There is nothing I hate more than a potluck buffet. Why does every event have to revolve around food? But since I can’t avoid such school gatherings–and since Anna and I have been on a year-long kick testing recipes for our cookbook–I find myself going to great lengths to sign up for every blessed potluck my kids’ schools organize just to prove to myself that I can spin out homemade dishes that are 100% allergy-free. I’ll admit that I also take great pride in being able to tell these parents that “Yes, what I am bringing will be safe for your kids!” They will be able to eat without fear. They can be part of the celebration. They can have fun, too. So take that, bagels.

So for my son’s end-of-year celebration, I pulled out all the stops and combed through my already-battered copy of Gwyneth Paltrow and Julia Turshen’s second cookbook, It’s All Good. With the zeal of a Baptist minister pouring over the Bible for that perfect piece of Scripture for his Sunday sermon, I came across an interesting muffin recipe that calls for sweet potato, almost a cup of maple syrup and Chinese Five Spice. Intrigued, I made a batch substituting rice milk for the recommended almond milk. My kids devoured them. Ecstatic, I went to work, baking the mix in a mini-muffin tin for the little mouths I  just knew would kiss the ground I walked on for bringing them a yummy, worry-free treat.

But best intentions will be thwarted. On the morning of the celebration, I carefully labeled the platter “100% ALLERGY FREE” in red ink with about 10 exclamation points, just to share my elation–and drive home the point. Ceremoniously presenting the muffins to the teachers preparing the buffet tables, I quickly explained that these should be put at one end of the table where they won’t be mixed with other muffins, breads and coffee cakes. In a great rush, the teachers whisked away my platter and began dividing the muffins in half and redistributing them onto other dishes already loaded with what I can only describe as a Celiac’s worst nightmare.

It took everything in my power not to scream. “Wait!” I eeked out. “Those have to stay separated so that the kids with allergies can eat them!” Too busy rushing to get the food out to the tables, the teachers swept by me with a cursory glance and glib “Sorry, but we have two tables of food and everything needs to be split up.” My heart sank. Why did these teachers not understand? Why didn’t anyone tell me that everything would be divided among two tables? And worst of all: How was I going to explain to the other moms that my muffins were no longer safe? I had made such a grand show of ensuring them that their kids would have something safe to eat besides boring fruit, and I no longer could promise that.

I’d like to believe that there’s a teaching opportunity here, that I can sit down with the school and devise a fail-proof plan for such events. But then I question how seriously I will be taken. And I realize how much misunderstanding and apathy still exist, despite the growing numbers of kids with food allergies. For now, I chalk it up to being just one of those days–there have been others and there will be more–when I bang my head against the wall and have to take a step back to figure out how to respond in a positive way and start to change the mindset.