Remember My Big Fat Greek Wedding? In that 2002 romantic comedy, the leading man, Ian (played by John Corbett), is a vegetarian. After he proposes to his girlfriend, Toula (Nia Vardalos), he meets her very large Greek family at an Easter celebration. One of Toula's aunts invites the couple over for dinner sometime.

"Oh, that might be a problem," says Toula. "Ian is a vegetarian. He doesn't eat meat."

"What do you mean he don't eat no meat?" the perplexed aunt bellows. She sees that her outburst has made Ian uncomfortable, though, so she smiles and coos, "Oh, that's OK. I make lamb."

As a fledgling vegetarian in the late 1980s, I had plenty of similar conversations with relatives over holiday dinners. At Thanksgiving one year, my grandmother elbowed me, asking why I didn't have any turkey on my plate. When I told her I wasn't eating meat, she looked at me, cocked her head to one side, and asked, "But you can still eat turkey, can't you?"

Generational misunderstandings aside, during my years as a vegetarian, family holiday meals were never fraught with problematic or embarrassing encounters. Although I did put up with some friendly ribbing from time to time, for the most part, my relatives understood and did their best to make at least a few dishes I could eat.

These days, if you're not vegetarian or living with a dietary restriction, you probably have at least one friend who has something he or she can't, or won't, tolerate at the dinner table. Recently, I asked friends for anecdotes about holiday dining — stories about funny misunderstandings or gross culinary mishaps by family members cooking special dishes for the first time. You know, the sort of tales that would justify a Thanksgiving addendum to David Sedaris' Holidays on Ice.

Sadly, what I got instead was accounts of people being flippant or rude about dietary choices, whether those choices were based on aesthetic dispositions or medical conditions.

Some relatives at least try to understand. "When I got this diagnosis," said one friend who suffers from celiac disease, "it was less well known ... than it is now, and some people were very confused and/or suspicious about it. My grandmother, for instance ... when she found out I couldn't eat this weird thing called gluten, she queried me repeatedly. 'How about some pasta, dear?' Nope, sorry, can't do that. 'Would you like a shepherd's pie? Cookies? Well, can you have a banana?' "

Ah yes, the traditional Thanksgiving banana.

Other friends weren't so lucky. "No one was particularly interested in catering to my needs," said one friend, who became a vegetarian when she was a teenager. "Every meal with my extended family was awkward. I ... just felt attacked. They all took my choice personally and constantly sought me out to defend their meat eating while at the same time telling me how wrong I was. Fortunately, I ... had lots of ammunition that they had no answers for and could only laugh off, since I was 'just a child.' "

"People seem to think that food allergies are just annoying preferences," said an Albuquerque friend who's allergic to gluten. "Just the other day, my dad told me that he now understands that I really do have a gluten allergy because he saw a show about it on TV! Before that, he just thought I was being a pain ... and needed something to 'whine about.' "

One family friend who has been a vegetarian for years sang a familiar tune. "I'd be invited for holiday dinners ... with family. The food is all meat, and no one thinks to have anything for me to eat. Sometimes I was told there would be food for me (non-meat dishes), but ... they'd hide the container ... of broth in the garbage can."

She continued, "I finally graduated to bringing a dish myself, so I know I have something to eat. But the dish is put out for all to see, and some guests just think it's so interesting or looks so appealing, and they all try it and finish it for me." The result? "I eat before I go anywhere."

Any difficulties I encountered as a teenage vegetarian were sort of understandable — I was living in the Deep South in the late 1980s. But this is 2010. Vegetarianism, veganism and food sensitivities are common. If a guest at your holiday dinner has made the commitment to being a vegetarian, for example, take that commitment seriously — don't expect him or her to "make an exception for a special occasion." Food allergies aren't an attention-getting device — no one really wants to miss out on stuffing and buttery rolls, right? Don't panic, though; no one will expect you to forgo your turkey, either. Be respectful. There's room at the table for everyone.

Laurel Gladden is a freelance writer in Santa Fe. Contact her at the.ethical.epicure@gmail.com.