Brent Meersman ponders whether veganism and being a food writer can go together.
“Nobody listens to vegans,” a good vegan friend warned me. “People think Vegans come from Planet Vega. We are out there with people who are transgender.” Indeed, a couple of years ago, after telling somebody in Garies in the Northern Cape I was vegetarian they smiled and offered me chicken.
Now, I’m quite comfortable with being considered abnormal, unpatriotic, and a danger to animal husbandry. I’m less happy being considered an extremist, a borderline eco-terrorist, and a danger to myself. I’m definitely unhappy to be thought of as militant, wrong and illogical.
Going vegan has been almost like a second coming out. You sit at a typical suburban gathering, ribs and sausages sputtering on the braai nearby. People are offering beer to their badly behaved dogs. Everyone is salivating at the sizzling smells.
Do I tell them now? Start gently, you think. “I forgot to say,” you apologise to your hosts, “I’m vegetarian.”
I haven’t nearly run out of things to write about for Once Bitten – there is still a cornucopia of worthy subjects – the many vegan options presented by the cuisines of India, South East Asia, Mexico and the Levant; the meaning of the vegan revolution in Israel; the new, intriguing vegan artisanal food movement, including fermented and age-matured vegan cheeses.
But readers expect reviews of the latest places, chefs and trending foods, and I’ve largely exiled myself from that world. My inbox is full of invitations for steak, but I’d rather tell you about seitan. I wonder if you’re interested.
See full story by Brent Meersman in the Mail & Guardian
Brent Meersman continues writing about food (vegan) on his blog. Follow him on Twitter @Brent_Meersman
