Are Ritz Gluten Free [upd] Link

A young mom with a cart rolled past, tossing a family-size box of Ritz next to a jar of peanut butter. Ingrid felt a sharp, irrational pang of jealousy. She doesn’t even know how lucky she is, Ingrid thought. She can just… eat.

Ingrid had known the answer before she typed it the first time. She’d known it for six years, ever since her doctor sat her down with a laminated chart of “forbidden foods.” But Ritz crackers were the last thread connecting her to the easy, thoughtless eating of her pre-celiac life. The buttery, salty, shattering-in-your-mouth perfection of a Ritz was the taste of childhood sick days, of teenage sleepovers, of college cram sessions where she’d crush them into tomato soup. are ritz gluten free

“No,” she said. “Bring the real ones. I’ll make myself a different snack.” A young mom with a cart rolled past,

She preheated the oven. She pulled out a bag of fine white rice flour, cornstarch, tapioca starch. She cut cold butter into the dry mix with a pastry cutter, the way her grandmother taught her for pie crust. She rolled the dough thin—thinner than she thought possible—and cut out tiny circles with the rim of a shot glass. She poked them with a fork, brushed them with melted butter, and sprinkled them with sea salt. She can just… eat

The next afternoon, her sister unboxed a fresh sleeve of Ritz. The sound of the cellophane crinkling was obscene—a chorus of forbidden joy. The kids attacked them like tiny, happy locusts. Ingrid’s nephew offered her one, crumbs on his chin. “Aunt Ingrid? Want a bite?”

“Raisins?” Ingrid asked.