These are the voyages of the Celiac Tom, continuing my mission to explore strange new restaurants and other eateries, to boldly go where no Celiac has gone before.
I found myself in St. Augustine, Florida over the holidays, wandering aimlessly in search of a restaurant for dinner along with 9 other family members. It was about 8pm - not an ideal time to start the hunt for food in a heavily trafficked tourist town. The early crowd from the Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum was out and ravenous from their viewing of Martha Stewart's Tiny Egg, and Ponce de Leon's Fountain of Youth had just closed, so seats at tables were at a premium.
Trying to get 9 people to agree on anything, especially a restaurant choice is about as easy as nailing Welch's Squeezable Grape Jelly to a wall. So in the interest of eating before the 2010 holiday season, I elected to abstain from voting on restaurant selection. After all, this is Man vs. Celiac, so I saw an opportunity for a new and unforeseen challenge, and put myself at the mercy of group think. Family group think.
Bad idea.
We ended up at a pizza and Italian place called PizzAlley's. That's what I get for ducking out of the group decision making process. Like crime, indifference doesn't pay. Trying to find a gluten free meal at a place that orders flour by the metric ton is kind of like playing russian roulette with all 6 cylinders loaded. Sometimes you just have to admit defeat.
So I settled on one of the few safe bets in my repertoire. Times 3. It's OK, Aunt Rissy drove home.
Got a little Captain in ya?
