He unwraps foil to reveal a tightly wound flour tortillastuffed with rice, beans,and all the things of a burritobut there’s nothing super about it,particularly when washed down with beer, she watches it all godown from here, wondering
Food poet Annelies Zijderveld is a cooking teacher and author of Steeped: Recipes Infused with Tea (Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2015).
I’m a 20-year-old guy with food issues and some other medical conditions. I’m someone who takes medication multiple times a day. Someone who battles fatigue and weakness just to get out of bed. Someone who has to plan hours ahead to accomplish a simple task. I don’t live a normal life.
Sandra Beasley is the author of three collections of poetry and a memoir, Don’t Kill the Birthday Girl: Tales from an Allergic Life (Crown). Poem excerpted from “Allergy Girl” from Theories of Falling (© 2008) by Sandra Beasley.
There are a thousand things that hurry us from one place to another, especially during the holidays. But when you see a small business owner putting himself or herself out there, stop if you can. We benefit from their persistence, particularly as part of a dietary community that was long ignored by the mass market.
Like many people who were diagnosed with celiac disease as adults, I wasn’t surprised to find I have osteoporosis.
I hit a bad patch earlier this year. Gluten came at me from all directions—and I didn’t see it coming. Having lived with celiac disease for 40 years, I’m not a newcomer to this regimen. To stay safe and healthy, I rely on my instinct, knowledge of the diet, potential danger zones and, importantly, the good will of those feeding me. I trust them to believe I’m not evoking the gluten card to get special attention.
Every day, I packed my lunch bag with an apple, tuna, soda and so on. Every day, I was awestruck to meet dozens of students—hundreds, total—learning about food allergies, celiac disease and other dietary restrictions.
Silent and pernicious, the trickster stalked me through high school where the sensation of broken glass in my stomach was blamed on the upcoming SATs. It followed me to college and into a stint in fashion where razor thinness wasn’t cause for alarm. Celiac disease, not the stress of an advertising career, was the culprit behind my constant low-level queasiness. I was 32 when it cracked my right radius. I never saw it coming.
Sandra Beasley is the author of three collections of poetry and Don’t Kill the Birthday Girl: Tales from an Allergic Life (Crown). She lives in Washington, DC.