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Vegan HolidaysWho's the Turkey Now?
Let's all say it together----turkey... mashed potatoes... green bean casserole... chicken stuffing... giblet gravy. Turkey... mashed potatoes... green bean casserole... chicken stuffing... giblet gravy. If you're a meat eater, this is very likely what your Thanksgiving spread will look like. If you're not omnivorous and are, let's say, vegan, the question comes out something like this...
If you don't eat turkey or anything with cream sauces or butter, what DO you eat at the holidays? Hmmm. What DO you eat? This is the challenge. It's not so difficult to host a holiday meal. You know what you eat. You know how to prepare it. You've learned how to ask for help with meals without having to spell out the obvious. You can make it for Thanksgiving? Great! I need some cut up veggies with hummus or a beautiful fruit salad to round out the meal. Which would you prefer to bring? But when mom and pop or, worse, the in-laws offer up grub, this can lead to all manner of rapid breathing, non-functioning salivary glands, and not-so-lady-like perspiration. Article continues below In your mind you begin to pick out the foods that you will be able to eat. Cranberry sauce, for sure. Maybe there will be a veggie tray. But dip? Dip is out. It will definitely be Ranch Dressing. I once grabbed my sister-in-law before she threw the butter and milk in the mashed potatoes. I asked if I might keep out a small serving for myself. With a little olive oil and a bit of garlic, they were just this side of can't get any better than this. I am by nature a problem solver. I search out puzzles. My mother says I've never met a challenge I didn't like. So, when I redressed myself as a vegan this became my mountain to scale: how to enjoy a meal in the company of others. The advice to eat something before I go doesn't sit quite well with me. I like food. I like to try new dishes. I like to taste recipes created in kitchens that are foreign to me. Focusing on the conversation and eating once I return home doesn't work either. Not only do I like food, but I need it. I need it at regular intervals and I need it to be substantial. A few carrots, or a plate full, won't do. A scoop of pretzels also do not count as a meal. I must have food or I turn into one of the beasts in Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are." My eyes grow very large and I roar my terrible roar and gnash my terrible teeth and show my terrible claws. So, the solution to my puzzle? Some would say to offer to bring a dish. That's great in certain circumstances. Often, however, the host assures that she has everything covered. Please, no, just bring yourself and relax. Enjoy the fact that you don't have to cook. Enjoy the fact that I'm not the one cooking? Depends. A well-heeled article once advised me to very politely call up the host ahead of time and explain that my family and I are vegetarian. That my children do not eat meat and I avoid animal products altogether, including milk, eggs, and honey. Your chef for the evening would want to know, the author assured me. This is the courteous thing to do. It is just and right and fair. Courteous or not, I just can't bring myself to impose my dietary restrictions on other household cooks. Inform, educate, answer questions until the factory farmed cows come home, sure. But insist that she adjust her menu to fit my personal preferences? No. For one, holiday cooking usually involves favorite dishes made only at certain times of the year. This friend, sister, neighbor, co-worker, distant relative of mine takes some inherent pleasure in recreating a culinary piece of family art. Rob my host of this simple stress reduction technique? I think not. Also, I am one of many. Sure, I want to eat well and enjoy great company, but there are others at the table. So what to do? In my quest for an answer to this conundrum, I have come up with what might seem like a cop out on the surface. Underneath, I think it a clever and beautifully schemed plan. Thank you, thank you very much. In easing the pain of dining in the homes of others, I employ a bit of each of the aforementioned tactics. I have a small snack before I go and grab a handful of nuts when I return home if I'm still hungry. I chat up the host ahead of time. Everybody that comes within ten feet of me has a general clue that I'm vegan. If they get any closer, they have the advantage of learning exactly what that means. And if they make the mistake of standing in one spot without moving for more than three seconds, they leave with more information than the head of any chapter of vegetarian gurus could share in a full out class on nutrition. And, and this is by no means the least of these, and I always bring a dish, requested or not. No symptoms. Just a pre-phobia type condition. But, no, the hives, wheezing, and incessant diarrhea prove clear signs that this woman is indeed allergic to meat. She is also lactose intolerant. Hmmm. I'm picturing her like me except for the eggs. I never knew vegan food could be tasty until I went to a vegan wedding. This fell out of her mouth as she stood in front of me. I might have been confused and somewhat surprised had I not just read a review of Jennifer McCann's Vegan Lunch Box in my local paper. The author applauded McCann for her creativity and her cleverness at incorporating ingredients most kids won't touch without a sippy cup full of apple juice to chase them down. The writer of this piece of work then informed the readers that, yes, all the recipes in the book are indeed vegan. That need not, he warned, deter you from purchasing Vegan Lunch Box as the dishes still have taste appeal. Still. Well! Good thing McCann has it together enough to disguise her vegan crap as inventive, fun, and, hey, even tasty. My grandmother used to say that the quickest way to a man's heart is through his gut. She also said a lot of other things that aren't appropriate for this page so we will focus on this one for right now. The age old wisdom has some merit, especially when dealing with omnivores. The quickest way to win over a skeptic is to convince through the rumblings of a hungry belly. A steaming hot apple crisp straight from the oven. Fresh orchard apples smothered in cinnamon and brown sugar and raisins and walnuts. Soy margarine makes all that top stuff crispy crunchy. Sometimes you can peel that part off and eat it straight. My homemade Fudgy Banana Muffins loaded with cocoa and chocolate chips and very macho looking bananas. They are so packed with chocolate I drift into my happy place the minute they even come close to my lips. Holiday granola—as a special cereal or once a year treat. The sticky sweetness from pure maple syrup and a bit of vanilla. I throw in a handful of goodies—almonds and pecans and coconut and some secrets I cannot tell. You would like it. None of these foods are pasty or plastic or nasty. None are putrid. Without saying a word I have converted even the toughest of omnivorous skeptics. Yes, this is the fun part. Holiday Granola
Stir together oats, coconut, seeds, nuts, and cinnamon in large bowl. Mix in combined oil, syrup, and vanilla. Microwave about 6 minutes. Stir occasionally. Add dried fruit. Microwave 1-2 minutes. Press into baking dish coated with nonstick spray. Cool. Spoon into jar to give as gift. Fudgy Banana Muffins
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