Biting My Tongue, Part 2

Over the past few years I’ve dined at Italian restaurants with a few family members who, of the plethora of menu options available, have ordered the veal parmesan. Now, I’m not saying you shouldn't eat veal parmesan; I’m sure it’s very tasty, and to each his own blah blah blah... But, like gifting Turkish delights to an Armenian, or eating bacon-wrapped cheese curds in front of a devout Jewish person, picking the baby cow off the menu in front of a vegetarian makes me do a little mental head tilt of confusion. It’s just a little... weird?

As much as I enjoy a good debate about the morality of meat-eating, I usually bite my tongue about others’ meals because nobody, especially vegetarian ole’ me, likes for their food choices to be the center of conversation. Even when the subject of my vegetarianism does come up, I try to be polite and never engage in a Wollenian style takedown of others’ carnism.

But the biggest reason I stay mum at the dinner table is because militancy - whether about gun rights, immigration, abortion, or calves being tethered into immobility - rarely works. At least not with friends and family.

As anyone who cares deeply about any issue knows, we impassioned folk have a choice to make everyday: to be outspoken about the wrongs that bother us, or to sit back quietly and lead by example. I think the latter works better in the long-run because, as much as we define ourselves by what we are, we also define ourselves by what we are not. The Other is just as much a part of our identities as The Self, so every time we say/tweet/post something divisive, we may harden the juxtaposition of opposing opinions.

Here’s what I mean:

• I am a woman; I am American; I like Coke; I am a Chicagoan; I am a vegetarian
• I’m not a man; I’m not an Afghani; I don’t prefer Pepsi; I’m not a New Yorker; I don't eat meat

So every time you say something about being a man; it reinforces my womanhood. Every time someone in suburbia posts about their 2nd Amendment rights, it reminds me that I’m a Chicagoan who hates gun violence. Everytime I share a video about overfishing or ag-gag laws, I’m forcing people to identify themselves at meat-eaters.

In other words, sharing strong opinions cultivates defensiveness. We think that the rightness of our own beliefs will entice people to step over to our side, but it usually makes people take big steps away from us. So, as much as I love the chance to correct someone who thinks that the milk in their fridge comes from a farm like Dotty and Kit’s in A League of Their Own, I try my best to stay mum on the subject of modern-day animal agriculture because, if I push my points to strongly, I’m going to push people away.

Perhaps the most persuasive action is a quiet, kind patience.

Take my cousin, Emma, for example - a lifelong vegetarian who gave up meat as soon as she learned who it came from. When I started thinking about transitioning to a meat-free diet, I naturally thought of her. But I didn’t think of her Tofurky or her leatherless shoes. Rather, I thought of her kindness and her patience with the rest of us; her constant acceptance of our different food choices. She was the quiet vegetarian who never made me feel guilty for eating turkey at the holidays or having down feathers in my winter coat.

And that’s the thing: when people hear the word “vegetarian,” I don’t want them to think of me. Or if they do, let it be with the kindness with which I always thought of Emma. Let my presence as a plant-eater in others’ lives be but a brief respite in their minds before going on to ponder the real substance of the word.

Militant vegetarians - or environmentalists, or Tea Partiers - do their cause a disservice. Combativeness should stay in the town hall or on the streets in protest, but not at the dinner table because - and this is the the truth that makes me bite my tongue every time a family member orders the veal - had I ever been made to feel guilty by a vegetarian, I probably wouldn't be one today.

I made the transition, and now there are two vegetarians at our family gatherings. Last Thanksgiving, Emma and I sat together at the far end of the table, happily plopping vegan stuffing and butter-free mashed potatoes on our plates while handing off the turkey slices and corn casserole to those around us. Then, at our most recent family gathering a few weeks ago, the turkey master himself, my grandpa, gladly scooped up a slice of of our vegan dish for the first time ever. A vegetable pot pie. He really liked it.

Biting My Tongue, Part 1

I’m a vegetarian, an almost-vegan these days (How you doin’ oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from Potbelly?). I’m a shy vegetarian, though - not because I’m ashamed or embarrassed, but because I realize what a lightning rod the word “vegetarian” can be.

