GRANDMA MIMI—THAT’S ME. Since the birth of my granddaughter, Ella, I’d been doing a lot of cooking for my daughter, Emily, and her husband, Andy. But I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it up. Their nondairy restriction really limited my menu options, and I’d been serving the same three soups and chilis in rotation. A bowl of hardy chili made for a delicious dinner in chilly mid-November, but not three times a week!
I stood in my kitchen, going over my favorite recipes. Again. Maybe I had missed something that I could use. Baked ziti with mozzarella and Parmesan? Nope. Casseroles? All my standbys included cheese or cream or both. And what about butter? How could I make cookies without butter? “This is impossible,” I muttered.
When friends had talked about relatives who couldn’t eat gluten or meat I felt lucky not to have any picky eaters in my family. And I hardly understood why anyone would choose restrictions voluntarily. Vegetarians were challenged enough as far as I was concerned, and I knew some people went a step further as vegans, avoiding any animal products whatsoever. I found myself in uncharted territory.
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