Earlier this year, National Geographic quoted several dieticians, a gastroenterologist, and five recent, peer-reviewed studies to make this point about gluten: Don’t believe the hype.
Sounds easy enough, but a blitz of advertising spend for gluten-free foods—set to exceed $9 billion in 2025—is determined to oversimplify the current landscape of gut health.
That landscape is complicated. For 1 percent of the global population diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder called celiac disease, gluten, a protein in wheat, rye, and barley, becomes very, very bad. For up to 13 percent of the global population diagnosed with non-celiac gluten sensitivity, cutting gluten can bring relief to the feeling of ingesting broken shards of glass that result from eating certain wheat-based foods.
For people who are making thoughtful, often hard-won choices for a pain-free life, the bombardment of conglomerates trying to create a buying frenzy of gluten-free products is wearying—especially for anyone being led to believe that gluten-free products are synonymous with an anti-inflammatory, low-fat, low-carb diet. In fact, gluten-free products are often highly processed with added fat and sugar and regularly deliver less fiber, less folate, less iron, and more salt.
If you find gluten doesn’t sit well with you, you’re not alone—in your pain or in your quest for a balanced, nutrient-rich diet outside of highly processed, gluten-free replacements. A burgeoning culinary frontier also wants to play a crucial role in reclaiming nutritional, flavorful wheat that is less of a pain in our stomachs.
Among them is Red Truck Bakery’s executive chef, Alena Kabetkina. “Gluten differentiation
is indeed a fascinating topic,” she says. “The market here in America offers a wide variety of different flours that truly make a difference in a final product.”
When I asked her why a plate of pasta in Italy is a kinder, gentler serve to the stomachs of my American friends, she broke down for me a few overarching differences between American and European flours, specifically wheat variety.
Generally speaking, European flour is dominated by a soft, white wheat variety (which has less gluten), while American flour is dominated by a hard, red wheat variety (which has more gluten).
So, we can chalk up the Italian vs. American pasta plate saga to a lower-gluten European
flour supply?
Turns out, not quite.
Kabetkina let me know that a pasta plate in Italy is likely made with durum semolina flour, which actually has a very high gluten content, essential for pasta elasticity. It is possible that its lower glycemic index—meaning it is digested and absorbed more slowly—could account for fewer digestive triggers. Or perhaps Italian durum semolina flour is simply less rich in the specific proteins that cause stomach discomfort.
Those are the kinds of flour nuances that have been all but lost in the shadow cast by America’s industrialization of its agricultural industry. Good though it may be for increased food production and lower consumer costs, that industrialization has made it tough to find and support smaller farmers who produce niche wheat varieties.
However, Virginia does. You can access those niche flours locally through Wade’s Mill, a historic stone mill in the Shenandoah Valley that supplies restaurants across Virginia. According to Kabetkina, “The product is amazing!” If that is not an option for you, Kabetkina recommends King Arthur for its assortment of quality flours.
My plan is to buy a bag of bread flour from both and gift them to my neighbor who just bought a homemade bread maker. Bloated global markets might not reliably inform me how to tackle gluten and gut health, but buying my way into my friend’s kitchen is a very wise investment. So while $9 billion worth of gluten-free marketing tries to convince us that wheat is the devil, it turns out the real villain might just be America’s obsession with turning everything—including our flour—into an industrial-strength version of its gentler European cousin. Nothing says “I care about your digestive health” quite like showing up at your neighbor’s door with artisanal flour and a not-so-subtle hint about their new bread maker.
This article originally appeared in the October 2025 issue.