Case in point: I was at a friend’s potluck a few months ago. I brought my vegan mac ‘n cheese, which everyone seemed to like even before they knew what was in it. Eventually someone mentioned the lack of dairy in my dish, and then this guy meandered over to me and said: “So you’re a vegan? You know that cows want to be milked, right?”

Game on.

Whenever somebody starts to defend modern animal agriculture I get a little tickle of excitement in my gut because I loves me a good debate about the merits of vegetarianism. Seriously, I have several vegan cookbooks in my pantry; I attended a seminar with the founder of Farm Sanctuary and summarily adopted (symbolically, of course) one of their goats for Christmas; I subscribe to at least a dozen farm animal protection groups on Facebook; and I’m hoping to some day memorize this epic speech by Australian Philanthropist Philip Wollen in a debate called “Animals Should Be Taken Off the Menu":

So bring. it. on.

But, I had just met this guy, so I bit my tongue and responded diplomatically, “That’s just not true, but we don’t have to get into all of that right now. Tell me more about where you grew up?”

Deep down, I love when people want to talk to me about vegetarianism. That you care about where your food comes from, even if you disagree with me, makes me smile on the inside.

But I stay mum on the outside. I usually bite my tongue at these kinds of provocations because I never want people to feel like I’m different from them because of my food choices. That’s a very common complaint about vegetarians, isn’t it? That we think of ourselves as “better” than meat eaters. However, I think this defensiveness quietly asserts the opposite. Slaughtering animals for human consumption has been and always will be a violent, guilt-inducing act, especially nowadays. We all cringe at undercover PETA videos, and free-range eggs and organic meats have a growing market share because, deep down, everyone cares about animal welfare. We are all compassionate; we are all “better.” As a vegetarian, I may be more consistent with my values, but my values match yours. We are the same.

The biggest reason I bite my tongue at questions about my food choices is because I’m starting to realize how divergent opinions can reinforce each other. I leave my vegetarian dish to do the talking for me at the dinner table because the best way to get people to eat less meat might be to stop trying to convince them. I'll explore that idea in my next post.

180 Degrees

Yesterday afternoon I walked a few blocks north of our apartment to the Anti-Cruelty Society for my first volunteer orientation session. Founded in 1899, the ACS is Chicago's oldest animal shelter and runs many life-saving programs for Chicago pets, including an adoption program, a low-cost spay/neuter clinic, a pet behavioral help hotline, and many humane outreach and education programs. You can read more about this wonderful organization here.

I signed up for the Monday afternoon session, which turned out to be pretty sparse with only five attendees.  But I enjoyed our more-intimate orientation because it I got to learn more about the other volunteers, and our time together helped me realize something about myself as well.

As our volunteer coordinator began her PowerPoint presentation, she clicked through to the second slide entitled "About Me."  It featured two photos of a couple of adorable bulldogs and one pretty gray-and-white cat - her pets.  She was using their photos as a family portrait and as a tacit way of illustrating her own motivations behind her work at ACS.

Because we were long on time and short on attendees, our presenter followed-up her discussion of her pet family by asking us about ours.  An older gentleman sitting in the front row, said he had two cats named Grendel, after the Beowolf character, and Jack.  The second lady, sitting behind me, mentioned her feisty Norwich terrier who loves her but not other Norwich terriers.  Then the volunteer coordinator held out her palms towards me and asked curiously, "How 'bout you? Do you have any pets?"

"Yes, I do." I smiled, happy for any excuse to talk about my fur baby in front of a crowd, even a small one. "I have a dog, Teddy. He's a Newfoundland."

She cocked her head to the side and grinned, "Aw, what a perfect name for a Newfoundland!"

"Thank you, yes, he does look like a big black bear." 

I looked down and reflected on the enthusiasm with which the two previous speakers had talked about their pets, and a most significant realization came to my mind and out of my mouth: "You know, it's funny.  I guess I've kind of done a 180 in the past two years since I got Teddy. I used to not care much about animals at all."

...

It's true. Growing up, I never considered myself an animal lover. In college - heck, even in elementary school - if a visitor ever brought a dog to campus or, surprise of surprises, into the classroom, I watched from a distance as my classmates cooed over the furry novelty. 

