Yesterday in Delray, before my appointment with my dermatologist (four stitches above my left eyebrow), Hania and I had lunch at a restaurant on Atlantic Avenue. The menu noted which dishes were gluten-free and Hania, a celiac, ordered the seared tuna with soba noodles. But she asked the server to doublecheck with the chef to make sure the noodles were gluten-free, as manufacturers often add wheat flour to the buckwheat.
The waiter seemed a bit confused. Knowledge about gluten among restaurant workers seems to have declined, perhaps because non-celiacs have decided that the downsides of giving it up - the loss of fresh bread, good bagels, crusty pizza, tasty beer - outnumber the benefits.
A short while later he returned holding a bag of soba noodles and – as if unable to read the ingredients himself – handed it to Hania. She read them and then showed them to me: “Wheat flour, buckwheat flour, water.” She explained to the waiter that wheat – along with rye and barley – is precisely what she’s not allowed to eat. She asked to see the manager.
The manager appeared even more clueless than the waiter. Hania gave him the same explanation she’d given the waiter, and told him he should take the GF off of the seared tuna entrée. Otherwise, she said, some diners might get sick and sue the restaurant. He said he would, but he looked a little dubious. Hania ordered the scallops with quinoa.
When we go back next week to have the stitches removed, we’re going to check and see if the menu’s been changed. My guess is it won’t be.
