Wednesday, September 14, 2011

The Nutri-Nazi

I've been tooling around with writing a book for my mother, grandmother and daughter.  It shares stories of our experiences and shenanigans.  It needs more fleshing out, but I'm proud of what I've written so far.  This is my favorite story.

The irony, of course, is that since writing this, I realized that I have Celiac Disease.  Read on and you'll see why this is a total kick in the head...


The Nutri-Nazi

Sometime during her forties, my mom developed serious intolerances to many common foods. Though she never had an allergic reaction (hives, swelling, things requiring an epi-pen), it caused her such stomach upset that she was finding herself miserable nearly all the time. I specifically remember the summer of 1997, when she kept Mylanta in her purse and drank it directly from the bottle.

After a most fortunate and providential connection with a chiropractor, she began to change her diet and found some relief. But at what cost? The no-no list included: wheat (and to a lesser degree oats, rye and some other grains), sugar, milk, coffee (YES!), chocolate (I know!), walnuts and tea.

The severity of such a list could only compare to the intensity with which she adopted her new style of life. She completely and immediately eliminated all foods from the list and started to see real changes in her health, mood and general well-being. And, though I was happy to see she was no longer sick all the time, the sudden changes were alarming.

She replaced sugar with a naturally dehydrated sugar beet solid (“it works the same, even in recipes!”), somehow convinced herself that soy milk was just as tasty as the real thing, and bought a juicer thinking she could lure us into the fascinating prospect of beet juice.

During this time, we spent hours upon hours pawing through health food stores looking for good alternatives to the many foods she couldn't eat, some more promising than others. Some, like a particular kind of rice-based baking mix she discovered, turned out to be pretty tasty. Others, mostly things like ersatz-coffee and a chocolate-alternative known as carob, were horrifying to the extreme.

Let's just stop right here and state the obvious: there should never be such a thing as chocolate-alternative. If you can't or don't eat chocolate for whatever reason, go with fruit flavored or vanilla or something. There's simply nothing that tastes like chocolate.

It wasn't that long ago, but so much has changed since then. Today, a trip to most supermarkets will include a “natural” or “health food” aisle (Flavored soy milk!). Plus, increasing awareness to intolerances like my mom's, or the more severe celiac disorder (total allergy to gluten of any kind) has lead to all sorts of alternatives to wheat and sugar. But, when my mom started down her path, her options were bleak. I remember my revulsion when she first made “rice pizza:” a sticky, pasty disc of pure white goop topped with sliced tomatoes, soy cheese and shredded chicken.

“Mmm!” she grimaced, spooning the crust it into her reluctant mouth “It's great! It tastes just like the real thing.”

This new lifestyle challenge strained the boundaries of my mom's creativity, and at times her frustration showed through. Eating out proved particularly challenging. Years before the no-carb craze, my mom was ordering “a hamburger without the bun” subbing pasta with veggies, leaving the croutons behind on her salad plate. Visiting friends was also difficult, and I remember how she used to call ahead to clarify that she would not be able to enjoy the hostess' lasagna and chocolate cake and no, having a wheat intolerance did not mean she just couldn't eat whole-wheat bread.

She soon learned that total discipline to her new way of life was easier than sticking to the rules most of the time and eating the forbidden foods when situations or desire demanded it. This was how I came to call her the Nutri-Nazi. And though she was very generous about making her “specialty foods” separate from the rest of our menu, it was a lifestyle change that we all were aware of. As a family, she encouraged good eating habits in all of us. I didn't realize how pervasive our habits had become until I attended a reunion of my grade school gang of friends and our teacher recalled how I was always avoiding foods.

“Yeah, your mom had all kinds of crazy rules. You wouldn't eat cookies or soda or pizza or anything that kids are supposed to eat. I worried that she was in some kind of cult.”

Since then, the cult-like behavior has mostly faded. Sure, it still comes out in weird little blips she picks up from kooky online articles (“Cats naturally gravitate to the reverse polarity centers of your home”) but she has certainly toned it, and herself, down.

So, don't feel too bad for my mother. First of all, she's the hottest 56-year-old Grandma I know, she loves her way of life and her diet, and she even gets in a little fun at our expense from time to time. If you ever come to our house for dinner and you see a basket of tempting homemade muffins on the table, look out. She'll wait till the second bite is about to go down before remembering:

“Oh, that's not wheat! Yeah, no, sorry. It's rice germ sweetened with cactus flower honey. Tastes just like the real thing, right?”

No comments:

Post a Comment