How others’ allergies change what you eat
I’m standing in a space the width of an airplane aisle, staring at frying oils. It’s the kitchen of Next Door, one of the country’s most-high-profile casual restaurant companies, at its location in Stapleton, a Denver neighborhood. Until now, I’ve given very little thought to frying oils. But I’m on a quest for understanding: to get behind the scenes in a kitchen that is equally friendly to gluten-free, vegetarian, vegan and various food-allergic customers as it is to everybody else.
At Next Door, eating restrictions don’t just pepper the menu, signaled through such acronyms as “GF” (gluten-friendly), “DF” (dairy-free), “V+” (vegan) and “GFO (gluten-friendly optional). They downright define it. Instead of topping a salad with nuts, Next Door chefs sprinkle on sunflower seeds. Before frying calamari or pickles and pepperoncini, they dredge them in cornstarch or polenta, respectively, instead of the traditional wheat flour. For their veggie bowl, they use quinoa, because it’s a whole grain that doesn’t have gluten.
The chefs also use three separate fryers for dishes that are vegan, vegetarian or that contain gluten and/or seafood (for their twice-weekly beerbattered fish tacos). Nothing gets cooked in the wrong oil. For customers getting the gluten-free hamburger bun, chefs use a different toasting surface. On “the line,” little buckets of salad toppings are arranged to avoid cross-contamination — bacon and dairy toward the bottom row so as not to drop into the innocent ingredients.
Peanuts aren’t allowed on the premises. Period.
Next Door illustrates just one of many ways food sensitivities are driving the culinary decision-making of entire operations: Rather than juryrigging dishes to respond to special needs, chefs have engineered many menus from the start to eschew everything from soy to gluten. And most customers don’t have a clue.
You’ve probably seen pizza places
menus say in fine print “gluten-free dough available upon request.” Or maybe you’ve had the waiter who, like a customs agent, asks at the beginning of the meal if anyone has allergies to declare.
But after learning about Next Door’s approach, it dawned on me: The afflictions of the minority are starting to determine the options for the majority.
And I can’t help but wonder: In response to the dramatic rise in ingredient intolerance — both real and perceived — among American consumers, are all of us bound to be eating less of the foods that, for generations, were the staples of civilization? What does this mean for the future of dining?
The eight ingredients that most commonly trigger food allergies are milk, eggs, fish, shellfish, tree nuts, peanuts, wheat and soybeans. (Gluten is a protein found in wheat, along with barley, rye and triticale.) About 8 percent of children and 5 percent of U.S. adults have a food allergy. The rate of people with such allergies is doubling about every decade, and about a quarter of them will have a near-fatal reaction at some point in their lives. About 1 percent of Americans have celiac disease, 6 percent have non-celiac gluten sensitivity and 33 percent are trying to avoid gluten.
Across the country, campus dining operations offer options for students seeking every designation: kosher, halal, vegetarian, vegan. But this year, Cornell University opened an entire dining hall with no trace of glu- ten, tree nuts or peanuts. At Columbia University, nuts have been removed from all recipes at two dining halls. There, dining directors created “nut zones,” where students use special utensils and dishes to, say, make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or sprinkle walnuts on a salad.
In case you haven’t noticed, eggs, peanuts, tree nuts, shellfish and fish — five of the top eight food allergens — are nowhere to be found at Chipotle. The same is true of gluten at the Little Beet, a New York-based chain with locations in the District of Columbia.
According to Datassential, nearly 26 percent of U.S. restaurant menus now have a “gluten-free” call-out. That’s a 182 percent increase over four years. Most chefs never used to be so accommodating. But today, even in upscale dining realms, options abound.
Next Door was founded in Boulder in 2011 and has five locations in Colorado, one in Memphis, Tenn., and one coming soon to Indianapolis. Co-founder Kimbal Musk has received the lion’s share of the press, but to understand the magic, you have to look to the culinary director, Musk’s right-hand man, who is shaping the dishes. Merlin Verrier came to Next Door after a career in fine dining, having earned several Michelin stars; he’s cooked for celebrities including the Obamas and Oprah Winfrey.
Along with teaching techniques for building flavor — he’s a self-declared “texture freak” — he’s training his growing team to build in allergy and intolerance awareness from the start, as the core of the menu R&D. “Gluten-free outweighs everything, in our opinwhose ion,” Verrier said.
Enemy No. 2 is peanuts. Just over a year ago, Next Door eliminated peanut oil. It’s a go-to frying oil in restaurants given its mild flavor and high smoke point, Verrier said, but he switched entirely to canola oil.
It’s a point of pride, he said, that parents of kids with peanut allergies who won’t go to other restaurants feel safe coming to Next Door.
Soy is also not allowed on the premises. No soy milk, no soy sauce. Soy sauce often contains wheat, so it’s a no-go for gluten dodgers, too.
Many of the top eight food allergens — including almonds, whole wheat and salmon — are among the healthiest of foods. In prioritizing food safety for the few, I worry that nutrition for the many might suffer.
I confess to Ruchi Gupta, a food-allergy researcher and pediatrician at Lurie Children’s Hospital of Chicago and Northwestern Medicine, that I’m worried that the most shunned items could gradually drop out of the food supply and that lack of exposure could make more people sensitive to them.
On the first front, she said, my fears are unfounded: She considers the top eight such established staples that even if every restaurant changed its menu, she can’t imagine grocery stores would ever stop selling them.
On the second front, while unlikely, the science is not yet settled, she said. More research is needed.
Still, the prevalence of “free-from” labels is normalizing food intolerance across the population. They give the impression that there must be something wrong with everyone.