I'm not just a picky eater

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Last week I went to a new restaurant with my friends. As I gazed at the menu, scanning for something good, I quickly realized there were very few things I would be able to eat. I called the waiter, who then called the chef. I pointed to what I thought would be a fairly safe choice and asked, “Does this dish have onions or garlic?” The chef, either American or Canadian (I couldn’t tell), told me there was only a little bit. “Oh, then I can’t have it. I have an allergy.” “Yeah, people have all kinds of preferences, you know, with the gluten and this and that.” he laughed, “Let me guess, you get a bit gassy? An allergy? Sure, we’ll go with that.”

Pause.

I have an allium allergy/intolerance. I say allergy and intolerance because my symptoms range from “a bit gassy” to vomiting and diarrhea to high fever and hives. The allium family includes garlic, onions, shallots, leeks, scallions, chives, and so on and so on and so on. It is an annoyance that is always on my mind. Every time a friend offers me a savory snack of some sort (onion powder, garlic powder), every time I’m invited to someone’s home for dinner (*sigh*do I say something or suffer in silence?), every time I’m at the supermarket reading the labels of every single packaged or prepared food, every time I go to a restaurant, every time food is involved anywhere. Allium is everywhere. Allium is in everything. Even with my steadfast attention, it sneaks in somewhere. Someone forgot to tell me the brazing sauce was simmered with whole cloves of garlic (but they were removed, so there’s no garlic, right?). Someone didn’t realize onion and garlic powder count as onions and garlic. I carry a pillbox with me chock full of pepto bismal, immodium, alka-seltzer, gas-x, and benedryl. I never know what my reaction will be on my roulette wheel of symptoms. Will I burp this delicious food for five hours? Will I spend all night sitting on the toilet with a bucket in front of me? Or will I be popping benedryl as hives envelope my arms and torso? All these things were on my mind as this insensitive chef was laughing at me.

Restart.

“It’s not funny. It’s not a preference. This food could make me seriously ill.” He mumbled something about people not understanding his sarcasm. As I resisted the urge to educate him on the difference between sarcasm and being an asshole, I think he started to realize that I had a legitimate concern and, in the end, was helpful and prepared something very delicious and safe for me to eat.

The moral of the story? Yes, some people are picky. And some people have life-threatening peanut allergies. Some have celiac disease and some just think eating a gluten-free diet is healthier. Some people really don't like garlic and some people are like me. You never know. So isn't it better to treat everyone with respect rather than contempt?

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