Personal Narrative Essay: Gluten Free

“Is that Gluten Free” I asked shamefully at a birthday party when I was six. I was only met with a puzzled look, and a question about what gluten is. I quickly replied “does it have wheat, oats, barley, or rye?” A list of simple grains in numerous everyday foods that had been drilled into my head. I was always that weird kid at the party with a different cupcake or strange snack. During lunch in kindergarten, every kid would pull out their goldfish, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cookies. I forgot what it felt like to have something smell so delicious, I could hardly fathom that I could eat it. After endless years of trial and error , my mom finally got gluten free cooking down to a tee. I was consistently amazed (although sometimes utterly disappointed) at the food my mom would make. She now knows the ins and outs of baking gluten free. We were nearly attached at the hip anytime she stepped into the kitchen.
After having seen delectable, forbidden food inches from me, I wanted a gluten free alternative that wouldn’t be a chore to eat. Following many failed attempts, my mom perfected her yellow cake recipe and eating it, I had a revelation, food is supposed to taste good! Following my first mouthwatering meal, my
I went to make bagels recently and while I was mixing the dough I realized that I needed more water. The thing about any bread product is that water needs to be at a specific temperature to activate the yeast, if it’s even ten degrees too hot or cold, your bread won’t rise and you’ll be eating a hockey puck. Had I taken time to have the water at the right temperature, I would not have a dozen inedible rings, resembling bagels, sitting on my counter right now. Taking extra time to ensure you have everything you need for something may make a considerable difference in the