I thought dogs made for nervous doorbell-rings and awkward moments entering a friend's house. "Off! Off! No jump!" Those were the words that always seemed to greet me at the house of a faithful dog owner.  Of course, I would cover up my discomfort with learned politeness. "Oh don't worry about him. He's fine!" I'd lie, as I felt the freshly trimmed nails of my four-legged doorman scratch my legs and feet.

Cats were cooler, but also more indifferent to affection. The closest I ever came to feeling love for an animal was for my family's cat, Snowflake.  Even today, I brag about his awesomeness, especially to defend the typical cat-shaming by dog lovers. Sure, he sometimes dragged dead birds to our front porch welcoming the mailman with a murder scene, and he hardly ever slept in my bed with me. Even when he did cuddle with me, I'd have to quickly bury myself in layers of blankets to protect my supple skin from his 15-minute-long, claw-wielding, blanket kneading session that would precede EVERY nap he took with me. BUT when I babysat in the neighborhood during junior high, Snowflake walked me to each house, waited for me on the windowsill, and walked me back.  Great cat. Case closed.

But I didn't love Snowflake like I love Teddy today, which has nothing to do with the merits of Snowflake v. Teddy or cats v. dogs.  No, I attribute my pet-indifference to my frustration with the dogs living in my house growing up. Those little terriers didn't always like each other, they peed on the kitchen floor with alarming regularity, and they'd snatch dropped food with the ferociousness of piranhas. My parents loved those dogs. But I only love them for the funny family stories they brought about, like the time(s) we shouted at my toddler cousin "DON'T PICK IT UP!" after he dropped his goldfish crackers off the kitchen table.

So I grew up never really understanding why everyone loved their dogs so much.

Then I got Teddy, and everything changed. The first few weeks of puppyhood were a bit stressful: whining in his crate, peeing on the carpet, and chewing the ethernet cord (true story).  Is he eating enough?  Why isn't he eating?  What did his poo look like?  Did we schedule his Distemper vaccine yet?

But through all of those initial little concerns, I was forgetting the bigger picture: that I was caring for this dog.  I was providing for him because I wanted him to be a part of our family.  

And then something magical happened: a few weeks after we brought puppy Teddy home from Indiana, I went to the bathroom (that's not the magical part).  I walked down the hallway, turned into our bedroom and then into our bathroom. As I sat down to do my business, I turned around to find that Teddy had followed me all the way in there.  I think that's the moment that I really started to love my dog, most selfishly, because I knew how much he was starting to love me.

A few months later I became a vegetarian.  Now I'm coming up on my 1-year anniversary as a vegan. I get email newsletters from West Loop Dog Meetup and vegan chef, Chloe Coscarelli.  On Facebook I follow Farm Sanctuary, Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary, Heartland Farm Animal Sanctuary, Humane Society of the United States Farm Animal Protection League, Dogs Are Family, and the Anti-Cruelty Society of course. I've discovered that I care deeply for the welfare of dogs, cats, and all animals.


...

"You know, it's funny.  I guess I've kind of done a 180 in the past two years since I got Teddy. I used to not care much about animals at all," I said to the volunteer coordinator.  "But," I tapped my palm on my heart, "Now I love my dog so much I don't know what I'd do without him.  He is love incarnate."

She smiled at me.  "That's so interesting.  You see, most people see animal shelter volunteers and assume that we care for animals because of some sort of deep personal calling that we've had our whole lives. But you'll be able to relate so well to prospective adopters and their anxieties.  You have such a wonderful story to share."

I wish my story upon everyone.  My second orientation session is in two weeks.

Guacamole Salad

Recipe below

Sometimes I'm nervous to call myself a vegan. In fact, I have a big confession to make: in the past year I have eaten four glazed donuts, two butter-laced pancakes, and a bite of cow's milk ice cream. But I'm grasping my vegan card with an iron fist because I eschew animal products 99% of the time. As Colleen Patrick-Goudreau once said, "Veganism is not about perfection; it's about intention." In other words, gimme a break.

