This is a story about Thanksgiving, and it begins with a sausage. It is a cautionary tale.
Large gatherings of friends and family involve food. That often means having to consider food restrictions, everything from allergies to vegan diets to religion- or health-based food preferences. The whole thing is more fraught than some family relationships. It’s not just an issue for the hosts – how much do you accommodate diet issues? What’s the etiquette? – but also for guests. Do you communicate your preferences beforehand? What happens if you arrive and can’t (or prefer not to) eat the food being served? And if you offer to (or are asked to) bring your own food item, what should it be?
Enter the sausage. Recently, some friends invited me for a lobster dinner. They know I’m allergic to shellfish, but my husband was away and they kindly wanted to include me in a casual Friday-night gathering.
“Could you bring some protein for yourself?” the wife asked me politely over the phone a few days before.
“Of course,” I replied.
But on the night in question, the only protein-y thing I could find in my fridge was a sausage. An artisanal sausage, I should add, made by hand with pork, spices and little green things. Still, a sausage. I put it in a little baggie, uncooked, and off I went.
When I arrived at my friends’ beautiful house, I pressed a bottle of wine (a good one) into the hands of the hostess. And onto the counter in their gleaming, professional-looking kitchen, I surreptitiously plopped my little bag.
We sat around for a while, drinking wine, and then we were invited to take our seats at the long dining table in the large kitchen. First came a lovely vichyssoise. But then the host, who was preparing the lobsters at the stove, spied the sausage and held it aloft in its little bag, pinched at the edge between two fingers as though it might be something unpleasant belonging to a dog.
“What’s this?” he asked, looking a little alarmed.
Heads swivelled in my direction. And I had to explain. The allergy. Empty fridge. On my own. Hadn’t been food shopping etc. Everyone laughed.
My sausage was worse than a date who embarrasses you with poor table manners. Immediately, I began silently berating myself – for not bringing something already cooked that just needed warming up, for not having made an effort to bring something nice for myself. Somehow, I had managed to not only alert everyone to my lazy food habits (I’ve been known to eat a boiled egg for supper when I’m on my own) but also diminish the hospitality standards of my hosts. Bringing a lonely sausage in a sack to a dinner party – even if it’s just for yourself – was like showing up to a dinner party in my nightie (which, thankfully, I haven’t been known to do).
The host, being a gracious man, made no fuss. As other guests were presented with succulent lobsters, my sausage arrived, perfectly cooked, sliced lengthwise with a drizzling of hastily-prepared mustard sauce and a scattering of fresh cilantro as decoration. There was a garden salad and, later, cheeses and dessert.
It was delicious and I had more than enough to eat. But from that experience, I have pulled together some guidelines for guests and hosts on this issue of food restrictions.
To start, communication is key. Allergies are the most important to discuss. I have a niece who is fatally allergic to nuts, so we know to be extra careful by checking all cooking oils, everything, when she comes over. People with severe allergies are bound to tell the hostess at the time of invitation. Even so, as hostess, it’s good to ask ahead of time.
When someone asks me, for instance, I mention the shellfish problem. “I get very sick but I don’t die,” is how I usually characterize it. Because it’s not severe, I tend not to bring it up unless I’m asked, but I actually think I should. I usually manage to quietly avoid the sautéed-scallop appetizer without anyone noticing, but on the occasions when I’ve had to turn down some shellfish-y, seafood-y main course, I’ve only served to embarrass the hostess when no alternative is available.
I am of two minds on the vegetarian issue. It’s a handy thing for the hostess to know, but I don’t think the vegetarian should expect a gourmet accommodation of their diet. I do find it a bit precious for someone to make a fuss about it beforehand. This view is likely due to having grown up in a sort of old-school family in which we children (five of us) were expected to eat everything on our plates. It would be shockingly impolite, for example, to turn down anything on your grandparents’ table: You just swallowed your food opinions along with that nasty slice of ham. (As children, we were also expected to ask our father for permission to be excused from the table. Like I said, very old-school, and also, in the context of modern life, rather quaint.)
Still, there’s something to be said for being a generous hostess who thinks about the comfort of her guests. One Thanksgiving, one of my sons brought a vegetarian girlfriend home, giving me the dietary heads-up beforehand. Wanting to make a good maternal impression, I produced a tofu alternative for her. It was horrible. Since the rubber tofu incident, I’ve generally presented vegetarians with a nice, small lasagna, store-bought.
