Sadly there is no foreign holiday for me this year, but being determined not to miss out on the best part of travelling, I decided to cook up some Vietnamese Pho! This was a little tricky having never been to Vietnam, but I managed to learn from the finest pho vendors in the land http://www.noodlepie.com/blog/pho/index.html



I would rate my pho tasty, but will have to hold out for a true comparison. Other amendemnts: real pho vendors serve up gargantuan bunches of greenery while mine were a little skimpy. The thai basil came from my rather anorexic little plant, and I didn't want to deplete the leaves too much. Perhaps more chilies, and a dash of oyster and chili sauce next time. I also preferred my pho with cooked meat.

Finally, for a true experience I will need to invest in a bowl with flowers which is deep but wide, and a small plastic seat.

Adapted from Authentic Vietnamese Cooking - Corinne Trang.

PHO BO (HANOI SOUP)
1 pound rice vermicelli
10 cups hot Spiced Beef Stock (see accompanying recipe)
1 pound raw lean beef, preferably the round, cut into paper-thin slices . Partially freeze and then slice.

ACCOMPANIMENTS
Lime wedges
1 cup mung bean sprouts
1/2 cup cilantro leaves
Ngo gai (Japanese saw-leaf herb), optional
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves
1 to 2 chopped fresh chiles or to taste
3 green onions, washed, ends removed, chopped
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
4 tablespoons good quality fish sauce, such as Koon Chun brand
In a large bowl, cover the vermicelli with cold water and soak it until it's pliable, about 30 mintues. Drain well.
In a large sauce pot, bring the stock to a boil.
Put a large handful of noodles in a strainer that fits into the pan. Dip the strainer in the hot stock and with chopsticks swirl the noodles until they are tender but still chewy, about 20 seconds. Shake the noodles dry and dump them into a soup bowl. Repeat with the remaining noodles.
Evenly divide the noodles into 6 individual soup bowls. Put equal amounts of beef slices over the noodles and divide the hot stock among the bowls.
Serve with the accompaniments, allowing each person to garnish the soup as desired.
Makes 6 servings.

SPICED BEEF STOCK
3 pounds oxtail pieces or other lean meaty beef bones, such as shin
Water to cover, plus an additional 14 cups to add to the oxtails after boiling
1 tablespoon salt
1 piece (3 inches) fresh ginger root
1 medium onion, peeled
6 whole star anise
1 1/2 cinnammon sticks
2 large bay leaves
4 whole cloves
1 piece (1 inch) rock sugar, or 1 tablespoon sugar
2 teaspoons fennel seeds

(I also added a small piece of orange rind, and left out the fennel seeds. I cut down on the seasonings as I used less oxtail, and pressure cooked everything for 45 minutes)

In a very large stockpot, cover the oxtails with water and bring the pot to a boil over high heat. Drain off the water and cover the oxtails with the remaining 14 cups fresh water and the salt. Bring to a boil again.
Meanwhile, using tongs, put the ginger and onion directly over a low gas burner or electric burner on medium-high heat and char them all over, about 4 minutes. Remove them from the heat and rinse away any ash. Add them to the stock.
Add the star anise, cinnamon sticks, bay leaves, cloves and sugar to the stock. Put the fennel seeds in a tea ball and add that to the stock.
When the liquid comes to a boil, reduce the heat to low and simmer, skimming occasionally, for about 2 1/2 hours.
Strain, discarding the solids. The stock will keep, covered, in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Many of you have been writing me emails and leaving comments. Thanks everyone; keep it coming. (And tell your friends about this site.) Most of you probably can't eat gluten already. But some of you have been asking: what the heck is gluten, anyway?

