party, sharing them with coeliacs and non-coeliacs alike (best treats on the buffet by far).

Now, I don't expect venues and restaurants to have gluten-free goodies up their sleeve at the drop of a hat. But with plenty of notice, and for a party catering to a group where THREE guests are coeliac, I do expect this to be taken into account. Carrot sticks, cheeses, meats and veggies aren't rocket science. Ultimately, if you are happy to sit back and watch three of your guests peeling tempura and praying it doesn't make them sick, you aren't much of a host. 

When gluten-free substitutes go bad

If you know me, or have read my blog, you'll know I don't waste much energy moaning about gluten-free food. The industry has moved on from concrete-blocks of bread and muddy-tasting pastas, towards fantastic gf baked goods, innovative recipes and products that are indiscernible from their wheaty brethren.

But this isn't to say that you don't occasionally find a gluten-free product so bizarre or tasteless that a hushed silence sweeps across the dining room table. It pains me to give a bad review to this couscous substitute, but I was almost in awe of how badly it turned out.

Couscous is a sneaky one for coeliacs. It doesn't immediately scream 'gluten' but it's made from a crushed form of wheat. It's not a forbidden carb that I've mourned - I tend to substitute quinoa if I fancy something with a couscousy texture, and I find saffron-tinged rice goes great with Moroccan style tagines. But I still snapped up a packet of gluten-free couscous-alike when I saw it on sale in a French supermarket. Made from 100% rice but with the fluffy texture of couscous: worth a try, right?

The first clue of a culinary disaster in the making was the cooking phase. Those plump little nodules of faux couscous seemed to disappear into a foaming mess of starchy water as soon as the temperature rose. Gluten-free pastas are sometimes guilty of being extra starchy, and needing an extra rinse to rid themselves of a gloopy coating, but this churning cloudy liquid was something else.

Worse, those couscous grains were impossible to free from the soapy-looking froth. My best effort to drain and strain the sticky stuff came to nothing. Nothing except ruining my shiny sieve and leaving me with an evening of brillo-padding the living hell out of the saucepans ruined by this tar-textured food experiment. It remained stubbornly soupy, and was so water-clogged it needed its own little ramekin to be served in, to stop it from splurging all over the rest of the plate, like a creeping evil slime.

Should have stuck with rice.
Pic by Effervescent Elephant,
CC Attribution-ShareAlike

And how did it taste? Like slimy, undrained rice. The whole cycle of effort behind this product felt painfully wasted. The manufacturers, grinding down rice and reforming it into couscous-style nubbins. Me, heating and draining and scrubbing pans. And the result was a vastly inferior version of the grain it was made from, lovely fluffy rice.

Maybe the lesson is that sometimes, the substitute you're looking for already exists. Serve up buckwheat, quinoa or rice, instead of chasing couscous. Your saucepans will thank you for it.


Have you ever had a truly awful gluten-free substitute? 
Or maybe you've had better luck with this couscous and can tell me where I went wrong? Let me know in the comments!