Cassava, to me, is the Sleeping Beauty of the African kitchen. The first time I ate cassava, I was on a leaky porch in Paraguay
Nine years ago my husband was diagnosed with celiac disease. The diagnosis was a godsend as his symptoms displayed evidence of something much worse.
For years my sister, who cannot tolerate gluten, has foregone stuffing at Thanksgiving, and carefully scraped her pumpkin pie filling away from the crust.