Gluten-Free Pineapple Coconut Muffins

Tender pineapple muffins with toasted coconut.

A famous food blogger-turned-author whose foodie envied blog-to-movie deal has apparently not cultivated much compassion for those of us stricken with gluten sensitivity recently barked on Facebook, "If I have to read one more thing about going gluten free I'm going to stomp on someone's face." And more than one person agreed with her. One of her fans (also a food blogger) added, it's "too precious".

Strap on your helmets, Campers. There's not a lot of love out there.

I know this. You know this. Some of you have even shared stories with me- about not only eye-rolling waiters and could-care-less food preparers, but family members sneaking gluten into what they feed you, just to "see what happens". Just to test you.

Let me repeat that.

Family. Feeding you gluten. On purpose.

No wonder strangers feel they can openly spout contempt. If we are not respected within the bosom of our own clan, our flesh and blood, how can we expect random strangers to care?

The truth is, they don't.


Until their child gets anemic for no apparent reason. Or their young wife breaks a hip. Or their mother shrinks to skin and bones before their very eyes. Then it becomes interesting. Then the mystery becomes worthy of their attention. And they start asking questions. What is that disease called, you know the one where you can't eat bread?

Celiac disease is sadly under diagnosed. Millions have it and don't know it. And that translates to an epidemic of silent suffering- a lot of mysterious malnourishment, anemia, and osteoporosis. A lot of migraines, depression, infertility, and blistery skin rashes in unmentionable locations. A lot of bloating and Pepto Bismol chugging. But hey.

We know you don't want to hear about it.

So forgive us, please.

Forgive us for living with a autoimmune disease whose only cure is a gluten-free diet. Forgive us for focusing so much on food- our only medicine. Our breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Our daily bread. Forgive us for asking questions in restaurants. Forgive us for feeling awkward at social events where food is ubiquitous, and family parties, where your disbelief and denial can make us sick for three days.

Forgive us for getting excited when a new recipe works, and our daughter can eat a chocolate chip cookie that isn't going to make her ill. Forgive us for sending our son to school with gluten-free vegan cupcakes for the class. Forgive us for wanting our children to feel like they belong and contribute.

Forgive us our passion for gluten-free food that fills our bellies and lightens our souls. Just a little.

Because to those of us who must live gluten-free- every day of our life- food is no small thing.

Food is precious.



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