Is that mean? I don’t think so. We’re a bird family on major holidays such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. And once a traditional bird family, always a traditional bird family. What I’d appreciate from vegetarian guests is for them to offer to bring an interesting protein dish. It would be a fun way of sharing food ideas. If you decide to bring something just for yourself, first ask your host if that’s okay. When they say yes, remember the tale of my sausage.
On the issue of guests’ other food preferences – not allergies, but choices – frankly, they’re just not my problem. I follow the advice I once read in Bon Appétit magazine. Remember that you are their host, not their nutritionist. Nor is my home a restaurant. Forget about preparing meals with special needs for each guest. Just make sure there are options. I, too, have gone on obsessive cleanses, avoiding sugar, gluten, dairy, meat and alcohol. It can be fun and interesting to find alternatives, some of which, such as quinoa dishes and a vegan “meatloaf,” we now eat regularly and often serve at parties.
But when you’re a guest, you eat at the generosity of your hosts, in their home with their traditions and their menu choices. In the spirit of the holiday, just be thankful.
Shopping list: Where to buy foods for the sensitive
One-stop allergen-free shop
Feast is a one-year-old west Toronto food store run by husband-and-wife team Neil Lomas (a chef) and Wendy Zeh (a nurse). Everything is free of peanuts, nuts, fish, shellfish and wheat, and a number of items don’t contain dairy, egg or soy. There are cereals, pastas, condiments and spreads, plus spices from gluten-free facilities and Lomas’s delicious doughnuts and handheld pies (the jerk chicken is especially tasty). An online shop ships non-perishable food items across Canada and pies across the GTA (the Hospital for Sick Children’s specialty shop, www.specialtyfoodshop.ca, will deliver the pies across the country). 881 Queen St. W., Toronto, 647-350-1881, thisisafeast.com
No gluten, no soy, no problem
Vegan and gluten-free bakeries are popping up all over the country, but most of their offerings are restricted to cupcakes and cookies. Savoury fans will be happy to hear that Vancouver’s The Gluten Free Epicurean has pizzas and sandwiches, as well as take-home pot pies, bagels, buns, pizza dough (plus plenty of sweets, including shortbread, cakes and doughnuts, as well as pie shells and baking mixes for the home cook). 633 E 15th Ave., Vancouver, 604-876-4114, glutenfreeepicurean.ca
Carb me
Everything at both locations of Toronto’s Bunner’s bake shop is 100-per-cent vegan and gluten-free. It’s best known for ooey-gooey cinnamon buns, but dense, chewy loaf breads with a hint of nutty (yet nut-free) goodness are excellent for sandwiches and other everyday eating. Out-of-towners can order a copy of the store’s namesake cookbook, which includes holiday-themed desserts such as pumpkin pie.
3054 Dundas St. W., Toronto,
647-352-2975 and 244 Augusta Ave., Toronto, 647-350-2975, bunners.ca
Killer cereal
Five years ago, Corin Mullins invented Holy Crap cereal because of her husband, Brian’s dietary restrictions. She then sold it at a farmers’ market on British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast and now runs a multimillion-dollar empire. Rock-star astronaut Chris Hadfield is a fan of the stuff, which mixes chia and hemp seeds, buckwheat, raisins, cranberries, apple and cinnamon and is free of gluten, lactose, salt, nuts and animal products (it’s even produced in a kosher facility). It’s in plenty of supermarkets and health-food stores; online orders get free shipping across Canada. holycrap.ca
Ready for this jelly
Cooks looking for a kosher, vegan or halal alternative to gelatin turn to agar agar, a flaky white substance derived from algae that turns into a jelly-like substance when mixed with water. If your local supermarket doesn’t have it, check an Asian grocer before thickening your next soup or jarring your next batch of preserves: Agar agar was first discovered in Japan in the 17th century, and was a common ingredient in Southeast Asian desserts centuries before Michelin-starred chefs got into molecular cuisine.
Not-so-secret ingredient
Unsweetened applesauce is a handy alternative to three essential baking ingredients: oil, eggs and butter. It’s a direct substitute for the fats, while 1/4 cup of applesauce equals one large egg. Making your own is easy: First wash, core, peel and coarsely chop two pounds of apples (try Gala, Fuji or Golden Delicious). Place the apples in a large pot and add just enough water to cover, then simmer over low to medium heat until the apples have softened and the water has mostly evaporated, about 30 minutes. Purée in a blender until smooth. Let cool at room temperature before using.
-Karon Liu