That \’vegan\’ thing

 

Next person that loves \’I am trying\’ to do that \’vegan thing\’ wins a one-way ticket to face-plant-into-a-heap-of-bear-shit-land. I shall take them there myself.

I am not trying. I have been smashing it for 6 months now. You\’d think that around about 5 months ago I would have given up if my lust for cheese was so intense I had lost the will to live. And it is not a \’thing\’ either. It is a diet and, for some, a part of a wider set of lifestyle choices.

 

Oh, dear, here we go… an angry vegan – the world\’s most hated kind of chick.

Can\’t wait to read this…

I will spare you the preaching. I do what I think is right for me. You are smart and, if you are reading this, you are blessed with having access to an internet connection, so finish this post and go decide for yourself if your love for burgers could ever be replaced by the ultimately irresistible kale.

I am not that person. After all, I only decided to give it a go after what possibly was a new years eve cheese overdose – I probably had enough that day to last me a lifetime. And I didn\’t struggle once in the last 6 months. I was lucky to grow up in a vegetarian family, always given the chance to have meat, but since growing around dogs, cats, the occasional sheep, a visiting cow, a recovering stork, a rooster we all wholeheartedly hated, and numerous other animal friends, we always found it pretty strange one would choose to eat these things.

** You can see my infinite love for animals, clearly depicted on the face of the suffocating brown puppy on the left. I am sorry, brown puppy**

Fish, however, was a summer delicacy. You know why? Because we caught it ourselves. I was also lucky to be born and raised in a Greek mountain village, with a father that took us on long summer adventures, free-camping around the Greek islands (the low-budget holidays that eventually made any other type of holiday seem less than average). We fished and cooked. And by \’fished\’ I mean, my brother and I performed an indefinite amount of fishing fails, where we sat on rocks with our DIY lines, waiting for massive fish to suddenly materialize on our hooks. No, kids…

After a few years of that, and some tiny-tiny fried fish our dad resentfully cooked for us, my brother decided, at the age of something like 12 years old, to acquire a spear gun! That first tiny spear gun (carefully supervised by our extremely good spear-hunter friends) slowly increased in size to follow my brother\’s sudden growth spurt during his teenage years, then was accompanied by a wetsuit, great long fins, a cheap underwater camera, an even bigger spear gun, and then, eventually, his little sister. For years, Ermis and I eat fish we catch and kill ourselves. We know our fish, we never kill rare species and we 100% draw the line on animals that have brains on their limbs (while you are at your vegan Google voyage, look up octopus tentacle brains, that shit is crazy!). We catch what we need and then explore the sea and practice free diving. Well, I say practice – Ermis can dive down to 40m in one breath – I follow him to 20m, feel like I am going to live my last moments in the middle of the sea somewhere, find the will to survive, swim up, and lose sight of him for another minute or so. Terrifying to see someone slowly disappearing into the blue-green waters. Terrifying and unbelievably awesome!

So, perhaps dat vegan thing is a little more like \’eating sustainably, only what one has the balls to kill herself\’ thing. I guess I have tiiiiiiny pair and could only kill fish, so I only did that, and I only did it for one week per year (about 7 fish). I think my balls have shrunk slightly this year and I cannot see myself taking the spear gun with me in the sea again, but that is a decision for another day. If our ecosystems and our gardens were healthy enough, maybe \’take what you need, occasionally\’ would work just fine. I think most other ways of acquiring animal protein out there are unsustainable.

On that note, dairy mass farming can go dip its bottom in acid. Big ass no to mass animal farming, in any shape or form. Even worse, perhaps, to live a life of torture, than to live a short life and eventually end up in various bits of Tesco sausage. Nah mate. Animals who live good lives and can spare an egg or two, yes, maybe.

However, if it ever happens that someone cooks a meal for me and, god forbid, they forgot eggs aren\’t vegan, I am not going to be that person that refuses food and gives vegans the reputation they work so hard building…

Wasting an egg must be way worse than eating it, no? It\’s already cooked, you drongo – ain\’t nobody gonna save that chicken now…

I hope I still get my vegan certificate after that…

Also – plastic? If plastic had a face I\’d straight up tornado kick that bitch in the jaw, superman punch its nose and jab my fingers in its eyes, every. single. day. Turtles eat it, whales eat it, even friggin albatross eat it. Believe me, I know cool shit, and that shit\’s not cool. So I try to use less of that, especially the unrecyclable little turds. When I can. Giving up plastic, however, is harder than giving up mozzarella. The struggle is equivalent, some may say, to becoming the world champion of ultimate frisbee. For example, when did we agree that it was ok for supermarkets not to give us the option to avoid plastic if we felt like we wanted to do our bit for the albatross, eh? I sure didn\’t agree for my cucumber to come wrapped in a weird plastic condom – if anything ever looked dodgier than taking that sleeve off while looking someone straight in the eye… Broccoli doesn\’t need a condom either – that shit can go ahead and multiply till it takes over the world. I like my vegetables dirty and bruised, thank you very much. I know both how to wash off the slug slime and fly turds, AND how to remove the crappy bits. I am skillful like that.

Oh, and I spend the extra pound here and there to make sure that the coffee, cocoa and bananas I buy came from a farm where people get a chance. I save that money anyway from opting out of the condom-cucumbers.

If I am furious about one thing is that we somehow have convinced ourselves that the world is the way it is because it can\’t be any other way. Perhaps that\’s why I started doing ma vegan thang – to prove to myself that just because I thought cheese was da bomb, it didn\’t mean I wouldn\’t be able to live a great life without it. It\’s just friggin cheese, not the freedom of speech. And you know what? I discovered a whole universe of recipes, great food I have been ignoring all this time.

Yes, kale is in that list too, but so are lot more exciting things. I live a healthier life, I am less guilty about the stuff I buy or use, and feel less like a first world queen that can just buy whatever the heck she likes, no matter the consequences. Plus, I know how to make all sorts of nut butter, mango sorbet, cashew cheese, carrot and kidney bean burgers, and a banging lemon drizzle cake. And I can still kick ass at kung fu 4 days a week. No lack of protein, no deficiencies.

What else do you need?

Let\’s rephrase the vegan thing then. Maybe something more like \’eating like a conscious motherf*er who thinks the food industry has plenty of room for improvement\’ thing. That\’s all I am trying to do.

And it tastes really, really good…