I Know You Miss...

Bring up the issue of using meat analogues (or "mock" meats) on any vegan forum and you have my guarantee that the responses you will obtain will be quite varied; a few may even end up being of surprising intensity. Some love them and incorporate them readily into their regular meals, while other vegans feel pretty wigged out by what can sometimes be their fairly realistic taste and texture. Some view them as convenient, particularly when serving meals to non-vegans who are accustomed to having meals revolve around animal flesh; others view them as a reminder of the fact that most of society views meals as necessarily revolving around animal flesh. Some will even go so far as to express outright disapproval of their consumption. Some, on the other hand, address it with a bit more levity.

Whole Foods

My own journey towards veganism was long and slow, starting out with a vegetarian diet (too) many years ago which involved basic whole foods from the start. When I first decided to stop eating meat back in university, even tofu was something you could pretty much only find in bulk in a bin at a health food store. Most of the books on vegetarianism available to me were old natural foods cookbooks from the 60s and 70s I managed to find in secondhand bookstores (think Recipes for a Small Planet, for instance); they obviously predated what's become the mainstreaming of processed vegan foods. Instead of calling for a tube of Gimme Lean, a "meat" loaf recipe was more likely to call for mashed soybeans, nuts and vegetables. Burger recipes often consisted of beans, whole grains and grated vegetables instead of anything intended to in any way replicate the taste or texture of beef. I learned to cook from scratch in this manner and most of my cooking didn't involve trying to mimic animal products.

An Expanding Niche Market

Times have changed, though. At some point, soy dogs started to pop up everywhere, along with a growing variety of hamburger-like veggie burgers. Soy-based deli slices -- mock pepperoni, salami, smoked "turkey" and so on -- began to show up in ordinary supermarkets. The more time passed, it seemed, the wider the variety of options which became available -- and the more realistic those options became. Living with a non-vegetarian at the time whose mantra was "If you cook it, I'll gladly eat it!" but who himself tended to lean towards convenience when needing to forage in the kitchen, I started to include some analogues on our shopping lists. I tried some of them out of sheer curiosity and ended up using some semi-regularly for convenience or variety. I'll admit that first tube of Gimme Lean! I bought after years of not having had animal products really wigged me out, although I quickly got used to it, knowing that it was plant-based.

Say "Cheeze"!

Processed fake cheese products have also increased in variety and improved tremendously in taste and texture. I remember the first time I had soy slices before going vegan and how they invariably seemed to contain casein and to smell like old sneakers. Perhaps because of this, most discussions of satisfying "cheese" cravings on the vegetarian and vegan message boards I frequented at the time involved recipes for nutritional yeast sauces or discussions of Joanne Stepaniak cookbooks, which included recipe for soy, nut or nutritional yeast "cheeses" of wide-ranging flavour and consistency. Today we have any number of completely vegan-friendly cheese analogues available, including Teese, Sheese, Follow Your Heart's Vegan Gourmet line and the latest (and it seems most popular) addition, Daiya.

At first only available in selected US restaurants or by mail order, Daiya has ended up in health food stores across North America and is now, too, becoming available in regular supermarkets. When it was first introduced in one chain's store in my tiny city, the 2-3 dozen packages of cheddar and mozzarella Daiya were sold out within a few days. Aside from being completely vegan, Daiya is also soy-free and has that rare trait that cheese substitute manufacturers have tried in vain to reproduce for years -- it's stretchy like dairy cheese.

The cheese substitutes have been an occasional indulgence for me. I've most often picked them up when I've had non-vegan house-guests, although I do wholeheartedly appreciate a good plate of nachos topped with gooey Nacho Vegan Gourmet or Daiya Cheddar Style Shreds. Although I'm generally quite thrilled with topping pizza with sweet potatoes or hummus and a mixture of tasty and tangy vegetables (see photo below on the left), sometimes it's nice to indulge in some Daiya Mozzarella Style Shreds just for kicks (see photo below on the right). Unlike many meat analogues, which are often fortified with any number of additional vitamins and minerals, cheese "subs" are often bereft of any notable nutritional value and on top of their being processed foods, are also rather junk-y foods..










