Fussy eaters have terrorised restaurants. Don't let them wreak havoc in church

Telegraph

13-07-2025

Sunday mornings for the Church of England parish priest are hectic. As the sun shoots through the edges of the curtains and many of us edge under the duvet, the vicar is up and about preparing for flock administration. In rural areas, such as ours, that can mean services in a handful of some seven churches. So they must prepare to chug along the lanes and then warmly greet the noble volunteers who have cleaned and decorated the church and then officiate for 14 odd souls who have bothered to turn up.
Later that day, there might be more services and some private visits to elderly parishioners who request the sacrament at home. The visiting priest, a throwback to the days – now hard to imagine – when a doctor did home visits.
She might already be wearing a clerical shirt and stiff dog collar, black trousers and black shoes, but onto the back seat goes the cassock, surplice, the seasonal stole, then maybe some wellies to get up that muddy church track. As there are communion services today, there's also a Tupperware box of communion wafers, as delivered by post from FA Dumont Church Supplies and a bottle of Poterian Fair Trade Communion Wine (a light South African bottle, fortified to 15 per cent and with a balancing sweetness, akin, but not as heavy, to port). Then, onto the front seat goes their Bible, prayer book and the little black book with their sermons in and their phone with the list of churches waiting for their officiating.
But then, what's this? Their other half calls from the house: 'Darling, you left the dietaries on the kitchen table.'
Lest they forget! There's four gluten-free in the first church, one in the second, one non-alc in the third.
If dealing with declining attendance, rudderless leadership, poverty, leaking roofs and a visceral culture clash of modernity and tradition wasn't enough, the vicar must now cater for varying dietary requirements.
Ahead of the General Synod, which began on Friday in York – an annual event of discussion and debate by the church's governing body – one Abigail Ogier, a lay synod member from the Diocese of Manchester, posted an official question as to what progress had been made to enable parishioners unable to consume alcohol or gluten to take communion.
After all, Canon B17 of the Canons of the Church of England stipulates that bread for Communion must be made from 'the best and purest wheat flour that conveniently may be gotten' and that wine should be 'the fermented juice of the grape, good and wholesome'. And the Church's official view is that while you can water down the wine and fiddle with the bread recipe, it must still contain minimal wheat and the wine must still be made of fermented grape juice.
Which is a red flag for the gluten-averse or non-alc purist. Many of whom have had enormous fun in recent years marauding their way through the hospitality sector parading their intolerances, often at the very last minute, just as the chef calls, 'Service!' at the pass.
And, while I wouldn't for a moment doubt the likes of the genuine coeliac, nut-allergic, or alcohol-intolerant, everyone in hospitality knows that many people take pleasure in gloriously labelling themselves as intolerant as they worship the latest food fad, paraded by some pesky irritant on TikTok.
But the intolerant minority have sway, which is why whenever you order in a UK restaurant the server must ask, 'Does anyone have any allergies?' in spite of the fact that the overwhelming answer is 'no', and that if you have an intolerance the responsibility to remember and voice it should be on you.
So will the intolerance purists cry foul if the C of E sticks by its guns? A blessing isn't quite the same as a full-on bit of Sunday morning transubstantiation. So doubtless to appease the shrieking few, the vicar must add to his burden of duties at the altar rail. 'Blood of Christ, Non-alc or 15 per cent ABV… Body of Christ, single cross, sealed edge, diameter special wholemeal or individually-wrapped gluten free?'
As a restaurant critic with a diagnosed intolerance of wheat, dairy and alcohol, which I studiedly ignore as the fun of consumption outweighs the ensuing dodgy tummy, I'll never waver from a wheat-based wafer. And I demand the 15 per cent ABV. The reward of slogging through a service being that little morning hit of alcohol. I'm not sure if it's the blood of Christ, but my own spirits certainly soar.