Columnists

Zero8 in Montreal may well be the first restaurant to offer a 100% hypoallergenic menu. While people like my husband Martin Kouprie – a peanut and legume allergy sufferer himself – have been offering allergy aware dining options for the last decade or so, this restaurant is unique in providing a full service menu that does not include any of the 8 most common food allergens:

• Fish and seafood
• Peanuts
• Nuts
• Sesame seeds
• Milk
• Soybeans
• Eggs
• Wheat and glutinous grains of any kind

So, what does that leave for people to order at Zero8? Lots. There is pasta (presumably rice or spelt noodles are used) with tomato sauce or venison ragout, duck confit, steak frites and even house-made gluten-free bread ($2 per portion). Oddly, the menu is very protein based. I’d love to see a few legume dishes such as braised lentils or a chickpea tagine, too.

Does a restaurant like this one interest you? If it does, why?

A couple of weeks I ago I traveled to Alberta to learn all about Canadian pulses. It was a great trip that will be remembered not only for good company, great weather and terrific meals, but also because I learned so much interesting information that I hope to organize into witty tidbits of scintillating prose in the coming weeks.

Although Canada is the world’s largest exporter of lentils and chickpeas, I discovered that few people – even food professionals – can confidently define this term when asked. In fact, when I told people that I was going to the pulse harvest, I got a lot of quizzical looks!

So, for your big fat information, pulses are the mature, dried edible seeds of legumes such as dried peas, beans, lentils and chickpeas. (Although soybeans are legumes they are not considered pulses due to their high fat content.)

Apparently the average Canadian eats only about 1/4 cup (50 mL) of pulses a week. How do you compare to this average?

You can tell quite a bit from this picture:

1. That I have never been called an artist and likely never will be
2. That I have also never been called a calligrapher and likely never will be
3. That I have brought home take out Indian food at least once in my life
4. And, most salient to today’s topic, that I live with someone who has food allergies.

My husband Martin is one of the 3% of adults who has a peanut allergy. He is also deathly allergic to hazelnuts and gets sick in varying degrees from eating other legumes such as lentils (pictured above as Dal Tarka), chickpeas and pine nuts.

Most of the time, we work around his allergies just fine; however, it does mean that I do a lot of label reading when I grocery shop. I cook lentils and chickpeas and buy hummus often but keep them (as illustrated above) well labeled so that Martin doesn’t inadvertently make himself sick.

When it comes to the deadly stuff (peanuts and hazelnuts), I’m a lot more careful and seldom use them at home. That said, I have to admit that I sometimes have shameful, distracting cravings for peanut butter. Since peanuts are, in essence, my hubby’s kryptonite, it seems wrong to fantasize about peanut butter and banana croque monsieurs. Wouldn’t a better woman be able to swear off this stuff out of loyalty?

A result of my day-to-day peanut butter deprivation and this deep-seeded guilt, is that when Martin is out of town, I  succumb to unabandonned peanut butter binges. The high of dipping a spoon into a jar of that sticky goodness is tempered only by the intensive, obsessive kitchen cleaning that comes afterward. It’s pathetic, but it’s who I am.

Do any of you have to cope with living with someone  who has a food allergy or such a strong aversion to certain foods that it affects your shopping and meal choices? If so, how do you run your household safely and harmoniously?

I have a confession to make and I want all of you to swear you won’t tell my husband Martin about what I’m going to say. Here’s my secret: I sometimes have overwhelming cravings for peanuts. The reason this information is classified as top secret personal beeswax is that my beloved hubby is deathly allergic to peanuts. As a result I feel very guilty about my love for this and all other legumes. It just seems like a betrayal to relish a food that could kill my man. Truthfully, a better spouse would be able to swear peanuts off in the name of loyalty, but, regrettably, peanut butter is stronger than I. The more I forbid myself, the more I crave the stuff. (Apparently it only takes one acre of peanuts to make 30,000 peanut butter sandwiches and some days I think I could eat all 30,000 myself!)

The result of my peanut butter deprivation is deep-seeded guilt mingled with longing. In fact, When Martin is out of town I admit that I succumb to the occasional peanut butter binge followed by intensive, obsessive kitchen cleaning (the next peanut fest can happen in June when he goes diving in Newfoundland!). Likewise, when I travel alone for business, it isn’t the little bottles of booze in the mini bar that I find alluring. No, it’s the cocktail peanuts. I almost always eat them before I check out.

Since misery loves company, I was pleased to discover that I’m not alone. It turns out there’s a support group for people like me. It’s called the Peanut Butter Lover’s Club. And, in NYC (where they have at least one of everything) there’s an all peanut butter restaurant called Peanut Butter & Co. Sandwich Shop.

Is peanut butter your guilty pleasure? Or do crave something even more forbidden? Come on. Don’t be shy. You can tell me.