Update on the Great Vegan Experiment.
Turns out I’m a horrible vegan simple because I keep forgetting I’m trying to be one. We’re only a couple days in and there have already been probably five or more times someone has offered me a bite of something and I’ve happily tried it only to realize a second later… “Blurg! Eggs/milk shakes/sushi/cheese burgers are totally not vegan! Fail!” Case and point, as I was writing the beginning of this post David came up and announced that he had made a new batch of his fantastic homemade bbq sauce and asked what I thought of it as he handed me a plate with some sauce and a handful of popcorn chicken bites… which of course went straight into my mouth. (Maybe my eating without thinking about it is actually a bigger indicator of a problem with my food habits… hmmmm.)
Anyway, only two of those mishaps have involved actual meat so thus far I am almost entirely vegetarian and mostly vegan. It’s harder than I thought but mostly because the cooking of my vegan fair almost always takes three times as long as cooking regular… not as much at dinner as lunch but still. A grilled veggie sandwich takes substantially longer to construct then the tuna melt that Verona is happy scarfing down.
An upside is that I’m exploring the different brands of vegan products… some brands of cheese suck so so so much, some not so much… and I’ve been introduced to a fake chicken nugget that is so damn fantastic I’m going to keep buying them for us regardless of our meat consumption.
Today I will be cheating-ish. Remember my “I’m not going to be an asshole” clause? Well today the residential community for developmentally disabled people that our church helps with and is neighbor to is hosting a big progressive lunch so people can get better acquainted with who they are. This is not a monstrous residential complex with cafeteria food that can be passed over without hurting anyone’s feelings, it’s a handful of houses with people who have become a part of our community and dishes handmade with love for us by adorable little old women in their own kitchens, friends, and volunteers. So I’ll try to steer myself around the meat, but to reject the heartfelt offering of the grandmother you wish you had because she used cream in the sauce I’m 100% would buy the pope himself a one way ticket to hell.