But my epicurean sins are not the reason I bite my tongue in front of waiters. I hesitate to identify as a vegan because, frankly, I'm afraid they won't believe me. You see, according books like Skinny Bitch, vegans are supposed to be runway-model thin. The big names in veganism - Patrick-Goudreau, Kathy Freston, Ellen and Portia DeGeneres - are all quite slim. I've definitely lost a bit of weight since converting, but I am neither skinny, nor a bitch, a fact a playfully pointed out to my mom when when we were back in Indiana visiting my parents two weeks ago. Ever the concerned mother, she was worried that she didn't have anything vegan for me in the kitchen (she did):

"Sweetie, I just want to make sure you're getting enough to eat."

I grabbed my belly and laughed, "Does it look like I'm not getting enough to eat?"

I eat 2000 calories a day of tasty food and am proud to be an immutable example that it is possible to indulge on a vegan diet.

I'm pretty sure all that cute belly pudge I shook at my mom comes from one dietary source: avocados (...and peanut butter...and chocolate). I love that mushy fruit so much that I put on my pasta, on my potatoes, and I'd spread guacamole on my breakfast toast if that wasn't weird.

I've even discovered a way to make a delicious guacamole-like salad. With no added oils and only 4 primary ingredients, this salad is so easy, so quick to prepare, and so tasty. Suffice it to say that if the Muppet's Christmas Carol fruits were talking about me, they'd sing: "If she became a flavor you can bet she would be guacamole."

Guacamole Salad
A big bowl of salad greens (1 serving)
1 avocado, peeled and chopped
1 tomato, diced
2-3 Tablespoons rice vinegar
salt and pepper to taste

Add ingredients to large bowl. Mash avocado with spoon or hands until salad leaves are coated.

Healthier Mac and Cheese - What?!

The past few weeks I have been seriously considering going gluten-free for a trial period to determine if I’m sensitive to wheat in my diet, which is something I’ve suspected for awhile now.  Yet, as a vegan, I can’t help but wonder, if I eliminate wheat from my diet, what the h-e-double hockey sticks am I going to eat?  So, out of lack of preparedness, I’m putting off my gluten-free trial for at least another week.  Stay tuned!

It doesn’t get much more gluten-ey than pasta, does it?  If I’m going to inflame my digestive system, then mac and cheese is how I want to do it!

I know vegan macaroni and cheese seems oxymoronic.  Indeed, when I stopped eating animal products, there were some dishes I thought I would just never be able to eat again, and hamburgers and mac and cheese were #1 and #2 on my list of most-missed foods.

Well, I’ve come to learn that vegan mac and cheese is NOT an oxymoron.  I tweaked a recipe from a vegan cookbook that my turkey-basting grandparents got me for Christmas - yay for awesome grandparents and inter-generational acceptance!

On a related note, also not an oxymoron: chubby vegan.  Case in point, this is what the casserole dish looks like only 10 hours after I took the first photo:

I told you it was delicious! I love to sprinkle it with a few dashes of Tabasco sauce.

Vegan Macaroni and Cheese

1 pound macaroni, shell, or rotini pasta
2 medium (or 3 small) yukon gold potatoes, peeled and diced
1 medium carrot, peeled and diced
1/2 small onion, diced
2 cups of water
2/3 cup of canola or vegetable oil
2/3 cup raw cashews
2 teaspoons salt
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 teaspoon dry mustard
2 Tablespoons lemon juice (about 1 lemon squeezed)
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/8 or 1/4 teaspoons cayenne pepper
1/4 cup plain bread crumbs, optional

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and lightly oil a baking pan or casserole dish.

Cook pasta according to package directions.

Bring potatoes, carrots, onion, and 2 cups of water to a boil.  Turn down to low and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes or until vegetables are tender.  *Do not drain the water from the vegetables*

In a blender or food processor, combine the cooked vegetables with their cooking water, oil, cashews, salt, garlic, mustard, lemon juice, pepper, and cayenne pepper.  BE CAREFUL IF THE LIQUID LEVEL IS HIGH!  If using a blender, like me, pulse the mixture together gently before hitting the “Blend” button - this will help you prevent a Brawny commercial-worthy explosion of hot liquid all over your counters.  Blend until smooth.

