I’d make a big point about being here to stay, except Margaret is flying down to Durham to check in with her committee and to support her friend Sarah through the last stage of her prelims. Pippa and I, anyway, are here for a reasonable chunk of time.
On our drive to Vermont on Friday, we passed a sign that caught Margaret’s and my attention — something about a gluten-free bakery. Since Margaret hasn’t eaten any gluten (willingly) for twenty years or so, patiently watching as her family wolfed down pasta, pastry, sandwiches, and sundry other goodies, we observed that a stop on the way back would be well-deserved. So on yesterday’s return trip, we pulled in at Sherry Lynn’s Gluten-Free Bakery, which is actually not so much only a bakery as an honest-to-goodness restaurant.
We entered and looked warily around, at which the proprietor came up and greeted us warmly. “How much of this is gluten-free?” Margaret asked cautiously. “Everything is gluten-free,” he said firmly; “Which one is the celiac?” We indicated Margaret. He reached into a display case and grabbed a pastry. “Try this. It’s an apple cider fritter.” Margaret beamed; it was delicious, and the texture was just right — not all crumbly, as are the products of so many gluten-free recipes.
The food was terrific, but what was greatest of all was Margaret’s exhilaration at being able to order any [vegetarian] thing she saw. She wept — honest. We brought home some baked goods, and wondered how many more times we could rationalize driving all the way to Vermont.