Mourning My Losses

Pity the fool who gets between a half-starved woman and her twice-baked potato.

That's a saying, right?

Well. If it's not...then it SHOULD be.


Let's backtrack for a moment, shall we?

Friday night, we celebrated a son's birthday by heading to a local restaurant here in town, The Hereford House. Now - the Hereford House is a steak house that has been in operation in Kansas City since steak was pretty much invented. As in, forever. We don't go often, due to the sticker shock we see while perusing a menu, but the dozen or so times we've gone, it has been an absolute FAVORITE of mine.

I always, always, always begin with the house salad - not that the salad itself is spectacular, but the restaurant has the most amazing salad dressings, literally called the "Yellow" and the "Pink" - and when blended together, create absolute perfection on a bed of lettuce. This mixture is so divine, that I have always, always saved my delicious bread roll just so I can pinch little pieces and then dip in the remaining pink & yellow mixture...squee!

For my entree, I've always, always ordered the bacon-wrapped medallions of beef...they're usually succulent, moist and tender, and drenched in a demiglaze sauce that is to die for. With this, I pair a twice-baked potato that is dripping in butter, sour cream and bacon. Bliss.

For dessert, they have a white chocolate bread pudding, that soaked in rum sauce and torched with a match, melts in my mouth and leaves me perfectly sated.

This is my normal dining experience at The Hereford House.

But...this particular Friday not was not normal. Nope. My NEW normal is Gluten-Free...and this changed everything.

Arriving at the restaurant at 7:00 pm for our reservations, we wait patiently for everyone to show up - there were ten of us in all, celebrating. Once seated, Hubby quickly ordered some appetizers for everyone, and not ONCE did he even consider if it was something that I could eat. So, as trays of stuffed mushrooms and spinach artichoke dip were passed around the table, I shot DEVIL EYES in Hubby's direction, as the waiter apologetically told me none of these particular appetizers were "safe."

Soon, it was 8:00 pm, and we hadn't received our salads yet. I was starving. STARVING, I tell you. To the point that I was about ready to gnaw off my hand and take up cannibalism.

At 8:15, our salads arrived. However, the "Pink" and the "Yellow" are not gluten-free...so I was reduced to a vinaigrette dressing, that tasted pretty much like PURE vinegar. Blah. Gah. It was AWFUL. As hungry as I was, I only managed to choke down about 2 pieces of acidic lettuce before giving up and waiting impatiently for my entree.

Soon, my medallions arrived...with no sauce. Just some dry pieces of leather sitting on my plate. And no divine twice-baked potato, either - as it is not considered "safe", either. Instead, I was given some steamed vegetables.

Bleh.

For dessert, others enjoyed cheesecake and creme brûlée...while I had...nothing. Oh, I COULD have enjoyed some ice cream, but by this point, I was pretty much beyond dessert.

I WAS MAD AS HELL AND I WANTED EVERYONE TO KNOW IT.

Yes. I was mad. I was mad at my circumstances. I was mad that I can't eat what I used to eat. I was mad at the restaurant for not even attempting to serve to the Celiac population. I was mad at Hubby - well - just because. I needed to blame SOMEONE, and he was convenient.

I WAS HAVING A MAJOR-ASS PITY PARTY, AND BIRTHDAY PARTY BE DAMNED.

It SUCKS sometimes having this condition.

So...on the way home, I pretty much blew up at Hubby - it was HIS fault, I decided, for EVERYTHING. Poor Hubby. He got to listen to me vent, and cry, and whine, for a good 90 minutes. It's just not FAIR, I whined. And whined some more. Oh, the drama of it all....

Poor Hubby.

Anyway. I got over it. I know I'll have some good days - and not so good days - on this new lifestyle. It's the nature of the beast, and it will definitely take some adjustment on my part, as well as those around me.

But...in the meantime...I really DO mourn the loss of the life - or food, anyway - that I used to know.

Peace.