Lactose Prohibition

One of the hardest things about living without milk is being around those who live with milk and other dairy products. Some experiences stand out more than others; all are a drag.

I can remember traveling with my husband and son about 10 years ago in Florence, Italy, where some of the world’s best gelato is purportedly made. They told me it was like heaven on earth, and from the looks on their faces, I believed them.

I think about dining out with friends or family, and finding way too many items on the menu with either cheese or a cream sauce in it or on it. I tire of asking my servers if a delicious-sounding dish has any dairy in it, and wonder if they are weary themselves of my dietary peculiarity. 

I have learned to read packaging and labels very carefully, and look for “hidden” lactose - things like whey, creme fraiche, foreign cheese names, even yogurt bothers my digestive tract. Sigh.

When invited to someone’s home for a meal, I must diplomatically remind them or inform them of my dairy limitations. They are always quite gracious, but part of me knows that they now must begin frantically revising their menu. I always offer to bring some homemade items of my own, to ease their lactose-free quandary, and to ensure that there is food there that I will eat (and like).

I often wonder what it was like during Prohibition, when all Americans were forbidden to drink alcohol? Sometimes I liken my LI to this imposed alcohol moratorium . The movement did not get rid of peoples’ desire to drink; just as Lactose Intolerance does not remove my yearning for dairy products. In fact, like those who lived during the Prohibition, my desire for the “illegal” substance better known as dairy grows and grows.

So, I continue my search for recipe substitutions and adaptations. This blog is my speakeasy and my refuge, because I cannot resist trying to satisfy my never-ending dairy urges.