comforts, confessions

it recently occurred to me that it's been quite some time since i was vegan. my first brush with dairy after nearly 3 years of cheat-free, rather blissful veganism, transpired in the warm, swank dining room of the wondrous Zahav, when I impulsively forked a tiny bite of soft sheep's milk cheese into my mouth. i told myself that it was kind of a special occasion, and didn't feel too guilty or weird.

that was back in 2009, when we still lived in our big, bustling house in west philly. for the next few months, random encounters with animal products followed, though i stuck firmly to the diet i'd chosen on a day-to-day basis. the times when i relented were sometimes wonderful (a dollop of fresh whipped cream on a 4th of july blueberry cobbler will remain in my memory for the rest of my life), and sometimes awkward and regret-filled (day-old mozzarella panini hurriedly consumed in the cramped office of the cafe where i worked at the time). it wasn't until sister Lauren started working the cheese counter at diBruno Brothers that i realized that i was ready to re-enter a state of mind where the occasional egg or wedge of cheese should not make my heart feel like shit. it didn't mean that i didn't care about animals, or the environment, or my own health. as an emerging adult, i felt i could hold onto my beliefs while re-exploring a significant culinary genre that i'd been keeping the lid on. and for the most part, i'm proud to say, i haven't gone totally nuts with the dairy, and still have a big, fuzzy place in my heart for completely vegan snacks and meals.

but, when the world feels harsh, or bed calls from the moment you leave it, or you spend the afternoon at work fighting off loneliness or some unnamed, mild despair, there can be true comfort in the products of animals. last week, i had just that sort of day, and found myself walking through the city twilight and right into the doors of diBruno brothers, the mothership of my acquaintance with fine, fine cheeses. there, my sweet friend and smiling cheese monger Rich sold me a small piece of an italian cheese he'd brined in beer and aged in-house. on my way to the counter, i couldn't help but scoop up a few olives from their sturdy barrel, and a slim baguette from its low basket. an idea was forming in my head, and i was already breathing a bit easier. i listened to a podcast from the Moth on the walk back to my house, letting the anxiety of the day go, knowing that these newly acquired snacks, little soul bandages of comfort, were jostling around in my bag.

home in the kitchen, i made quick work of plating the cheese, olives and slices of bread. a glass of malbec in a juice glass set up on the dining room table, and i sat down in complete silence to this unfussy cheese plate for one.

i ate slowly, with the true pleasure of knowing that this was all mine. cheese plates are often social affairs: your party hunched over the table with rounded knives drawn, comparing little bits of this or that, goat or cow, cracker or bread, lavender honey or fruited compote. but this was altogether different. this was a solo moment - in fact, a rather grown up moment, as i saw it- where i had been feeling down and knew myself well enough to seek out this simple remedy. the cheese was sweet, soft, rich, and just a little dank; not too challenging but not boring in the least. tallegio-esque, but with a different edge of intensity. as i quietly consumed it, i just started to feel really good. and though the me of four years ago would probably take offense to this statement, i felt it strong in that moment: dairy is a comfort. whether due to some biological reasons i know not of, or the more obvious connection to our first meals as humans and the physical bond to our mothers, it soothes in ways that sometimes friendly words or acts of kindness cannot.

sometimes i think this blog needs a new name (man, but i don't want to give up our logo! i love that thing!). lauren and i have bandied about a few ideas, but nothing seems quite right. i'm sure the answer is out there somewhere, but until we stumble across it thanks for putting up with the unarguable contradiction of a "vegan" blog whose authors swoon over water buffalo cheese...

love,
emily

can't trace time

i'm sitting here in the kitchen, finishing a simple dinner of roasted purple potatoes and oyster mushrooms with sun dried tomato & parsley pesto, and a nice big side salad. the radio is playing softly in the background, but i'm not paying much attention. maybe it was the long, heated discussion i had with my friend carrie earlier today about food and american culture, but i'm feeling a little sentimental tonight.

how things have changed since i swore off meat in 1996. that the words vegetarian, vegan, raw, gluten free, and locavore are even present in the mainstream vernacular is something spectacular. at the dawn of my vegetarianism, the only people publicly meat-free that i knew of were my fellow politicized punks and hardcore kids, hippies, and people motivated by religious doctrines. foods that are now relatively easy to find in regular groceries (tofu, organic produce, ancient grains, carob, etc.) were only available in my hometown's small natural foods co-op, which smelled funny and was certainly not a place for one-stop-shopping. this was before whole foods moved east, before isa had cookbooks for sale on amazon, before farmer's markets were in every public park on saturdays. it's weird to say this, but they really were different times - barely 15 years ago! i'm not sure exactly who to thank (i'm sure an accurate list would include tens of thousands of names), but the foodscape i face now as a vegetarian is a million percent more accommodating then when i first embarked on this personal culinary journey.

this was driven home even more while i was walking around reading terminal market on monday, killing a bit of time before meeting mom and sis at the philadelphia flower show. while cruising the many stalls hawking both edible and non-food wares in this most excellent philadelphia institution, i veered off into a cook book store. while browsing, i came across a sight that made my heart swell:

this was only about 1/2 the shelf, too!

an entire shelf dedicated to vegan cookbooks! the vegetarian and produce-centric books took up almost another two shelves, as well. even in this snapshot, there are vegan tomes for every taste: the calorie conscious (i.e. "skinny bitch"...i want to hate it but must ask - is it better than nothing?), the time-strapped ("fresh & fast vegan"), the conscious parent ("vegan lunch box"), and the post-punk warrior ("veganomicon," i will never tire of thee).

and so while the world is still riddled with problems, and most americans' diets are somehow worse than ever, there is a silver lining. many people who used to have no clue, at least know what veganism means, however vaguely. businesses and stores that specialize in vegan, vegetarian, and natural products are flourishing. it's becoming normalized to spend time thinking and talking about how our diets affect agriculture, animal cruelty, the environment, the economy, and of course, our health. for sure, i could go on about this for many more paragraphs, but i'll just leave it at this: there are so many things about the current state of our world that scare me shitless. thankfully, one thing that bolsters me and helps me feel brave is knowing that, as far as personal diet choices go, i am less alone than ever before.

love,
emily