I’ve often remarked that my mother was a “closet vegetarian,” given that she was married to a butcher and yet wouldn’t eat beef, ate almost no chicken and hated most fish or seafood (except the rare canned tuna).
When my dad took his weekly day off from the shop and spent it cooking a huge batch of his “famous” vegetable soup, my mother vetoed any bones or meat in the broth, lest she refuse to eat it.
Needless to say, it wasn’t a huge surprise that I leaned toward a vegan diet when I first lived on my own at university. That, and the fact that my father (my sole source of information about anything to do with meat) cautioned that “everything they serve in a restaurant is garbage.” Coupled with the common description of cafeteria burgers as “mystery meat,” it was incredibly easy to remain vegetarian for those years as a student.
Later, when the HH and I had been together barely five years, I was diagnosed with candida overgrowth. Not just “any” candida overgrowth, mind you; the worst candida overgrowth my naturopathic doctor had seen in all his 25 years of practice. As a result, I was required to strike meat, dairy, gluten, all sweeteners, all fruits, all processed foods, anything artificial, coffee, alcohol, most nuts and any moldy foods (such as peanuts, pistachios and mushrooms) from my diet. Clearly not a huge leap to a vegan diet at that point.
But these days, it seems like veganism is enjoying its own time in the spotlight.
Famous celebs tout the health benefits and ethical concerns; billionaires bent on stopping climate change by culling cows from centuries-old family farms tout their own companies’ fake meat to replace the animals; we’re told that bugs will replace other animal foods (though not really vegan, now, are they) and that a plants-only diet can save the environment, our health and the planet.
And yet, no one seems worried about the welfare of all those plants.
Many years ago, right about when I first started teaching, I knew exactly one person who was vegan. At the time, I’d done some minimal reading about different diets and understood what "vegan" meant, but had never actually met one of the species in the flesh (no pun intended).
But my colleague (let’s call her “Ms. Plant-Based”) was very hip and cool, sporting both bleached blonde, spiky hair and faux-leather corsets (those days were just on the heels of Madonna's pointy bra, after all). So I screwed up my courage and invited her and her dark, brooding boyfriend to dinner.
I have to give them credit for actually eating what I served. It's not that any of it was particularly distasteful on its own--I did know how to cook, after all--but I threw together such a hodge-podge of disparate dishes (based solely on the fact that each was devoid of animal products) that the menu was fairly, shall we say, "eclectic."
The situation was reminiscent of one my old friend M used to describe to me: far too often when acquaintances first learned he was gay, they'd blurt out, "Oh, I know another gay guy! Why don't I fix you up with him!" (assuming, of course, that their shared sexual orientation would, on its own, give rise to an immediate and eternal love affair).
Well, that's how I treated my vegan dishes that evening, I'm sorry to say. Ever had buckwheat-stuffed samosas alongside mango and curry rice, with sweet and sour carrot and parsnip patties? Oh, and with a side of guacamole? Well, I have. And it wasn't pretty, trust me.
It was during our dinner that Ms. P-B began to worry aloud about the direction in which she foresaw her diet heading. No, she wasn't fretting about such stereotypical vegan concerns as how to acquire enough calcium or where to get sufficient vitamin B12. Ms. P-B, it turned out, was ruminating (oops, sorry--again, no pun. . . ) about cruelty to vegetables.
After cutting out meat, then fish, then eggs and dairy, then every other non-produce foodstuff from her diet, Ms. P-B now wondered how she could continue to consume even vegetables and fruits.
Eventually, she surmised, "I'm just not sure how I can justify eating carrots raised in fear."
(Side note: In retrospect, I’m glad the HH and I weren’t yet together at that time. Had he been sitting at that table, I’m certain, he could not have contained himself. And that would have been not only the end of the evening, but the end of my friendship with Ms. P-B, too).
Well, apart from giving me nightmares about carrots suffocating in plastic bags, carrots crammed one on top of another into too-small cartons, baby carrots being clubbed to death, etc., Ms. P-B did introduce the notion that we could all stand to be a bit more mindful of what we put into our bodies.
As we know, all living things (this would include plants, of course) emit an energy field; and recent new-agey theories focus quite directly on the impact our own "energy" has on the outcome of our lives (as in, "the intention you set will influence the outcome you achieve," for those of you who've seen or read The Secret). Then there are also Emoto's amazing studies on the effects of energy on water, for instance.
On a more pragmatic level, is it possible the energy in our food has an impact on us? And that we have an impact on the food? Well, in the words of one of my holistic nutrition instructors, “Yes."
Holistic nutritionists have long asserted that "dead" foods (such as highly processed or GMO products), being composed to a large degree of chemicals and non-organic materials, harbor no real, "living" nutrients, and so can't, in any meaningful sense, nourish us. That also explains why we can gorge on various fast foods and pre-packaged foods, yet still remain “hungry” even after consuming massive quantities of them.
In the end, it may behoove us to treat our orange roots with a little more consideration. But it's those non-foods that should really incite fear, I think.
Over the years, my own food prescription has become fairly clear and fairly basic (apologies to Michael Pollan): Eat plants. Many raw. Not too much else.
I’ve managed to maintain that general approach to eating to this day. As I’m wont to tell the HH, “The more plants I eat, the better I feel.”
And it’s my plant-heavy diet, with almost no processed or artificial foods, to which I attribute my general good health (no major illnesses in my 60s, no prescription medications, no aches or pains to speak of). This level of health evolved slowly, over many years, as I cleared candida symptoms and the accompanying inflammation from my body. To be sure, I still have a ways to go, but eating this way feels right to me.
Nowadays, when people ask if I’m vegan, my answer is, “mostly.” Over time, I’ve reintroduced a few animal products into my repertoire, though I have to admit that meat, chicken and fish don’t really appeal all that much, and I’d be fine never eating them again. The HH, on the other hand, declared a “praise be to God” for the return of these ingredients into the regular kitchen rotation.
I do like the way my friend Lisa describes her own diet as comprised of “kind food.” The definition really allows for almost any food as long as it’s been raised, or grown, with the ultimate aim of kindness toward animals, people and the environment.
And yes, a healthy diet can, I believe, include animals. I know such a statement seems a travesty coming from a holistic nutritionist, but I don’t believe, as do many plant-oriented people, that a vegan diet is the best choice for everyone.
Since I first became a holistic nutritionist back in 2004, I’ve met vibrant, healthy vegans who’ve eaten that way for more than 25 years. I’ve also met wasting, grey-skinned vegans whose bones jutted out at the hips and who, clearly, were not thriving. I’ve met people whose illness was aided by switching to a plants-only diet and those whose health was restored through a meat-heavy diet. It really depends on the person, their metabolism, their health history, their personal preferences and a host of other factors.
Oh, and so what ever became of Ms. P-B?
A few years after our inauspicious dinner, she announced that she was pregnant. During the subsequent nine months, "for the health of the baby," she returned to eating meat and continued to do so after the baby was born. She was still eating animal products up until we lost touch about a decade ago.
I have no idea whether she continued to eat carrots, though.
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My almost 90-year-old mother believes food is medicine. Looking at her radiant health with no aches and pain or prescription medication, I believe her. Her diet is very much like yours, plant-based and kind. Good for you!