Taste and adjust seasoning as desired.  

Mix cheese sauce in with the cooked pasta and pour into the casserole dish, sprinkle with bread crumbs.  

Bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes or until the sauce is bubbling on the edges.

Chocolate-Dipped Flourless Vegan Cookie Dough

In the enduring battle between chocolate chip cookies and chocolate chip cookie dough, I’m on Team Dough all the way.  Brown sugar is, hands down, my favorite baking ingredient, and no baked good truly expresses the rich sweetness of brown sugar as well as the chocolate chip cookie - especially the dough.  

Last night Ian looked incredulously at me when I declared my intention to make a healthy, salmonella-risk-free version of one of my favorite treats:  “Prepare to have your mind blown by what I’m about to make: cookie dough WITHOUT eggs, butter, or even flour.”

An hour later, I was hanging my head in defeat, convinced my over-enthusiasm had jinxed the entire project.  The cookie dough tasted like garbanzo beans and was much too thin.  Slumping my shoulders, I glopped my too-runny dough onto wax paper and let it sit in the fridge over night, hoping it would be better by morning.

Oh sweet, sweet morning. Ten hours after my self-imposed defeat, my cookie dough globs had hardened up and the bean flavor had evaporated.  Now I’m about to evaporate them.


So, prepare to have your mind blown ten hours after when you make these.  The original recipe is from Chocolate Covered Katie, but this is my adaptation:

Chocolate-Dipped Cookie Dough:

1 can of garbanzo beans/chickpeas, drained, rinsed and dried with a paper towel
1 cup of brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 Tablespoons canola or vegetable oil
1/4 - 1 cup rolled oats (or more to thicken)
1/2 cup of chocolate chips (or more if you want!)

In a food processor, combine beans, brown sugar, salt, baking soda, vanilla extract, oil, and oats.  Add more oats if the texture is too runny; add a bit of non-dairy milk if the texture is too thick.  Unplug food processor and mix in the chocolate chips manually.

Roll dough into balls and place on wax paper (or just scoop spoonfuls onto wax paper).  Refrigerate for one hour until hardened.

Now you can either enjoy the cookie dough by itself OR you can dip the cookie dough into melted chocolate like I did and re-refrigerate.

Thai Noodles with Kale & Tofu

Do you know what makes cream of mushroom soup taste like cream of mushroom soup?  I do.  It's thyme.  Stuffing and gravy?  Usually sage.  Thai food?  Peanut and lime.

  

Before I started cooking all those dishes myself I would have answered: Campbell's, Grandpa, and the delightful short-order cooks at Star of Siam.  But cooking from scratch has unlocked the gate to the secret garden of spices and seasonings.  So as I've been wearing out my kitchen aprons and scratching up my cutting boards since converting to Veganism, I feel a bit like Willy Wonka in Loompaland, discovering the ingredients that make certain foods taste like themselves.  

And let's all be honest here:  kale tastes gross.  Its taste is as pungent as its curly leaves are dark.  So as far as I'm concerned, the fastest way to label yourself a health nut is to utter the following three words, "I like kale."  Well, get out your multivitamins and safflower oil and prepare to get your health-nut on because this dish might convert you like it did me.  

Honestly, though, peanut butter + anything = tasty.

Quick Noodles with Kale & Tofu

1 bunch kale
1 package rice noodles
about 1 tablespoon canola or vegetable oil
1 package pre-baked seasoned tofu
1/4 cup creamy all-natural peanut butter
2 – 4 tablespoons organic sugar
1/2 cup lime juice
1/4 soy sauce
pinch red pepper flakes

Fill a large pot with water, and place it over high heat to boil.

While the water is boiling, trim the kale, cut or tear it into bite-sized pieces, and give it a good wash.  Set aside.

Prepare the sauce by combining the peanut butter, sugar, lime juice, soy sauce and red pepper flakes in a medium-sized bowl.  Adjust seasonings to taste, and set aside.

Heat oil in a skillet over medium to medium-high heat.  Dice up the tofu, and toss it into the pan.  Saute it until the pieces are golden and crispy.  Set aside.

