Boston Pizza
Do you Americans have Boston Pizza? Anyway - big chain. Like Pizza Hut. And we went for dinner. And this is in no way a good review for our little diner here in Richmond, BC.
My hubby (the celiac) ordered directly from the allergy menu, and spoke with a lady wearing the Asst. Manager badge. She assured us her brother has this allergy. Oh, ok. She must know what she’s talking about, right? So we asked if this or that had gluten? She had to LOOK at the menu. Maybe her brother just doesn’t eat here. Or with her. Ok.
Caesar salad, without croûtons of course, is in the allergy menu as gluten free. Perfect. And there is a yummy looking chicken breast with mushrooms and mashed potatoes, all free & clear for hubby.
Salad arrives.
Get this: beneath a very top leaf of romain, is a crouton. Hubby explains that this is unacceptable. The whole thing has to be remade. The spoon used to touch the croutons has to be kept away from the utensils for the salad. Duhhh. And do you ever have those days, when you’ve been contaminated on and off for over 2 months? And you’re just plain sick of being sick? He’s such a trooper out having dinner with us because the kids wanted pizza. It is just too much. He has to forgo the salad to maintain his sanity.
It seems like a good idea for him to eat after we get home. He cancels his order, and we’ll gobble up our pizza and head home for some home-cooked, really gluten-free food.
GET THIS!!! The Asst. Manager (the one who has the brother, yeah.) comes over and says, “You came here to eat. Let me cook your meal for you.” I swear. Verbatum. That’s what she said. Right now - I’m thinking, Wahoo! You have a loyal customer for life now, lady. Can you say, TIP? 
She warns us, that of course, it will take longer for his meal to come out, as she has to clean up the counter and prep the veggies from scratch. Ok. No problem, lady. We’ll wait til midnight happy as clams!
I hate to say it - dinner came out waaaaaay too fast. It was alarming. There is no way that it was cooked from scratch. And, the dinners came out together. Not normally a problem. But there were just too many coincidences. Like perhaps a waitress had to run over and fetch the manager to deliver the meal that she was supposed to have made? Didn’t see it. Don’t know.
Mike ate half his meal, and just stopped. He didn’t feel comfortable continuing. We got 10% off our meal.
And Mike was sick as a dog for a week after. Can I just take the liberty to rant here a little? Do those restaurant people know what happens to the intestine of a celiac contaminated with gluten? Do they know that those intestines are DYING? Isn’t there a way that cavalier restaurant people could experience the pain - just for day? Huh? Huh? Maybe a few pictures of the undigested, yet digested ‘product’ plastered all over the windows would do the trick. rrrrrrr
Rant over. Still mad. And now we’re eating at home forever, or until he forgets this last episode and tries again. Gosh, he’s a trooper. And a good guy. I’m just ranting for him. Shhhhhh!
