Didn’t your mom ever tell you that ASSumptions can make a complete A*SS out of yourself?
While many vegetarians have deliberately chosen an alternative lifestyle, void of baby veal and deliberately deprive themselves of a tantalizing T-bone, I was born an annoying, picky, anti-meat eating vegetarian, simply because I find it repulsive to rip my teeth into animal flesh. The mere thought of tearing into a spare rib leaves me shaken to the core for days. Is this a moral choice or a biological blemish? Just as homosexuality is innate, so is vegetarianism. I can’t help choosing an unconventional existence, and believe me, I do not deny myself anything I like (e.g.: chocolate, wine, pizza) and neither should you!
Yet so many friends, family, coworkers, acquaintances, and restaurant servers, continually harass me, deplore me, and stereotype me as an irritating hippie who is trying to save the world one broccoli at a time.
Carnivores: go ahead and eat your saturated-fat-ridden pork loins and heart-attack-waiting-to-happen red meat, but leave us herbivores alone. Chomp on your chicken wings swimming in a pool of ranch dressing and drowning in hot sauce while I snack on salad. I DON’T CARE so WHY should YOU?
Now and again, you may even see me handling raw chicken breasts with my own dainty fingers. On special occasions, I will make a mean chicken cutlet, but has anyone ever attempted to whip up a tofu fiesta for me? I don’t think so. And some of my favorite places to eat aren’t some weird vegan shack; they are fancy steak houses like Morton’s, Flemings and Ruth Chris, with their tasty side dishes and rich red wines.
Please be easy on us, carnivores. Us vegetarians have it rough, especially when we eat out. I continually play a Where’s Waldo? game with my food, searching for that slip of seafood that jumped overboard into my curry dish.
The laws of attraction are continually at work, especially around mealtime. According to this theory, and the whole premise of the bestseller The Secret, you attract the things in your life that you concentrate on the most. For example, if you hate your job, and are constantly thinking nasty thoughts about your boss, the situation is going to continue to get miserable. If you are me, and are deathly afraid of animal protein, it somehow finds a resting place on your plate, without your knowledge, until its too late. This hasn’t happened to me just once, but practically all the time. I now inspect my food like a doctor operates on a patient during open-heart surgery: with extreme caution and care.
In my 29 years of existence, I have unintentionally consumed more meat than I’m afraid to admit. Consider this a warning section to my fellow vegetarians and a laughing section to all the others:
1) Pork Fried Rice Delight - At a friend’s wedding, the bride and groom served Asian-fusion cuisine, one of my favorite food fares since so many dishes can be made vegetarian. Except nothing on the menu was meatless. After one too many cabernets at cocktail hour, I fell for their fried rice ruse that to my surprise, was pork-infused. I spent the rest of the reception in the bathroom battling a severe hiccup attack while my table (full of conniving carnivores) chuckled at my expense.
2) Steak Breakfast Burrito Bonanza – On Valentine’s Day last year, a girlfriend and I went to brunch at The Mission, a popular breakfast venue in San Diego, CA. Upon biting into my little Mexican joy, I discovered it was laced with steak. I immediately spit out the vile crunchy cow into my napkin and alerted my waiter she had a Code Red on her hands. Except no one in the restaurant seemed to care or want to apologize for the malicious mishap. Even the manager gave me an attitude, informing me that I would still have to pay for my corrected meal. That was the last time I ever set foot in that hellhole.
3) Cubed Rabbit Oh làlà – On Christmas Eve night, my family gathered from around the nation to dine at a fancy French restaurant in Santa Monica, CA. The sophisticated waiter at Giraffe graciously offered our first-time table a complimentary appetizer, which he described to us in the dimly lit restaurant as “polenta.” Polenta is boiled cornmeal, a staple northern Italian dish that sounds revolting, but is actually quite delectable. My greedy fork plunged into the plate and as my teeth sunk into the foreign substance, I immediately knew it was NOT mushy cornmeal. Aghast, I again spit the abominable matter into my bleached napkin and called helplessly for my waiter.
Me with a disgusted look: “There’s chicken in this dish that you said was polenta. I’m a vegetarian!”
Scheming Waiter with a sly smirk: “That’s not chicken darling; it’s rabbit. You just ate thumper.”
[Uncontrollable laughter erupts from the table. My mom is doubled over in hilarity pains]
Me, shocked: “Are you serious? That is disgusting. Why would you say its polenta?
[More laughter ensues and my waiter dashes off without an explanation or an apology. He comes back later to check on the table.]
Me, flabbergasted: “I need a new napkin since mine has been soiled with rabbit remains.”
[He takes offense to this customer request that is apparently beneath his waiter responsibilities.]
Waiter, in a condescending voice: “Oh sure, let me take your dirty napkin for you and get you a new one.”
If I wasn’t with my parents that evening, I would have made a Scarface scene, but I held my composure and nausea until we exited the disgusting dinner.
4) Fake Lettuce Wraps – I hate chain restaurants, but I make an exception for Yard House, with their tasty appetizers and killer espresso martinis. I’ve eaten there hundreds of times and always order the same thing and have never had a problem. While dining there for lunch in Palm Desert, CA, I ordered the vegetarian mushroom lettuce wraps and Chinese garlic noodles (“hold the chicken please”). My lettuce wraps came back with a weird looking white rubbery substance smothering them, and I immediately knew they were trying to push their latest marketing tactic on me: Gardein™.
According to their menu, Gardein™ is “a chicken or beef substitute made from soy, wheat, pea proteins, vegetables and ancient grains.” Assuming that all vegetarians want to eat fake meat is like assuming all men like fake breasts. While it may be true for the majority, some of just like our food and our women all-natural. Because I don’t like meat in the first place, what makes you think I would want to swallow soy sausages, garden burgers, tofu-dogs and sprinkle my mushroom lettuce wraps with an alien Gardein substance? As is customary, the waitress did not apologize for the mistake and proceeded to avoid my table for the rest of service like I was some kind of anti-meat crazed a**hole.
You may defend these restaurant establishments by stating that I should have been more observant or careful with my venison ingestion; however, I will counter that argument with poor lighting, lowered inhibitions from imbibing and mere carelessness in a social environment. But not only is it my responsibility to look out for my sensitive taste buds, it’s the restaurant’s as well – they are in the business of serving food and satisfying every customer.
My new eating-out tactic is to now wear one of those plastic bracelets that state, “SEVERE MEAT ALLERGY.” Usually reserved for those whose face blows up in ugly hives from peanut affixation, my meat bracelet will warn the raunchy restaurateurs that I’m not messing around.
Unfortunately, for all of us, the only way to really know what you’re eating is by making it with your own hands in your own kitchen. But who wants to do that?
