what better place than here, what better time than now
Something struck me this week, as I was baking up a stack of chocolate-chip cookies - how stupid I've been to buy in to animal-product culture. I keep having these forehead-slapping moments when I sub out veg products for animal and realize they're not only just as good, but often *better*.
You don't need butter or eggs to make a succulent, crumby, puffy chocolate chip cookie. F*ing amazing!
You don't need parmesan cheese to make a decadently creamy basil-mint pesto. Guess what works instead? F*ing nutritional yeast flakes! I kid you not. I'm a foodie among foodies, and I couldn't for the life of me tell the difference.
This vegan thing is completely punk rock.
This, of course, leads me to a different sort of question - why am I the weirdo?
Farmed-animal cruelty is not uncommon knowledge. The perils of cholesterol aren't, either. Nor is the inherent benefit of a veg-based diet...or milk sensitivity in, like, everybody..nor the obscene tax on the environment from the farmed-animal industry...nor mercury in fish, nor the high concentration of other inorganic toxic compounds in meat/dairy/eggs, nor any of the other billions of things that are wrong with eating animal schtuff.
So why do I get the "crazy hippie" treatment for opting out? Or the "what DO you eat"?
Bear and I were walking to the Blue Hen in Eagle Rock yesterday. The hours there are as wonky as the food is transcendent, so we had a few minutes to kill before we could claim a table; we decided to take the opportunity to explore. After a delicious amble through the secret-garden neighborhood tucked just above it, we made our way back along Colorado. Passing Tommy's, a wave of lardiness rose up from the fryer to assault us, drifting up through the air and off the faces of the sausage-shaped family at the outdoor table.
We just looked at each other and laughed - 'cause we're free.