Over the past few years, I have developed an adverse reaction to a seemingly innocuous question: “Are there any allergies or dietary restrictions?”
I pause each time I hear it, steeling myself for what might follow my reply.
Sometimes, it’s laughter. Say from someone who knows me well enough to have read my cookbook—with its slow-roasted salmon covered in chimichurri on the cover—but not to have been updated on my ongoing medical saga. Other times, it’s disbelief, as from the sushi host who presumed I just don’t like the Northwest’s star seafood. “But the chef gets this straight from a fisherman up in…,” he started. I may have looked
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