Why I No Longer Cook for People with Dietary Requirements (Except When They’re Dying)
Big or small cooking frustrations—sometimes you just have to let them out. And that’s what we offer a platform for. This time, it’s Lindsey who is venting. The home cook from Utrecht, a ‘mother of one and a sourdough starter’, is allergic to picky eaters. ‘I cook to bring people together, but these days there’s a disclaimer.’
‘The other day, I hosted a dinner at home. Small, cozy, good wine, candlelight, beautifully set table. I had really gone all out: slow-cooked ossobuco, homemade tagliatelle, citrus panna cotta for dessert. But before I’d even taken off my apron, the dietary requirements started coming in: “By the way, I don’t eat gluten anymore.”, “Can you keep the sauce separate for me, because I don’t do lactose?”, “I’m following keto, so preferably no pasta.” And, to top it all off: “Oh yes, I eat vegan on weekdays.”
I’ve reached the point where I no longer cook for people with dietary requirements. Period. Unless they’re in hospital. Or on their deathbed. Or can actually show me a doctor’s note confirming a life-threatening allergy.
Food is a celebration, not a spreadsheet
Food is my language of love. But I’ve stopped translating that language into fourteen dietary versions of one dish. Of course, if someone has coeliac disease or a genuinely severe intolerance: full respect. Not a crumb of gluten in sight. But that’s rare. What do I see a lot? People who use their diet as a moral superpower, as if they’re above the plebs of ordinary eaters. I’ve seen it among professional chefs too. They’re going crazy over it as well! Guests who say they’re not allowed gluten and then proceed to eat the entire bread basket. Why?
You can choose anything, just not at my dinner
By all means, choose raw vegan intermittent fasting paleo low-carb—I’m not getting involved. But don’t come to my house for dinner and expect me to prepare a separate mise en place for six dietary constructions. As if I’m working in the kitchen of a wellness retreat in Ibiza, rather than my small Utrecht kitchen with an oven that’s only been working halfway since 2021.
Food is sharing, food is enjoyment, and yes, sometimes that means butter, gluten and everything your coach says “doesn’t vibrate at the right frequency.”
What happened to simply eating good food?
People used to come over for dinner and say: “Oh, that smells delicious!” These days it’s: “Is there sugar in that?”, “Is that real Parmesan?” and: “I’m trying to avoid nightshades for a while.”
What am I trying?! I’ve spent 5 hours cooking and €30 on olive oil I don’t even dare use myself. And then you end up eating only a few radishes from the starter?!
“But I feel so much better without gluten”
Great. Then just bring your own food. I’m done letting my kitchen happiness be held hostage by other people’s gut feelings. My kitchen is not an allergy laboratory. And yes, I know this is polarizing. But just like pineapple on pizza: you either love it or hate it.
Invitation with a disclaimer
These days, I invite people over with the disclaimer: “I’m cooking what I want. If that’s a problem, bring your own Tupperware.” The atmosphere at the table has been relaxed, cheerful and surprisingly gluten-full ever since. And yes, sometimes someone is a little grumpy because there’s no raw cauliflower rice. But that’s fine. You can’t make everyone happy, especially not when you’re trying to do it with a puff pastry quiche.
I no longer cook for restrictions. Only for pleasure. And believe me: it still tastes best of all. With Christmas approaching, maybe this is an idea for you too?’
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