Assumptions

Not being a heavy or frequent consumer of meat or cheese substitutes, I've never really thought about how their consumption could appear on the outside looking in. At least I didn't until I had a conversation with a non-vegan friend one day about my experimentation with Daiya when a local health food store first began to carry it. I mentioned pizza and she brought up that she'd had friends over the previous weekend for pizza and movies. She told me that she'd mentioned to one of her guests how I would have loved to have been there, but that it would have been "cruel" for me, since I "missed cheese pizza" and had told her once, many many years ago, how I used to love Italian sausage on my pizza. She told me that she figured that it would have been tempting for me. I asked why she'd think that and she said that I was "obviously excited about finding substitutes to satisfy my cravings".

I sat back at that point and then mentioned to her that after many years of not eating meat and years of not eating cheese that I craved neither. I told her that I now associate animal products with the animals from whom they're taken and that this involves being aware of how that comes to happen -- something I completely reject on both intellectual and visceral levels. I pointed out that during most of my transition to veganism, I'd settled into making dishes which didn't really involve trying to substitute animal products. "Yeah, but you're obviously excited about Daiya for a reason," she said. I wasn't, though. At least I wasn't for the reasons she was assuming.

Substitutes have generally been items I've used to offer up to non-vegans to make plant-based foods feel more familiar to them. Daiya was (and is) just a fun plant-based ingredient for me to use to make dishes I used to make. It's just one of several plant-based options for me and since most of my cooking over the years has involved -- and still involves -- focusing on whole foods, processed substitutes aren't things upon which I rely at all. But after that conversation, I was left wondering how it appears on the outside looking in and what, if anything, I needed to do to address that. The truth is that I don't crave animal flesh and that the idea of deliberately consuming animal products is repugnant to me. I recognize analogues for what they are. They may provide some sense of familiarity, but without exploitation -- which is what I reject. I don't "miss" eating animal products, but I wonder if my sometimes consuming analogies is sending out a different message to non-vegan friends and family members. Could this be one more thing that needs to be lumped in when educating non-vegans about veganism?

Reading Between the Lines in Restaurant Reviews

Why is it that over half of all vegan cookbook or restaurant reviews in the media always start with the writer asserting quite adamantly that (s)he has rejected veganism? The most trivial of reasons are given in a flippant manner and, before the actual review has even begun, the writer often finds a way to disparage or misrepresent veganism or vegan-friendly products. This is often done by perpetuating misconceptions and stereotypes of vegan food; it's also too-often nestled in a jumble of misunderstanding of what is even meant by "vegan" or "vegetarian". What's funny is that readers who may be most interested in reading reviews of vegan or vegan-friendly restaurants in their area are likely vegan or at least open to the idea of eating plant-based food. What could possibly be accomplished, then, in using antipathy as a starting point for an article? And what could possibly be so difficult about doing a small bit of research beforehand -- particularly when writing for the public -- to actually get simple facts and definitions straight?

Part One

In a recent piece on a media website in Pennsylvania called Upper Moreland-Willow Grove Patch, "classically trained chef" and self-described "avid carnivore" Heather Greenleaf provides readers with a review of a restaurant in Huntingdon Valley, PA called Wild Ginger. It's not really the critique of the dishes served up at this "restaurant specializing in vegetarian and vegan cuisine" that is problematic -- it was actually mostly positive; what left me rolling my eyes was mostly the context she provided for the review.

For instance, Greenleaf presents processed meat substitutes as being some sort of necessity for those who don't consume animal flesh. She then describes her own negative experiences with a few of them as having left her opting not to play masochist with her taste buds and as having cemented her decision to continue eating non-human animals :

In recent years, I have tasted various garden burgers, imitation bacon products and tofurkies. In each instance their displeasing taste and texture have confirmed that I simply don’t have the commitment needed to adhere to this diet.

I've served up substitutes to any number of non-vegans over the years and have more often than not witnessed positive reactions. Regardless of this, though, who needs heavily processed meat substitutes to not eat animals? Has she been reading too much of Mark Bittman's gibberish?

