I spent 24 hours eating gluten-free in Seattle
Seattle likes to describe itself as an accommodating city — thoughtful, flexible, human-scaled. It’s part of the civic mythology. But how well does that hold up when daily life comes with real constraints?
To find out, I spent a day eating gluten-free in Seattle. I don’t have celiac disease, and I don’t normally think about gluten at all. I didn’t research menus or plan ahead, instead following Bethany, who has celiac disease, as she moved through the city the way she does every day.
Bethany was diagnosed in 2020, after she had already been living in Seattle for a few years. She’s grateful for that timing. Compared to many cities, Seattle offers more awareness around food allergies: servers who ask about restrictions without being prompted, menus that are clearly marked, and restaurants that understand cross-contamination. That awareness doesn’t eliminate effort, but it does change the experience.
Our first stop was Portage Bay Cafe in South Lake Union. It’s one of Bethany’s regular spots, not because it’s trendy, but because it’s reliable. When the server asked about allergies before taking our order, Bethany didn’t have to explain herself or advocate for extra precautions. The food arrived with a small allergy flag — a simple marker that signals care and attention. These details don’t draw much notice unless you depend on them.
Eating gluten-free, Bethany explained, is less about finding options than about filtering constantly. Every meal requires evaluation: where to go, what questions to ask, how much to trust the answer. Over time, that process becomes routine, but it never disappears.
Before her diagnosis, Bethany preferred to move through the city spontaneously, especially when traveling. Now, she plans ahead. She keeps notes on her phone with safe options in different neighborhoods and relies on recommendations from other people with celiac disease. With a job that takes her all over Seattle, preparation isn’t optional. Getting it wrong can mean more than inconvenience.
Community plays a role in easing that burden. Bethany is part of a gluten-free Seattle group where people trade information and troubleshoot unfamiliar areas. She’s also helping organize a supper club for people with celiac disease — a way to make eating feel less isolating and more social again.
Later in the day, we went to Ghostfish Brewing, a dedicated gluten-free restaurant and brewery. The appeal was immediate. With an entirely gluten-free menu, there was no need to scan for symbols or mentally edit choices. Everything was safe by default. Bethany ordered a taco and a flight of seasonal beers — a casual decision made without calculation. That ease stood out.
When planning fails, the margins shrink quickly. Fast food offers few reliable gluten-free options, especially in the morning. Sometimes the fallback is Starbucks egg bites. Sometimes it’s a protein bar packed hours earlier. Convenience, it turns out, is unevenly distributed.
Bethany also mentioned a few places she had recently tried, including Honest Biscuits at Pike Place Market and Bamboo Sushi, where gluten is far more present than most people expect. Soy sauce, imitation crab, and breading all contain it — details that only become obvious when they matter.
The day ended in Bethany’s kitchen, where control returns. Cooking at home means fewer questions, fewer risks, and fewer explanations. We made gluten-free macaroni and cheese, compared brands, and ate dinner without negotiation.
Seattle does offer more gluten-free options than many cities. That much is clear. What’s less visible is the mental work required to navigate them. Eating gluten-free isn’t a challenge or a trend; it’s a system of constant decisions layered onto everyday life.
Spending a day following that system didn’t feel like a food tour. It felt like learning a different way of moving through the city — one shaped by trust, preparation, and limits most people never have to consider.
Bethany’s full list of gluten-free restaurants in Seattle and beyond is linked here.