GALLOPIN’ GRANDMA: The Glutina Chronicles

By on August 9, 2016

Navigating the new (food) world order.

A strange young creature checks for gluten and other additives, or maybe she is receiving a message from outer space? (Photo: Gallopin’ Grandma)

A strange young creature checks for gluten and other additives, or maybe she is receiving a message from outer space? (Photo: Gallopin’ Grandma)

JACKSON HOLE, WY – I recently heard from a friend of mine in my hometown of Corn Cob, Iowa, she had won first prize in the Friday night meat raffle at Ted’s Bar and Bowl out on Highway 30. Now a meat raffle is just what it sounds like, a raffle where you win meat. She won about 25 pounds of hamburger and a couple of steaks so she decided to celebrate by having a barbeque.

She invited a few friends who all made an appearance, and then a strange couple showed. They looked for all the world like her husband’s’ loser brother and his nitwit wife, but then they didn’t. Their eyes were dead and voices hollow. They told her that they were vegans and they could not eat anything she had and to make them something they could eat. My friend knew then that their souls had been stolen away and by whom.

I received a frantic phone call, “She’s back!” my friend said. We both knew that Glutina the Awful was back. She is a scary, smug creature who is head of the committee to make sure you never get anything to eat that you like.

I had thought she might be back when I heard of the terrible happenings at St. Urdo’s Finnish Lutheran church in nearby Silo City. It was so terrifying that there were cries for exorcisms. Apparently an unknown parishioner approached Pastor Verdell and asked for a gluten-free communion wafer. Now we all know that communion wafers are made out of cardboard, except for the Presbyterians and their Wonder bread. The stranger said that the wafers were harmless until dipped in a not-so-good vintage wine or grape juice, wherein they became glutenous and one left the communion rail glutenized. “It’s the work of the devil,” cried the parishioners.

It is Glutina’s job to go about sowing discord. She causes an overwhelming desire to be pretentious, self-congratulatory and a fear for actually being rational. She loves to cast doubt everywhere.

I caught up with Glutina at a nearby farmers market where they were having a kale fest. She was nailing nasty notes to a McDonalds’ drive-thru window. I asked her why she was promoting kale when everyone knows that while there are 13 kinds of kale, some as big as a tree, all of them are inedible and taste like a boiled rubber boot.

“Because I can,” she said. “And because people are dumb enough to believe me.

“By the way,” she added when she was leaving, “that cola drink you had is full of chromium.”

I told her that my hubcaps had chromium and they didn’t seem to care. She told me that hubcaps rarely care about anything. Then she was gone in a swirl of kale dust and a sprinkling of triglycerides.

Whenever I leave my hometown I usually drop by the farm to see Gertrude, the big mamma pig. This time, she was between litters and enjoying her empty hog wallow syndrome. She had her head in a bucket and I asked her what it was and she told me, “Oh some potato peels, some table scraps and leftovers, a couple of stale beers and stuff.”

I asked her if that corn she was chomping on was genetically modified. She pulled her head out of the pail and said, “You want genetically modified? There’s a boar named Ramone over on the next farm and boy is he genetically modified. Yowzaa!”

I just wish someone would take me seriously. PJH

About Galloping Grandma

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