2: Can I still call myself a vegan?

On the evolution of my veganism and why I sometimes eat cheese now.

I have a very distinct memory of sitting around the dining table in my childhood home when I was about 6 or 7 years old, slowly chewing a particularly fatty piece of steak and being absolutely revolted. My parents were firm believers that my sister and I needed to finish whatever was on our plate, and I stared at that steak for hours (realistically it was probably 20 minutes) — crying and trying again and gagging and spitting it out into a napkin and repeating. While there was no distinct turning point, no before and after of when my aversion to meat began, this particular scene comes to mind when people ask why and how I came to veganism. I joke and tell them I was playing on easy mode because I never liked meat in the first place.

This is not entirely true, I suppose. While, yes, I have hated steak since before I can remember, I was mostly fine with hot dogs, McDonald’s cheeseburgers, and this particular teriyaki chicken dish from a Japanese restaurant in our local mall. Basically, the more marinade, seasoning, and breading something had, the more likely I was to consume it without protest. Over time, though, my mom became frustrated that I would say yes to some kinds of meat and no to most others. I think it was actually her who told me what vegetarianism was, and that I could do it if I made sure to get protein from other places. I had some failed attempts between the ages of about 9 and 14, enjoying the magic free pass I had until we were on a road trip eating at some fast food chain and suddenly chicken nuggets sounded a lot more appealing than a salad composed of mainly iceberg lettuce. But my freshman year of high school I finally stuck to it, and since then I have been some form of vegetarian.

The next few years I oscillated between being a pescatarian and vegetarian, my decision dictated by how much I felt I could tolerate fish at that time. My parents joked that I wasn’t so much a vegetarian as I was a carbatarian — I replaced a lot of meat intake with an abundance of rice, pasta, and bread. And cheese. So much cheese.

In an extremely cliché turn of events, I was only at university for a few months before my interest in veganism was piqued. It all happened really quickly — I remember watching some recommended YouTube videos about veganism. I had up until this point vehemently sworn it was something I would never do. Dairy was a significant part of most of my meals, and I still had fish every once in a while. One of my best friends tried it for a couple weeks earlier in the semester, and my reaction was a mix of intrigue and disbelief. Veganism had always sounded like an extreme, something only radical hippies with unkempt hair who lived off the grid did. So why were my friends and these young, cool girls on social media all of a sudden praising this alternative lifestyle?

After a bit more watching and reading, I was a full-fledged vegan by the New Year. My parents and friends openly expected it to be a phase. But here I am, nearly 5 years later and still — by my own standards — vegan. A lot has changed, though.

Even when I was younger and flirting with vegetarianism, my reasonings were never moral or ethical ones. I didn’t really think too much about the animals’ perspective because I was mostly concerned with my own palate. As I moved toward veganism, these questions still didn’t weigh on me very much.

If I am being completely honest, one of the main things that drew me to veganism was the supposed health benefits. While I think that veganism can be an extremely nourishing and “healthy” (though I contest what that typically means to people) diet, this is not what appealed to me. I saw these gorgeous, skinny girls on YouTube and Instagram telling me that I could eat as much as I wanted and still look like them. As a 19-year-old wary of the infamous “Freshman 15,” that really had an effect on me. I have mostly decoupled myself from that disordered thinking, but I still have complicated feelings about choosing veganism based on aesthetics over most other things.

The other aspect that drew me in and that still speaks to me is the impact on the environment that eating animal products has. It is undeniable that meat is water, land, and energy-intensive, and that the scale it is produced on in the United States and many other industrialized countries makes it unsustainable. On average, the average vegan diet produces a fraction of the greenhouse gas emissions that a standard meat-eater’s diet does. Climate change is ultimately a problem that needs to be addressed in systemic and institutional ways, but I don’t think that exempts individuals from at least making an effort to examine their own habits and choices. After all, these systems and institutions do not exist in a vacuum — they are comprised of people.

In retrospect, I’m glad that during this period I was never overly preachy about these things to other people. I was always happy to talk about it and share why I made the transition, but I don’t feel that at any point I ever evangelized about it at length to others with a holier-than-thou attitude, although I would be lying if I didn’t sometimes think those types of things in my head. I will chalk that up more to my people-pleasing and conflict-avoidant tendencies more than anything else, but I think it was essential to me keeping an open mind and having a change of perspective later down the road.

Veganism at the time felt like a panacea of sorts — a simple and clear solution for both my personal problems and global ones. But I began to become more doubtful about this binary thinking — that veganism was “good” and eating animal products was “bad” — for a number of reasons in the last couple years.

For starters, I had always felt uncomfortable with the idea that everyone should be vegan given the cultural and spiritual meaning meat can take on in various and cultures and religions, especially indigenous ones. This past winter I read an article by Charlee Dyroff from the Pacific Standard in The Best American Food Writing 2019. Dyroff uncovers a question of food sovereignty in Kotzebue, Alaska where there has been a fight to serve traditional foods like wild salmon and caribou to native elders in nursing homes. It significantly improved the residents’ quality of life, and the campaign to be able to serve these wild foods in nursing homes is spreading. After reading it, I couldn’t help but think how veganism, a lifestyle predicated on compassion, would deny these people their ancestral foods, and by extension, their joy and memories.

I also think about poverty and accessibility, and how I am lucky to live in a place where I can walk or drive to a supermarket that will have fresh produce and protein alternatives when for so many this is not the reality. Even if someone has access to these ingredients, they may not have the time to commit to cooking them, and most fast food involves animal protein of some kind. I had mistakenly thought veganism was easy because it was for me but failed to realize that for many people there are massive obstacles beyond taste or preference.

