The hostess looked at us blankly when we asked about a gluten-free menu. Someone else—manager?—said, your server will help you with that. When we asked what I could safely eat, it seemed to amuse him. “Not the soups, not the schnitzels.” When pressed, he answered that nothing with gravies or sauces were safe. Finally I said, “You’ve only told me what I can’t eat. Is there anything I CAN eat?” “Salads.” “What about sandwiches?” I ask. “Bread.” “Do you have gluten free bread?” “I’m pretty sure we have one gluten-free bun.” We almost left at this point, because it seemed he was blaming me for having celiac disease. The salad was adequate, but I could’ve eaten that at home.
The waitress had a gluten free menu, but it was on her phone. I had a chicken sandwich with a gluten free bun (untoasted) and mashed potatoes. It was really good and she checked with the kitchen multiple times to make sure everything was separate but I still felt a little weird after, so I can’t say it’s celiac safe.