Leena Eats, Gourmet Communication ... Food, Travel, Gastronomy

I hate celiacs. Specifically, the celiac in my office. Celiac’s disease is when you are allergic to gluten, which is the elastic protein that gives all breads their shape. It exists in everything from donuts to cakes to pasta, and for anyone who suffers from it, they know, it sucks pretty hard. And I love food. I also hate to think that fellow food lovers could possibly be forced to forgo all bread, all pizza, all that deliciousness, so I try every now and then to help out this little celiac when I can. I gave her a Gourmet article on baking for celiacs. I made her gluten free cookies last Christmas. I even found a pizza place that delivers gluten free pizza that is actually pretty good. Too bad this particular celiac was born to bitch. My desk is in front of her office (I work as an office slave for THE MAN), and all day, from the second I get in to the second I leave; I know how she is feeling, because she is loud and crass and shares her every thought with the office. She talks to herself mainly, but just so damn loud, it is hard not to know everything about her. So we had probably the 3,000nth corporate breakfast since I started working here, and of course, I had to order it. The boss wanted to go with something different, and I was looking out for the celiac who ALWAYS whines when we order donuts and bagels, so we went with a fruit and cheese tray with a basket of crackers and toast on the side. Gluten-free, filling yet light, and thank god, not one gram of transfat, which was beautiful sight to my ibs-filled eyes. And the first comment I got about the new set up? The celiac screams out to the office, “oh my god! What the hell is this? This is pathetic!” So I do my best to explain to her that the boss wanted something different, and I pointed out all the gluten-free goodness. And you know what she said? “I would rather have donuts.” “But you can’t eat donuts.” “I don’t care, I don’t want this crap!” Well, gee thanks. I know what she does is way more important than a lowly receptionist like myself, but damn it, I went out of my way to help her out a bit, and this is what I get, an ungrateful spoiled little wench of a celiac who wouldn’t appreciate a good deed if it slapped her in the face and called her sally. She would probably complain it didn’t get her name right. I would really like to shove a donut where the gluten-free sun don’t shine on the celiac from hell. Or maybe I?ll just sprinkle a little flour on our next staff meal. You can’t really complain when your throat is swollen shut. Yeah. I know. I?m going to hell. ~LTG