Diary of a Vegetarian
- “But you eat fish, don’t you?”
If I had a euro every time someone asked me that question, I’d be
a wealthy vegetarian.
Vegetarian. According to the Oxford Dictionary it’s
a noun, meaning a person who abstains from animal food. The same dictionary
claims that a vegan is also a noun and refers to a person who doesn’t
eat or use animal products.
Crystal clear to you and me. A mystery to the rest of the world. This
became evident again recently when I was invited to a reunion dinner with
some ex colleagues. When I heard that there were 2 set menus to choose
from, I knew I was in trouble.
Set menu one offered seafood cocktail as a starter and beef as a main
course. The second option was ham and melon salad followed by salmon.
I rang the person who organised the dinner.
- “I have a problem with the menus. I’m a vegetarian you
see.”
- “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll ring the restaurant
and tell them you’ll go for the starter from menu one and the main
course from menu two. They’re very flexible!”
- “….But I just told you, I’m vegetarian”
- (silence) “You mean you don’t eat fish?”
- *sigh*
Set menus are always a nightmare. As a veggie, you're forced to play food
jigsaw puzzle, collecting dishes from the different options. It's a lot
of hassle and the waiters hate you because they get totally confused.
They take their revenge by serving you the wrong things and throw you
evil looks all evening. I wouldn’t be surprised if the expression
“revenge is a dish best served cold” was coined by a confused
and angry waiter.
There is, believe it or not, always worse. There are those evenings when
you’re invited to a restaurant and you simply know that by the end
of the evening, everybody’s going to know you as the weird veggie.
It starts when you’re handed the menu. You're frantically scanning
the pages looking for the vegetarian options. There are usually a few
starters that are ok but the main courses are all off limits. Your stress
level rises because by this time, everyone else has obviously made their
choice and have put their menus down. Then comes the dreaded moment when
your table companions start to interrogate each other on what they’ve
chosen. They turn to you.
- “I’m afraid I’m going to have to go for a couple
of starters. I’m a vegetarian you see.”
Total silence. Then:
- “Do you eat fish?”
- “ Well, no.”
Total astonishment.
The first person to recover from shock is usually the one to offer assistance.
- “You could go for the chicken without the chicken. Or the
salmon without the salmon. Or the seafood pasta and I’ll single-handedly
pick out all the prawns for you.”
You end up ordering a couple of starters which, again, doesn't endear
you to the waiters. Then comes the moment that really singles you out
as the strange one. Everyone gets their meal at the same time, while you
are left to wait. Which of course means that the others don’t want
to start before you get yours. When it finally turns up, they all stare
at your plate to see what you're having and the person who was kind enough
to offer assistance before, now tries to sound enthusiastic.
- “That looks …. nice.”
Sounds about as convincing as the captain of the Titanic, telling the
passengers that it was a really small iceberg and everything will be alright.
By that time, you just want the ground to open up and swallow you whole.
The only time when an ordeal like this is funny and amusing, is when you
can share it with a fellow veggie. Safety in numbers. A while ago a number
of us were invited to an after work dinner. Again, the only available
vegetarian options were the starters. My veggie buddie and I ordered a
number of starters in a rather accusatory tone of voice which didn’t
miss its effect because no one even dared to ask whether or not we eat
fish.
We felt bold and rebellious. Brave as two vegetarian musketeers. Like
rebels, with a cause.
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