Even in terms of sustainability, I realized that my diet consisted of many things that were imported from all corners of the world and that ingredients like soy also often require the devastation of places like the Amazon rainforest in South America. I learned that eating local and well-sourced food could be just as important as the decision to eat lettuce instead of beef.

So, I took a step back. I watched some Parts Unknown, read more about Western food systems, and generally let myself sit in the doubt. When I came out on the other side, I realized that perhaps my diet didn’t need to change, but the reasons behind it did. Instead of looking at veganism as a stringent identity and a matter of good versus evil, I view it now as a practice. In this practice, I try to think about all sides and make my decisions based on these considerations. I aim to reflect on my eating habits and how they interact with culture, sustainability, labor, ethics, and taste. I am trying my very best to be compassionate not just to animals, but to myself and the whole world.

I know that strict vegans will probably not consider me to be one anymore. I ate feta and mussels (they’re not actually sentient!) when I visited Greece last summer, I buy locally produced honey, and every once in a while, I will have a bit of whatever creamy and delicious thing a friend is eating. I still eat fully vegan 99% of the time and I don’t think I will ever eat meat again, save for necessity or the most special of occasions, so I can’t think that a bite of cake or a wedge of cheese every once in a blue moon negates the rest of my dietary choices. But I’m aware that as soon as those animal products passed my lips, I would be seen as an outsider to many in the vegan community (whatever that means).

The thing is, I don’t feel any less vegan now. I guess I could embrace the term plant-based, a label with more wiggle room. But I believe in the core principles and philosophies of veganism more than I ever have before. I’m starting to care less about what I call myself and more about what I do and why I do it — in more ways than this one. In the words of Alicia Kennedy, one of my favorite writers on food and culture, “I want to be a person; I don’t want to eat dead animals. Beyond that, I’m learning.” I don’t think I can put it more simply than that.

• I have been reading bell hooks’s All About Love for, like, many weeks now. I need to kick myself in the butt a little more and set aside a dedicated reading time for things that are not on a screen. Despite that, it has been so heartening to read about love in all of its forms, and it reminds me of how we often place too much importance on romantic love.

• Speaking of things that I read on a screen, I really enjoyed this by Moxie Marlinspike and this from Haley Nahman. As I scramble to find a job and figure out what the hell I even want to do with my life, reading this brought me comfort and peace for the first time in a long while. If you are also just beginning a career and/or completely demoralized from the job hunt, they might help you, too.

• I have now made this masoor dal recipe a few times, and I think it will be my go-to dish in the coming months as the weather cools down in the UK. It comes together quickly and simply — you fry the spices, aromatics, and tomatoes in oil or butter (a tadka) as the red lentils cook and become soft (note: I didn’t have the spices this exact recipe called for, but other recipes said curry powder, garam masala, turmeric, chili powder, and cumin could all be used, so I went with a combination of the things I had and I thought it turned out well). At the same time, I usually have a pot of white long grain rice going on the back burner. Combine the tadka and lentils and let the flavors mingle, and then you have a seriously warm and comforting meal to last you for at least a few days. I like to serve it with a squeeze of lemon and a couple dollops of oat yogurt.

• I also have revisited a riff off of penne alla vodka I made a little bit ago, though some may be skeptical about the ingredients. Essentially, it came to fruition when I had no vodka or vegan cream to cook with, so I thought that oat yogurt would replace both the tanginess and the creaminess that the other two respective ingredients provide. I was pleasantly surprised when my hypothesis proved to be mostly true — it’s definitely a different dish but a lot of the same notes are hit. As the pasta cooks in boiling and heavily salted water, I add shallot (or onion), garlic, and red pepper flakes to a generous amount of olive until it’s all soft and fragrant. I then add a couple (a few?) heaping tablespoons of tomato paste and let it fry for a bit. To smooth things out, I pour in a bit of water, which will reduce as the pasta boils. I let that sit on medium heat as the pasta cooks, letting the flavors deepen and sweeten. Once the pasta is a couple minutes out from being al dente, I add a couple (a few?) big spoonfuls of oat yogurt. I have tried this with other non-dairy yogurts with similar success, so I assume that dairy yogurt or even sour cream would work just as well. When the noodles are ready, I transfer them to the pan with a slotted spoon, and then add in about 1/3 cup of pasta water and a pat of vegan butter to help emulsify the whole thing. It might look soupy but since the sauce is still on heat, it will all reduce in a few minutes when it should beautifully coat every piece of penne. If you can’t tell, I never use measuring instruments so all of these measurements are approximated, but I encourage you to measure with your heart!

• My boyfriend and I finished the first part of Money Heist, a Spanish series about a group of misfits pulling off the greatest heist of all time, at the end of last week. I really enjoyed it and it was good to get some Spanish practice. But after first sobbing at the hint of a character’s death, and then the (spoiler???) actual death, I decided we needed to switch to something a bit more light-hearted so I could have a break before diving into the second part.

• Cue Emily In Paris. I assume this needs no introduction. I would say I hate-watched it, except I didn’t really hate it. Don’t misunderstand me — it is completely unrealistic, and the writing makes me wonder whether the show had been intended for 13-year-olds or 30-year-olds. However, I was not looking to be challenged or intellectually stimulated. I just wanted to watch hot people go about their lives in a beautiful city, and on that front, it more than delivered.