Well, let me give you a hint. It’s nowhere to be found in this photograph. There is no gluten in chickpeas, fresh carrots, Italian parsley, summer tomatoes, or green beans. If I had found any goat cheese in the refrigerator this evening, I would have tossed some of that in. There is no gluten in goat cheese. Or most cheeses. Just blue cheese, and sometimes gorgonzola (can you guess why?). If leftover roasted chicken or thinly sliced beef or smoked salmon had been lurking my refrigerator, I certainly would have thrown those in. No gluten in meat or fish. I thought about putting in some of the blueberries sitting on my counter this afternoon, left over when my darling nephew asked me, “Eat blueberries? Do you love blueberries, Shauna?” Yes I do, Elliott. But somehow, blueberries didn’t feel like the right choice, even though fresh fruit never has gluten in it. You probably can’t see them, but there’s meyer lemon grapeseed oil and fig balsamic vinegar in this salad. No gluten in them. This was my spontaneous, gorgeous gluten-free dinner, inspired by this site. (I’m enthralled and a little obsessed by the plethora of fabulous food blogs out there. Go exploring with some of the links to the right. You won’t be disappointed.)

So what is gluten?

Gluten is the elastic protein in wheat, rye, and barley. Its elasticity is why French bread holds together, why angel-food cakes rise so high, and why H and H bagels in New York are so wonderfully doughy. Gluten is the glue that holds together baked goods and pasta. In fact, gluten comes from the same Latin root as glue. Think of gluten as the glue of wheat, rye, and barley.

(And if you want a far more technical version of this explanation, click here.)

Other starches, like rice, corn, and potatoes, also have proteins that make them starchy. In fact, some technical experts will call those proteins gluten as well. But that’s a misnomer. Or maybe just too simple. Technically, the elastic proteins in wheat, rye, and barley are called gliadin and glutenin. Gluten is sometimes used as the umbrella term for all elastic proteins in grains and starchy vegetables. This scares some celiacs into not eating potatoes or rice. If this is you, breathe easy. The “glutens” of rice and corn are not the gluten of wheat, rye, and barley. This is why they react differently when you try to bake with them. In other words, this is why a cake made with only brown rice flour falls flat on its ass. (And really, it just wouldn’t taste that good either.)

Gluten (or, to be accurate, the gluten that damages the small intestines of people with celiac disease, and makes life uncomfortable for people with gluten sensitivity) is also part of the genetic structure of spelt, durum, semonlina, kamut, couscous, and triticale. I’ve never seen triticale in my life, and therefore, it’s pretty easy to avoid. I love couscous, but I can live without it. Spelt and kamut are ancient grains, wheat in its natural form, before it was hybridized. But they still contain gluten. This means that people who are allergic to wheat but fine with gluten can eat spelt. (I know. I can hardly keep track of all the allergen categories either.) If you can’t eat gluten, beware: hundreds of products advertise themselves as “Wheat Free!” but that doesn’t necessarily mean gluten free. Barley can be dangerous. Almost all beers are made from barley hops, of course, or use barley in the brewing. Anything malted comes from barley. So does some caramel coloring. Some soy milks or rice milks have barley in them. Root beer has gluten in it, except for this glorious exception. Still, wheat is where you’ll find gluten 90% of the time. This is why the FDA recently called for comments and scientific suggestions "...to help the agency to define and permit the voluntary use on food labeling of the term 'gluten-free.'" Eventually, maybe by the year 2010, the government will mandate that companies list wheat on their labels.

That will be a relief, if an incomplete one. Because giving up gluten would be infinitely easier if it just meant never having a pastrami sandwich on rye. But, believe it or not, the pastrami is as likely to make me as sick as the rye bread. Why? Gluten is hidden in thousands of products, in places you would never think to suspect. Mass-processed meats are often made with gluten, to fill out the salami or make the turkey seem plumper. I bet you never guessed that meat would have wheat in it. Most popsicles have gluten in them. Did you know that? Gluten is often used as a thickener in commercial products. Think about the flour paste you made in elementary school. Remember how thick and viscous it grew as you stirred it? Now, imagine that in popsicles. If you make your own, they end up fairly thin, just frozen juice. A good, old-fashioned popsicle requires real concentration and sucking powers, because it lasts and lasts. In most commercial popsicles, and a hundred other packaged foods, “natural flavors” means gluten.

