All goes well until about a year ago...

Once I finally was made aware of the fact that my major allery was to pine nuts, I then knew what I had to avoid at all costs. The problem that arose is that pine nuts not easily detected if not used whole. They can be ground up and therefore can be virtually invisible. Furthermore, given that I had never knowingly eaten pine nuts, I never was given a chance to know what they taste like on their own or what kind of effect they have on the flavour of any given dish.

Armed with information that would ensure my survival, when frequenting a new restaurant, I would ask servers to ensure that a meal I'd order was sure to be pine nut free. It was interesting to see that most servers had no clue what a pine nut actually was. I learned to place my trust in restaurant staff and everything went well for a couple of years. That was in part thanks to my wife-to-be who did her best to ensure that she would inquire on my behalf if I slacked off and didn't explicitly ask about pine nuts possibly being an unlisted ingredient in an ordered meal.

This brings us to early December 2005.

This coming Saturday night will be the one year anniversary of a very good friend of mine potentially saved me from further allergic chaos. The snow was falling and Preston Street was packed with cars. I remember hitting a small patch of black ice as I turned onto a side street and sliding into a parking spot just like James Bond. OK, it wasn't that dramatic but it was enough to cause me to forget my daytimer and EpiPen in the truck. Once seated in the restaurant, I realized that I had left it behind and grumpily got up and trudged out into the snow to get it.

This particular restaurant had a very detailed menu posted on its website. I noted that several dishes contained pine nuts and I was very careful when ordering. Given the very explicit nature of the menu, I let my guard down and confidently ordered what appeared to be a "safe" meal without giving pine nut allergy warning that sometimes appears to be annoying to restaurant staff. It consisted of chicken with mixed vegetables and garlic mashed potatoes.

When my meal arrived I cut a small chunk of chicken off to give it a taste before digging into the veggies. Who doesn't have a mother who has lectured their sons or daughters on the merits of eating their vegetables? After eating a few bites, my friend Chantal immediately suggested that I stop. She said that she had a suspicion that pesto could be found within the greens.

While I refused to believe her because once again, the menu was quite detailed and explicit when it came to pine nut content, I immediately flagged down the waiter. He came over and I asked if there was pesto in the vegetables. He came back and answered in the affirmative. My appetite was quickly disappearing. I'm sure I was now as pale as a ghost. We asked that he confirm that there were pine nuts in the pesto. Once again, yes. I told him that I was deathly allergic to them and would no longer be eating my entree. He kindly offered to get something else from the kitchen, but I would not be able to eat anything else at that point, I was sure of that.

The clock's now ticking. I figure that it's very well possible that I didn't ingest any of the pesto while picking through the veggies. If I felt no ill effects in the coming minutes, I'd be fine. Of course, my fiancee at the time as well as my two friends were somewhat distraught. I encouraged them to go ahead and eat their meals - there was no sense in everyone's dinner being ruined.

Looking at my glass of water, I took the approach of diluting any possible pine nuts making their way down to my stomach. I chugged down what I had. The waiter immediately re-filled my glass. I drank it almost as quickly and once again, he magically appeared. I'm certain this repeated itself a half-dozen times before I declared myself problem-free.

I was OK and no harm was done. They comped my meal and wished us well as we left. Needless to say, I was quite happy to be able to walk out, and it is possible that the waiter being stationed beside me as I drank played a large factor in my being able to laugh it off a year later. The true hero here, of course, was Chantal who immediately stopped me from potentially poisoning myself by eating any more. To thank the waiter for everything he tried to do for me I left him a tip that was pretty close to what I would have paid for the meal in the first place. I owed him that much.

As for Chantal, she got a great birthday present. With Christmas being just a few weeks away, she was thanked immensely once again.

Ever since, I have tried to be more strict with myself when it comes to alerting kitchen staff to my allergy before dining in a new restaurant. I can't say I'm doing it 100% right now, but I'm getting better. My pesky fiancee who is now my wife usually picks up on my omissions and pinch hits when I need it.

It's a pain, and I am sure that some waiters are annoyed when I sometimes make them go back to the kitchen more than once when it looks like they are not quite understanding the seriousness of a potential situation, but to not have to go through what I did a year ago again is certainly worth the effort.