Perpetuating the idea that vegan food is generally yucky to set the tone for a review of a vegan-friendly restaurant is bad enough; it's when she contextualizes further and goes on to spell out what she describes as "levels" of vegetarianism, however, that she really fumbles quite badly.

[Her many friends] eat at various vegetarian levels – some eat fish but not red meat, some eat beef but not pork, and some have chosen to be vegan, giving up all animal proteins including dairy and eggs. [...] Each of their diets has many restrictions, and I imagine that it is hard for them to find something on a menu when eating out.

Of course, eating one species of animal but not another is not "vegetarian", and I hardly think that choosing not to eat cows would in any way leave anyone struggling to find something to eat on a menu. Also, veganism is most certainly not just a variation or "level" of vegetarianism (nor is it merely a "diet" for that matter). It's evident that Greenleaf is horribly confused about terminology and even basic biology, though, when she writes that she and her dining partner were "committed to eating like we were vegetarians" and that they proceeded to order octopus: "I’m not sure whether cephalopods count as meat, or if they are technically fish, but the dish was wonderful."

The rest of Greenleaf's review involves discussing and praising actual vegan dishes, although again dwelling on how "realistic" the meat substitutes in one were. Even though she does go on to praise the food she and her friend consumed, her positive review still remains swaddled in misunderstandings of both vegetarianism and veganism -- and she leaves her readers no doubt that she is convinced that the vegan food she did actually try at Wild Ginger was more an exception than the rule.

Part Two

A second review I read this morning was featured on Houston's CultureMap media site. In "Where's the cheese? A meat eater takes on the new Heights Ashbury coffeehouse's vegan offerings", writer Sarah Rufca begins by making it clear that the idea of not using animals for food is unthinkable to her, and that sending her to review vegan dishes was a mistake: "Cheese is my favorite food, and my second favorite food is all meats. It's just not going to work."

As if to present herself as earnestly wanting to try to find something positive to write, she insists that the decor at the coffeehouse was swell. The bulk of her food review, on the other hand, was mighty unfavorable. What's worse is that she twice mentions grading dishes "on a vegan curve", as if it's to be expected that the taste and quality of the food should be lesser without animal products. She also ends up assessing dishes based upon how accurately they mimic non-vegan dishes which ordinarily rely heavily upon animal products:

I ordered the macaroni and cheese dish, which I'll admit upfront was a mistake. At the moment, I was working under the impression the food was merely vegetarian, and I was not remotely ready for the introduction of a cheese sauce imposter. As far as cheese substitutes go, this one wasn't terrible [and i]f I was grading on a vegan curve I would call it not bad, but compared to the real deal it just doesn't hold up.

She comments positively on the Niçoise salad she orders, but then assesses it in terms of its lacking "the signature fishy taste" which usually comes from the tuna and anchovies in its traditional non-vegan form. At this point, I had to wonder if it had occurred to her to try a dish that wasn't attempting to offer itself up as a plant-based replica of one which ordinarily relies on some sort of animal product. So many non-vegans -- and sometimes vegans, too-- have a hard time thinking outside of the omni-box when it comes to meals; they readily assume that vegans need fake _____ on their plates for a dish to be satisfying and delicious. The coffeehouse's website lists no menu, so it's hard to speculate whether or not she had some options made available to her which weren't simply trying to emulate ordinarily animal-product heavy dishes.

She spends the rest of the review finding something to criticize about each subsequent dish she samples -- the only item that's praised is a glass of lemonade! The truth is that Rufca walked into the place with her mind already made up about vegan food. She sums up her visit by bringing up the "vegan curve" again, making it clear that expectations concerning vegan food should somehow be lower: "If it wasn't vegan food, it'd be terrible. But for what it is, maybe it's OK." To be fair, it's possible that the food at the coffeehouse Rufca reviewed actually wasn't great. Whether or not it was, though, it never really stood a chance of being assessed for what it was, instead of being assessed for what it was lacking. Even if it had been tasty, I've no doubt that Rufca, too, would ultimately have left her readers thinking that it was just a fluke in the otherwise gustatory wasteland which she believes vegans inhabit.