By now your water should be boiling.  Add the kale and boil it for about 4 to 5 minutes.  Add the somen noodles and boil for 2 minutes more, or until they’re cooked through.  Drain the kale and noodles in a strainer, and return them to the pot.  Add your sauce, and toss to coat the kale and noodles.  Add the tofu, and gently toss to distribute it.  Serve immediately, and refrigerate any left-overs.

The Vegan Verdict

Today is November 2nd, exactly one month since Operation Go-Vegan began, and the results are in.  I don’t want to be like E! News on Monday evening who saved the Kardashian Divorce Report until the last five minutes of the news hour.  Let’s get to the juicy bits right now:  

• Mom: 10 pounds lost in two weeks
• Dad:  10 pounds lost in two weeks
• Ian:  8 pounds lost, 1” off waist in one month
• Me: 4 pounds lost, ½” off waist in one month

That’s right. My 60-year old parents, who dropped out of the race two weeks after crossing the start line, made Dr. Oz-worthy health gains.  Not fair, right?  This whole vegan experiment was MY idea, after all, and I didn’t lose five pounds each week.  

Actually, I kind of expected these results.  You see, my parents were as unfamiliar with veganism as they are with "The Facebook."  Conversely, I’ve been experimenting with vegan cooking for awhile.  So going into the 30-day challenge, I already knew how to lightly cook Seitan and how to bake cookies with canola oil and EarthBalance.  But my parents went cold turkey (pun intended), refusing to use any vegan substitutes.  Stuck eating lentils and red peppers every night, of course they lost weight quickly.  On the other side of town, Ian and I did use some vegan substitutes to fulfill our cravings and did not lose weight like gastric bypass patients.  We treated the substitutes like Nicorette, helping wean us off our addiction to dairy and meat.

It worked.  As the month passed, each day got easier than the previous one.  Now it’s November 2nd, and we have zucchini and yellow peppers marinating in our refrigerator.  So, as the four of us quickly learned, picky eaters / vegan novices will lose much more weight on a vegan diet, but will also have a harder time sticking with it because - let’s be honest - who wants to live a life without chocolate chip cookies?

Even though I didn’t drop the lbs like a paid Jenny Craig spokeswoman, I crossed the vegan finish line because it made my body feel good, inside and out.  Here are some of the positive health effects I experienced:

• Clearer sinuses:  I used to think I was an evolutionary anomaly because I periodically could not breathe through my nose.  I attributed my nasal asphyxiation to my too-small jelly-bean sized nostrils.  Incorrect.  Dairy is the real culprit.  So no dairy = no stuffy noses.
• Less bloating:  If dairy can clog up my nose, you can imagine what it was doing to my digestive system.  ‘Nuff said.  On a related note:
• Better and more regular bathroom visits:  Like my mom said, “Fiber will change your life.”  
• NO HEARTBURN: I sporadically get heartburn at night, perhaps once or twice a month. Not this month.
• Satiation: Eating vegan food this month helped me understand the difference between feeling full and feeling satiated after a meal.  Like I told Ian a few days ago, before this experiment I never really knew what it felt like to only feel full in my stomach.  Pre-veganism, I always felt burp-ey or gassy after a meal.  But eating meat-free and dairy-free foods isolates satiation in my stomach alone, and it feels great.
• Increased energy level and improved body clock: I don’t feel sluggish after meals, and that energy carries over through the rest of the day and night.  I sleep for eight hours every night, and wake up around the same time every morning.

Some anecdotal observations that may or may not have anything to do with the plant-based diet shift:

• Slower heart rate:  I’ve always had a fast heart rate.  Like 80-90 beats per minute maybe.  But something curious happened last week.  I was relaxing in bed a week ago and inadvertently felt my pulse.  I listened to it for a few seconds.  Realizing it seemed quite slower than normal, I put my first two fingers up to one of those bulging pulse centers on either side of my throat just to make sure I wasn’t going into cardiac arrest.  Nope.  My pulse was just slower.  I can’t put a number to it, but it’s definitely been a bit slower than I remember it.  I’ve heard that plant-based diets lower blood pressure, so perhaps they affect heart rate as well.
• (Earmuffs, gentlemen) Longer menstrual cycle:  My period mysteriously came (a fretful) five days later than normal in October, shifting my cycle from 25 days to 30.  If this keeps up, that means two less periods a year - yes, please!  (Added health bonus:  Research suggests that fewer periods over the course of a woman’s lifetime reduces her risk of breast cancer.)

