Tuesday, November 16, 2010

My Cracker is Your Biscuit

Readers are well aware of my two recently disastrous gluten-free taste tests: Gluten Free Scream pancakes and The Bread That Wasn't (manufactured in Lake Ariel, PA for those detectives out there). I was beginning to fear my first hostessing experience as a gluten-freedom fighter might be my last, when lunchtime rolled around and our thoughts turned once gain to food.

I had on hand a rather unassuming triple creme brie and some fresh chevre to serve with fruit. A light repast, you understand, whilst taking a break from macaron-baking duties. But cheese can be joyless without something to put it on and so I had previously purchased at the supermarket a box of Glutino 'multigrain' crackers (gluten free! wheat free! new look, same great taste!). If I had known how awful the other selections from my pre-weekend shopping excursion would turn out to be, I might not have bothered.

But I didn't, so I did.

The crackers contained corn starch, white rice flour, organic palm oil, modified corn starch, dextrose, liquid whole egg, yeast, salt, fennel seeds, guar gum, ammonium bicarbonate, sodium bicarbonate, mono and diglycerides, and natural flavor (whatever that is). It was not clear from reading the ingredients label where the multigrains were, unless the good folks at the manufacturer include seeds in their rather loose definition (I suppose grains are technically seeds, but you never talk about sesame or poppy grains, do you?). At any rate, there was no xanthan gum in sight, and we thanked the heavens for small mercies.

We cracked open the box to see lovely creamy crackers peeking out from their shiny silver cocoon. They had a fresh, nutty aroma with no hint of metal or excessive sweetness. Their crisp texture allowed them to snap in two when urged to do so. They appeared to be constructed similarly to water crackers, with nice flaky layers inside. Dared we hope for success?

The crackers were delicious! They did not turn to slime in our mouths and tasted exotically of fennel. They held their shape under a mountain of soft cheese and stayed crunchy long enough to make the trip from plate to palate worthwhile. Toad said she would eat them under any circumstances and I vowed to keep some in the house at all times for our favorite snack of 'cheese and biscuits' (Sir's term for it, of course). 

Ridiculous name, fantastic cracker
Naturally, they're not cheap. A quick calculation revealed that Glutinos cost about 188% more than Ritz crackers, the Kid Squid's favorite.

He won't be switching any time soon - but I sure will.

Next up: macaron monomania

1 comment:

gerardthegreat said...

Forgive the pedantry - but surely "glutino" is an Italian allusion which would translate as "little piece of glutton" rather than "glutton free-zone".
I hope cook is knows better than the linguist as to what this product is meant to be.