Other places gluten can hide:

--modified food starch
--MSG
--lecithins
--textured vegetable protein (think veggie burgers, or any fake meat)
--emulsifiers
--soy sauce (most of it contains wheat; you have to use wheat-free tamari instead)
--prescription and over-the-counter drugs, even some vitamins

And remember, we’re not just talking about those ingredients in pure form. Who eats handfuls of modified food starch? But take a look at the labels of the foods in your kitchen right now, and search for it. It’s in everything. If you’re trying to avoid gluten, you may reach for some healthy, organic baked tofu at the local co-op. That’s going to be good for you, right? Well, about the tenth ingredient on the side of the package is soy sauce. If you don’t look, and you eat the tofu, you’re sick for two days. You can even get gluten by licking your envelope, because the glue on it might contain wheat.

It grows worse. I have learned, through horrible trial and error, that food companies are legally required to tell you everything that is in food. (Except that no food package ever says: CONTAINS GLUTEN. You have to decipher that yourself.) But food companies are not required to tell you what is on food. Anything packaged that comes in individual pieces--candy, frozen foods, corn tortillas; french fries; the cashews I ate the other night--could be dusted in flour just before being stuffed in the package. Why? Because we live in America, and we like everything to look pretty. Goodness forbid that two pieces of chocolate stick together.

About a month ago, I was at dinner at my dear friend Francoise’s. She went to great lengths to cook me a gluten-free meal, including using different cutting boards for the bread and salad. All so I wouldn’t grow sick. At the end of the meal, she offered me some chocolate-covered espresso beans from Starbucks. I was prepared. I read the label. They listed tapioca dextrin, instead of just maltodextrin. (Whatever the heck dextrin is, sometimes it can be made of wheat.) Everything seemed copacetic. I ate two. Half an hour later, at her daughter’s piano concert, I felt that now-familiar feeling. Headache. Flush. Full stomach. Overwhelming sleepiness. I rushed home for the inevitable two days of feeling lousy.

And I suffered for two days because of the infintesimal amount of wheat that had been dusted on two chocolate-covered espresso beans.

You see how insidioius this can be?

So that’s the story of gluten. It’s microscopic and elastic. It’s hard to see and more powerful than I ever thought possible. There’s a real power, for me, in knowing just what it is, and how to avoid it. As I have written in here, almost every day, I have never felt better in my entire life than I do today.

Still, living this way is a detective job. Where's my film noir lighting?

I'm tired of gluten.

But apparently, I'm not tired of writing about it.

So many people say to me, when they find out how much I know about celiac disease, the effect of gluten, and the unexpected places that gluten can hide: "Wow, you sure know a lot." When they find out that I have only been eating gluten-free since late April (April 30th, to be exact), they look at me as though I am something otherworldly. An excellent nutritionist at Swedish Hospital said to me last month, "You have really embraced this. I wish that everyone could take this in such easy stride."

Yes, well, it's not always so easy.

I am cheerful about it. I am determined to eat well and be healthy. I'm filled with gratitude that I'm finally feeling well after years of having little energy and a series of medical crises. 98% of the time, I count this all as an unexpected blessing.

And then there are the times I'm just pissed off.

What the hell? I can't eat gluten ever again? Four months ago, I had never even heard of celiac. And now, it turns out that not only has it been affecting me my entire life, but also I must stringently follow this gluten-free life for the rest of my life. What?

You mean, I'm forever going to have to explain what gluten is to people who look at me with their heads cocked to the side and their eyes scrunched up in disbelief? I, who was rarely picky about anything, accepting life as it arrived, now have to be demanding in restaurants and make a nuisance of myself? And even then, I'll still probably get some gluten and not feel well for a couple of days?

Arrgh.

(It's moments like these that I feel like Charlie Brown after Lucy has pulled away the football at the last moment, again.)

Bollocks to you, gluten.

There, now I feel better.

There are moments that feel like one of those blisteringly complicated and furious passages in a thrashing song, where the guitars and drums cascade higher and higher, entangling themselves together and driving all the sound in the room to one point, loud and feral...and then everything drops to a quiet place. Still.

I'm human. I grow mad. Annoyed. Tired of talking about gluten. Sad that when it comes to food, I'm always going to be special. Exhausted of reading labels, trying my best, and then still growing sick sometimes.

