It occurs to me that even though I am gluten-free and
happily embrace the gluten-free lifestyle, I have still looked at the world
through wheat-prejudiced eyes. Having
grown up with a constant supply of wheat products, I have been tainted. My eyes look for a certain color in baked
goods. My nose anticipates a certain
wheaty-yeasty odor. My mouth searches
for the wheaty-sweet flavor. My ears
twitch at the sound of the sigh a wheat dough makes when being punched
down. My hands reach for the velvety and
stretchy smoothness of wheat products.
I wasn’t even aware of this for the longest time. All of my baking experience--all of my
life!--was centered around wheat.
Because of this, I never even considered there were other possibilities
for food preparation. It’s not that I chose
to avoid other possibilities. I simply
didn’t even know they existed. What a
small world I lived in.
Then I was forced into a strange new place without wheat and
had to fend for myself. But how to do
this when I brought all of my subconscious wheat prejudices with me?
It begins with the beginning. Everyone who goes gluten-free begins at this
point. We search out other grains. We turn our noses up to many of them because
they don’t smell like they’re “supposed” to.
Our eyes are assaulted with bizarre colors. Our hands feel strange and sometimes gritty
or lumpy textures. Our ears search in
vain for the sizzle or sigh of what they have known. Our mouths turn down sadly seeking that sweet
(and addictive!) flavor they cannot find.
That’s how it starts.
We find other things and get disappointed. Then we get over it and move on to the next
phase.
“We will make these flours behave the way we want them
to!” We force them to do our will. We add xanthan gum or guar gum or chia
slurries to make them stretchy. We often
add unnecessary yeast to make them mimic a reminiscent flavor. We grind them and beat them mercilessly to
make them more pleasing to the eyes and hands.
“You will be wheat,” we say, “and you will like it!!”
And off we go, baking until our hearts are content. We start humbly and then get more skillful
and daring. We grab our old wheat
recipes and say, “Yes! We can still do
this!” Sure enough, as time goes by, we
produce some pretty wonderful things.
Not quite what we remembered, but still delicious. We proclaim ourselves the victors. And in a way we are the victors. We have taken a sad state of affairs--not
being able to eat what the entire nation eats and what our society is built
upon--and made it into something that rivals (and occasionally surpasses) the
grain we cannot have. We proclaim to the
world, “I am normal (again).”
That’s the second step.
It’s a good step because it builds confidence and releases anxiety, but
it’s only a step. Many people stop
here. And why not? If you’re happy with what you can make or
buy, if it pleases you and excites your senses, why shouldn’t you stop right
here? The answer is that it is perfectly
fine and wonderful to stop right here.
Unless you’re haunted, like me. The day I realized that I had brought my
wheat prejudices with me into every culinary attempt I made was a real eye
opener. I realized that while I had been
so busy forcing and beating the other grains, I couldn’t hear what they had to
tell me over the din of my own wheat-crazed fury. Sadly, I didn’t even know they were talking
to me. Now that’s prejudice.
But what if we lived in a world where wheat had never
entered? What if we lived in a world
without wheat prejudice, a world where we explored each new grain or bean
completely, coaxing out its own unique qualities? What would this feel like? What sort of culinary feats could we attempt
by discovering what other grains had to offer without expecting them to behave
in a manner inconsistent with their nature?
The answer is all around us, hidden as usual in plain sight.
There are so many societies that have
already lived like this, developing their own unique gastronomic
experiences. But they are fading--fading
because they, too, have been inundated and hypnotized by cheap and addictive
wheat imports and a dominant wheat culture that tells them what is best for
them (and isn’t).
Our job then is to resurrect what has been lost and preserve
what is still practiced by these societies.
Look to India
for their dosas and idlis made with fermented rice and urad dal batter and also
their papads. Look to Ethiopia for
their sponge-like injera. Look to China for their
cellophane noodles made from bean starch.
And so on and so on. There are so
many wondrous foods made from as many wondrous grains and beans, just waiting
to be rediscovered. However, we must
rediscover these delicacies without the prejudiced “wheat eye” being cast upon
them.
We must take in the new aromas and textures of these other
products. We must slide them along our
tongues like we would any new food offered to us without expectation, just an inquisitive
nature. We must watch and hear how they
react to different cooking and baking processes as we would with eyes and ears
seeing a new Broadway play for the first time.
What wonderful memories will be bestowed upon us? What will become our new cherished
traditions? This and much more lies before
us as we head out on our unexpected journey, finally unburdened by the heavy
mantle of wheat.
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