Donde pongo el ojo pongo la bala.
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Getting glutened…

Part of the reason I haven’t been too bummed about giving up gluten is because I honestly don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I never crave cupcakes and cookies, I really only like ONE kind of chocolate (Vosges Red Fire — all other chocolates kind of gross me out), etc. If I ever “crave” anything, it’s usually salty and acidic: think Claussen pickles or lemon wedges with salt on them… or pretty much any fruit or vegetable you can think of with lime juice.

However, there is ONE craving I had not been able to shake for over a month: I really wanted some freakin’ ribs. There’s something that’s just so satisfying about eating meat with your hands, ripping it off the bone with your teeth, savoring the slightly spicy sauce as you lick your fingers.

So this weekend, when we ended up having to go to Orlando to help our friend Fere fix something on her car, I was de-ligh-ted when George suggested we have dinner with Farah and Fere at Smokey Bones. FINALLY! My delicious, delicious ribs were going to have a party in my tummy! And imagine my delight when I asked for their gluten-free menu, and not only were the ribs safe, but all the sauces were, too!

Except, not. I have no idea what qualifies as “gluten-free” on restaurant menus, but restaurant gluten-free is decidedly NOT gluten-free. They do, however, cover their butts by stating in writing that they are not liable for any cross-contamination or any possible “changes” in their recipes. FABULOUS.

I have spent the past two days doubled over with stomach pain, battling a cold thanks to a compromised immune system, getting a rash on my face that is similar to the beginning of a lupus flare-y one, wearing sunglasses indoors because the of the massive migraines I’m dealing with, cranky, wanting to do nothing but sleep, having a hard time focusing, and bursting into tears whenever iTunes randomly shuffles to any Regina Spektor song.

Smokey Bones, you are on my shit list.