Finally, three noteworthy secondary benefits of a vegan diet:

• Better Cooking:  I cooked more meals this month than I ever have before.  Italian flatbread, Thai Peanut Noodles, Mexican Pasta - our kitchen started to feel like Epcot, but without the overheated children and stressed out parents.  After a month cooking without animal products, I have renewed my belief that learning how to cook vegan food may be the foundation for learning how to cook, period.  Without being able to resort to adding cream cheese and bacon for flavor bursts this month, I had to master the delicate art of using spices and oils in my recipes, a much trickier albeit worthwhile endeavor.  
• Saving Money:  Not eating out + Only buying produce and grains = Major food savings!  I know folks like to say that eating a vegan diet is expensive because carrots are pricier than potato chips.  Agricultural politics aside, Ian and I saved a lot of money on food this month.  Most days, we spent less than $10 a day on food for both of us.  Just look at my Mexican Pasta recipe.  The ingredients add up to ~$8-10, and a whole pot of it usually lasts the two of us for 2-3 days!
• Spiritual Lightening:  Not to get too ethereal here, but there is something spiritually rewarding about eating a diet that is kind and compassionate to other sentient beings.

Excluding the menstrual cycle thing, Ian and my parents shared many of these benefits with me.  I’ve read that most adults do have some degree of difficulty digesting dairy products.  Unsurprisingly then, the most significant shared benefit - as experienced by three of the four of us vegan test subjects - has been a general feeling of lightness and clarity inside our bodies.

My dad was the odd man out. Eating vegan upset his stomach.  And that’s one of the downsides of a plant-based diet: some bodies do not immediately agree with a switch to a diet heavy in fiber.  So my dad understandably jumped off the vegan train to eat a poached egg.  

Ian and I are fortunate to have not had any digestive upsets like him, but we have experienced some downsides of a vegan diet.  First, we had to start watching our nutrient intake more carefully.  We bought multivitamins fortified with vitamin B12, iron, calcium, and vitamin D.  We each take one with dinner every night.  Easy.  Not being able to partake in fun size Snickers bars at Halloween on Monday night: not so easy.  This inability to participate in cultural events in a “normal” way is, without a doubt, the most emotionally and philosophically challenging aspect of any form of vegetarianism.  I’m already preparing myself for rolled eyes and hurt feelings as I politely refuse, for the first time ever, the turkey and other tasty dishes at my grandparents’ house this Thanksgiving.  

So there you have it.  I’m refusing turkey and my favorite side dish, green bean casserole, on Thanksgiving this year because - here’s the verdict - we’re sticking with it.  This month-long plant-based diet experiment has turned into an indefinite lifestyle shift for the two of us because, as we were surprised to discover, we both like being vegan.  It lightens our spirits and refreshes our bodies.

Thirty days ago, we were already planning our dinner on November 2nd.  Something cheesy.  Maybe pizza or baked spaghetti from Fazoli’s with those tasty garlic butter breadsticks.  We’re still curious to see how our bodies would react to dairy after a month of not eating it.  But when I just asked Ian if he wanted to order a pizza, he shrugged his shoulders and casually responded, “I don’t think I want anything with cheese tonight.”   C'est la vie-gan.

Vegan Experiment Update: Quitters Never Win

Three weeks ago today my parents, my husband and I began our month-long vegan challenge.  Three days ago, my parents gave up.  Their chosen instruments of failure were a Jimmy John’s Italian sub and a tuna sandwich - certainly a delicious defeat.  

Ian and I had both really wanted all four of us to cross the finish line together, so their downfall disappointed us.  But ever since the first week, we realized that our two teams were reacting to this vegan experiment differently.  Ian and I took to the diet shift quickly: we like how our plant-based meals make our bodies and our spirits feel.  Overall, we’re enjoying the physical, spiritual, and financial (from home-cooking) benefits from our new lifestyle, which I’ll expand upon once our month-long trial comes to end.  Stay tuned!

