Nora
Going gluten and dairy free after decades of eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, is not easy. See, I love food. I love food so much it's stupid. There is a very short list of Things I Will Not Eat, and it's basically mayonnaise and burgers from McDonald's (those are NOT hamburgers and don't you dare tell me otherwise). I was bred from the foodiest food-snob stock, and so much of my family's identity is wrapped up in our celebration of The Meal. Recalling any night during high school or a visit home from college, I can picture a number of us hanging out in the kitchen, making dinner together. Mom or dad hovers around the stove, while my siblings and I chop vegetables, whisk salad dressing, and steal hunks of rustic bread from the center of the table, swiping them in olive oil. There were usually candles, and fresh herbs from the garden. My parents are a slightly more middle class Williams-Sonoma catalog come to life, is what I'm saying, and it would be obnoxious if they weren't so goddamn nice and the food wasn't so good.