The other night, Daniel and Jeff made me a wonderful dinner. Fresh pesto on rice pasta. Roasted vegetables. The leftovers of my black bean salad. And lots of nibbles, which Daniel and I both checked for possible suspicious ingredients. He has been a vegan for 26 years, so he knows what it's like to check labels assiduously. Everything either said gluten free, or I figured it had to be gluten-free from reading the ingredients list.

I'm learning this the hard way: don't put anything in my mouth unless it says gluten free or the company has verified it for me. It's a hard way to live, but it's the only way to ensure I'm going to be well.

There were cashews from Trader Joe's, a relatively new product dusted with lime and Thai spices. The last time I was at Daniel's, I passed on them. I didn't know, for sure. Something about the look of them triggered it for me. But this time, I don't know why, I tried some. I found out when I returned home that they are not on TJ's carefully prepared gluten-free list. It's possible the roasted vegetables had soy sauce in them. Or maybe it was the Terra chips, some of which have wheat in them, I found out later that evening. By that point, I couldn't remember what kind I had eaten.

Halfway through dinner, I started feeling quavery. Bit of a headache. A flush rising on my face. And the sinking feeling in my stomach. Daniel was taking digital photographs of us all, and half an hour later, he put them on the computer and showed them to us. (We're in an instant gratification generation.) I saw the photograph of the two of us and nearly cried. "Uh-oh," I stumbled. "I knew it. I'm having a gluten reaction."

My neck and face were red, as though someone had tipped tomato juice on me. My entire life, I have run toward a flushed face. Blotchy. Pink. I thought it was just part of being me. But now, I know, it's a gluten reaction.

I gathered my things, walked to the car disappointed, and drove home. By the time I had reached my front door, my head throbbed with the old, familiar headache. I had nearly fallen asleep at the wheel.

Bollocks to you, gluten.

Okay, that's probably fairly churlish. But, call me churlish. I hate that something in micromillimeters has this profound an effect upon me. Yes, I'm happy I discovered it. And I'm finding joy in it, most of the time. But sometimes, I just want to say, bollocks to you, gluten.

I've learned now. At times like these, go on a picnic.

Last night, my friend Nicole took me to the Patty Griffin concert at the Woodland Park Zoo for my birthday present. And to truly celebrate, she had prepared a gluten-free picnic. (You can see part of it here.) Her kindness silenced my annoyed and pitying thoughts. Even though my innards were still in a twist, and I definitely wasn't at my best, I couldn't stop smiling. Yes, the music was fantastic, with the sun shining on the heads of an archetypal Seattle crowd—everyone healthy looking and not stressed, dressed in REI clothes, tie-dyed shirts, tasteful shorts, and colors made brighter by the enormous blue sky—and nothing to do but sit back in our lounge chairs and participate in the day. Patty Griffin is one of my absolute favorites, and her voice in person is even greater.

But the company was even better. Because, if I'm sometimes irritated that I have to avoid gluten, I'm doubly heartened when someone goes out of her way to make me food that won't make me sick. Nicole made crepes with brown rice flour, almond meal, and a touch of soy flour. And she filled them with goat cheese, mashed figs, toasted pumpkin seeds, and nectarines. We ate grapes and cut canteloupe, pesto pasta, and fruit salad I made us in my kitchen. And to top it off, Reed's Ginger Chews, which are mollifying for an unsettled stomach. And I know they are gluten free. I've checked.

The sun shone brightly. We laughed and talked about life beyond gluten. We sat in silence, smiling at the music. And I felt very much loved.

So here's my suggestion for when you are throwing a tantrum because you can't eat gluten anymore. One, let yourself throw it for a bit. We have to feel what we feel. Two, stop after awhile. Feeling wretched about the fact that you're going to feel wretched sometimes is not going to make you feel better. Three, drink peppermint tea, eat some ginger, drink lots of water, and listen to your body well enough to spend the day on the couch (preferably reading a thick, absorbing book), close to the bathroom. Four, when you're feeling better, find someone you love to help you pack a basket full of the bounties of life. Swing it in your hands as you talk together. Sit down on the grass. And enjoy your picnic.

p.s. Blogger alert: I've just entered this month's competition of Does My Blog Look Good in This, hosted by Spittoon.biz, and run by the lovely Andrew from the UK. You can't really vote in it, but you can see my cupcake photo again at his site.