Diary of a Vegetarian

As if we’d died and gone to veggie food heaven. That’s what 5 days in Bohemian Brighton felt like. Now, let’s get one thing straight: I’m not getting paid by the Brighton Tourist Board, no one is sponsoring me and I haven’t been blackmailed or coerced into writing this article.

Right, now that this is clear, let me start to rant and rave about the choice of vegetarian restaurant in this wonderful seaside town.

We’d heard of Terre-à-Terre before and each and every comment was nothing short of mouth-wateringly wonderful. To say that our expectations were high is an understatement the size of Elton John’s ego. No offence, Elt!

The other veggie heavens we visited were The George and Food for Friends. Oh, and Red n' Veg of course which makes you wonder why anyone with a brain cell that works still goes to traditional fast food restaurants.

The treat when visiting these restaurants already starts with the menu. Being veggie, you are so used to quick menu scanning, mentally crossing off every dish that has fish or meat in it and then weighing up the 2 or – if you’re lucky – 3 options that are left. Not this time though. We kind of look at each other in desperation. The choice is overwhelming and it all looks totally yum. Terre-à-Terre lived up to it’s expectations. And then some. I can't begin to describe the food without resorting to the gushy blurb that usually accompanies reviews of the latest posh restaurant.

Then The George. Pub grub for vegetarian kings and queens. G. had bangers and mash in a red wine sauce and for a minute I thought she was going to serenade her food.

Food for Friends was gorgeous and I wish someone would tell me who these people are because I really really want to ask them if they would be my friend too!

These are the kind of places that you could go to all again and again, work your way through every dish on the menu and then start all over.

Returning to normal life after a holiday is difficult for anyone but it's extra hard when you feel you have just spent 5 days in vegetarian utopia. A couple of days into our first week back at work, we went down to the staff restaurant to be confronted with slabs of raw liver, waiting to be prepared. Even our carnivore colleague was sickened by the sight and totally put off her food. Some weeks later, our company’s caterer advertised poultry soup with leek and potatoes as being suitable for vegetarians and in that same week, we went to have something to eat in the evening, only to find that all of a sudden dishes containing chicken, tuna and squid had mysteriously turned into vegetarian dishes.

It can all become a bit too much sometimes and I all of a sudden felt a strange affinity with Paris Hilton. It must be quite a shock to leave behind your zillion dollar pad in California, with walk-in wardrobe, and trade it for a prison cell and a stripy uniform (ok, that’s just how I imagine her). As big a shock as it is to leave behind bohemian Brighton and its culinary vegetarian paradise.