triggered my stomachaches (although in retrospect, my constant ingestion of cheese and other dairy products should have clued me in) every meal was a risk. Was it red meat? Poultry? Wheat? Too many carbs? Each time I put something into my mouth there was a potential for pain. My attitude toward food was fraught with feelings of longing and wariness. Furthermore, the constant pain in my stomach made me feel like a whiner, a high-maintenance, anxious weirdo. Antacids were my constant companions. When I read somewhere that peppermint tea was good for the digestion, I drank it by the cupful with reverence and hope, but to little avail. My parents were torn between worried concern and utter exasperation. How, they wondered, could one girl always have a stomachache? I wondered it myself and learned to live with it.
aaaaSo it was with equal parts relief and sadness when I finally figured out what was causing my pain, thanks to my father-in-law, who finally asked the question, "How does she feel when she drinks a glass of milk?" Answer: "Ew." I reluctantly bid farewell to my love and my antagonist. Who wants to believe that something we enjoy so much could cause us harm? Oh, feckless, darling Parmesan! And so I entered a new phase of eating that just happened to coincide with turning thirty and happened to involve me restricting chocolate chip cookies from my diet. So long old friends. Nowadays, when I want to or have no other choice but to eat dairy, I do so moderately and cautiously, and by taking a pill that mimics the lactose enzyme. I have embraced vegan products, but they come with their own set of problems, one being that they often taste like cardboard and the other being that soy is also hard to digest. Who knew?! And I still get stomachaches.
aaaaFood is one of the ways that we experience the world, a way to learn about those around us. Food teaches us about other cultures. It teaches us about ourselves. When we talk about food we often are talking about something else--our families, our religions, our moral and ethical beliefs. When we eat together, we are crafting viable, personal connections. Therefore, when I determined that dairy was not to be a part of my diet any more, one of the ways in which I learned about the world and interacted with others--through eating--was altered forever. My husband, who has been a vegetarian for twelve years and who only occasionally craves meat, says I will get used to living without cheese, but I'm not so sure. For him, vegetarianism was a choice based on his moral beliefs, but for me, giving up dairy was simply a physical necessity. Yes, it's a whole new world, now that I realize what was causing me pain, but the thought of never being able to eat a real slice of pizza again still fills me with panic. More importantly, I have begun to think about how our food restrictions--his kosher vegetarianism and various food allergies, and my lactose-intolerance--will affect the children we will hopefully have one day. Parents' model behavior for their children and children learn about the world through eating. Will we be able to foster a healthy enjoyment for food and an adventurous palate in our children? Will they inherit our allergies and therefore our restrictions? And if so, will this make them cautious in other, significant ways?
aaaaRuth Reichl writes in the March 2007 issue of Gourmet, "Sitting down to dinner, at any age, should be an invitation to the fabulous banquet that is life. The most important lesson we learn at the table is that great rewards await those who take chance." The small challenge I now face as I venture deeper into my thirties is to reclaim a sense of adventurous eating, to take some dairy-free chances. My fabulous banquet is out there, just laid out slightly differently than it used to be, and I intend to find it.