Can I cook you dinner?

When people offer to cook for me, I usually politely decline. I know they mean well, and I love when people cook for me – but the reality is that “wanting to cook for someone” usually means you want to cook from your specialty repertoire, which won’t include anything I can eat.

“You can just bring me some organic berries if you like,” I tell people. This is usually pretty fool-proof – unless they aren’t attentive and buy moldy ones.

What can be even harder is turning down healthy, home-cooked meals in someone’s home – something they’ve already made and are sure will meet anyone’s criteria.

“It’s vegan,” they’ll tell me.

I smile and nod and say, “No thank you, it smells lovely but I really can’t.”

“Are you already full?”

“No, I just have a very sensitive body,” I’ll say.

“This is gluten-free and free of refined sweeteners too,” they’ll add.

My smile will deepen, because I’m glad people are cooking healthier and making more accommodations for others; I’m glad that they want to feed me and that they’re a generous person. But my sense of guilt and frustration will also be on the rise at this point. I’m trying to be polite, kind, enthusiastic, and honest all at the same time. Why is that so hard?

I take a second glance at the dish and become more specific now, “I can’t have quinoa.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. I’ve got some curried rice in the fridge I could heat up for you.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t eat pseudo grains – or most seeds, including beans and most nuts.”

At this point I’ve given up on full honesty, because it is too difficult to be both polite and honest. With most food intolerance it isn’t just a matter of what you “can” and “can’t” have but a matter of quantity, timing, and combination. 

Quantity

Technically, I could eat most nuts – in small enough quantities. But those quantities are so unrealistically small. And while we expect our friends to get to know us fairly well, we don’t expect them to memorize that we can tolerate around a quarter cup of almond butter in a day – but not all at once – and it must be cooked and mashed almonds, not raw or whole almonds, but if it were walnuts or pecans then the quantity drops to more like a tablespoon. It’s hard enough for individuals with irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) or MAST cell activation syndrome (MCAS) to keep their own sensitivities straight – much less expect their friends and family to understand.

Timing

For many people with digestive problems, timing becomes crucial. You learn that eating within four hours of bedtime will lead to acid reflux later, or that eating something too potent first thing in the morning will leave you aching for hours. Intermittent fasting – the practice of eating within a limited time frame each day – has grown in popularity because of how much more freedom you can gain in what you eat simply by limiting when you eat. For six years I maintained a six-hour eating window – only eating from noon to six. This, at least, dodged the food offers because most evening social events were outside my window. Unfortunately, this meant I always wound up watching other people eat whilst denying myself.

Combination

Food timing is also relevant when thinking about food combining. Knowing which foods digest quickly (simple sugars such as those in fruits), and which foods take a long time (complex proteins and fats such as those found in nuts or meat), can help you line up your intake to prevent unwanted bloating and gas. By eating fruits first and allowing thirty to fifty minutes to pass before eating an entrée of vegetables and chicken, you may avoid a night of gas pains.

Cooking for Sensitive People

But wouldn’t it be nice if my friends could cook for me? I certainly love it on the very rare occasion it happens. One friend planned to make a grape pie and asked me what ingredients she could use. She listened, remembered, and brought a delicious pie which was delightful – and didn’t give me unpleasant symptoms afterward.

That happy grape pie experience was, sadly, the exception rather than the norm. Another friend of mine had wanted to bring me a birthday pie (in place of a cake, of course), and she used principles she thought matched my diet without actually checking with me on the particulars. I ate a couple bites but knew I didn’t dare more, and even those couple bites were regrettable later.

Such experiences can be mortifying. Here’s someone who cares about you, wants to please you, and went through a fair bit of effort and expense to bring you something you might like – and they failed. How can you be honest and kind in situations like these? Of course we try our best, “Oh, this is so beautiful and smells so good. I can only have a little, but I’m so glad you thought of me and brought this to share!” In the cases where I couldn’t even have a little it has been even harder to give a convincingly kind reaction. How do I cover up my disappointment? How can casual friendships recover from incidents like these?

The best solution I’ve found is avoiding them in the first place: I ask for berries when offered, and, for exceptional cases, I have one other trick up my sleeve: a spreadsheet containing a full list of what I can and can’t have – clearly delineated. Usually this intimates the would-be chef, and that’s fine. I have decided that it’s better that they don’t try than trying, failing, and making us both feel embarrassed. And if they do try, they’ll have my searchable, organized, detailed list to refer back to.

You can see – and utilize – my food list by clicking here. Make a copy of my list and then replace my answers with yours. Change the sharing settings so that “anyone with a link” can view. You’re now prepared the next time someone offers to cook for you.