My parents had completely different reactions to the diet shift.  A week into the challenge I asked my dad how he was liking his vegan diet, and my usually diplomatic and mild-mannered father quickly and firmly responded, “I hate it.”  He had good reason to dislike the diet because, mysteriously, it was not agreeing with his system.  I recently wrote about how the higher fiber in my new diet was acting like Draino on my pipes, making me feel light and fresh.  Conversely, the high fiber in Dad’s diet acted like a power washer on his system, giving him stomach cramps and all the not-so-fun stuff that comes with those.  (He told me once in animated fashion that “apples are just not being digested at all.  At all!”)

My mom reacted well at first.  She said that eating a plant-based diet made her feel lighter and cleaner inside, and that her junk food cravings were going away.  But my mom is the kind of person who will compliment anyone on anything he tries to do.  Did you burn the popcorn in the microwave?  My mom will eat it.  Is the lettuce in your salad crisp-less and soggy?  She’ll say you’re Wolfgang Puck.  My mom is the queen of compliments, and I love the way she and my dad rush to make people feel proud of their own efforts.  So going into our vegan experiment, I expected her to start out with a rosy disposition.  

But my mom, who tends towards emotional eating, started to have some rather vocal complaints around Day 10: “All I want is one pancake.  Just one!”  And my dad joined in with her on my favorite complaint, “I’m tired of all of this chewing.  All these vegetables are making my jaw tired.”  So, stuck in vegan prison with her husband of thirty-eight years, my mom saw my dad’s give-in as her escape route back into the real world of omnivorism.

Now it’s my turn to complain - not about the diet, though.  About my parents’ failure to see it through to the end.  You see, before my dad’s firm declaration of “hate” for the new diet and my mom’s desire for “just one” pancake, they both had conspired in secret and determined that Veganism just wasn’t for them.  Merely a week or so into the process, they declared “We don’t want to eat like this forever,” and “I want to be able to eat things I like and celebrate on special occasions.”  And my parents didn’t even qualify these statements by using the external example of the Thanksgiving turkey - a cultural symbol that can puzzle even the most well-intentioned vegetarians.  No, they said that they wanted to eat the ribs at Famous Dave’s they saw advertised during Sunday Night Football.  Give that marketing team a raise.

I can’t help but think that this rationale is selfish.  From the animal rights perspective, if eating meat is a moral wrong, then the cultural significance around meat consumption shouldn’t matter, right?  In Eating Animals, Jonathan Safran Foer quotes a young animal rights activist explaining her reasons for being a vegetarian:

I love calamari, I love roasted chicken, I love a good steak. But I don’t love them without limit. [Factory farming] isn’t animal experimentation, where you can imagine some proportionate good at the other end of the suffering. This is what we feel like eating. Yet taste, the crudest of our senses, has been exempted from the ethical rules that govern our other senses.

We threw Michael Vick in jail for abusing dogs in a violent tradition that cuts across many cultures; and Catalonia, Spain just banned their emblematic tradition of bullfighting.  Yet we continue to source 99% of our meat from factory farms, which are an ethical and environmental catastrophe.  

But forget about the animal rights argument for now.  My parents failure to finish our vegan challenge makes me sad because I wanted them to like it.  And I wanted them to like it because, after reading The China Study, I’m newly convinced that plant-based diets are best for nutrition, health, and longevity.  They’re refusing a healthier lifestyle, and from the perspective of a loving child, that refusal seems selfish - that you prefer to eat what you want and die early than to eat brown rice and broccoli and live longer.  Certainly, if my father had a heart attack but was still eating bacon cheeseburgers, I could call him selfish for shortening his lifespan.  So why do I have to wait until he has a heart attack to call him selfish?  

You see, I love my parents; I want them to live a long life; and I’m sad that they’ve refused a lifestyle that likely would have lowered their blood pressure, improved their cholesterol levels, and decreased their risks of colorectal and other cancers.  Instead they’re choosing Famous Dave’s.  But I guess the real tragedy is our tendency to take our health for granted.  Now excuse me while I go bake a lentil patty.