I had another one of those “oh fuck I do live in California” moments this week when I realized that 72 percent of my Thanksgiving guests were vegetarian or vegan. It really called into question if I had to buy a turkey or if I could get away with making turkey burgers.
I haven’t made the full switch yet, and I still enjoy fish, but I knew I’d have to cook and carve the turkey and get the carcass out of the house before the V’s arrived so as not to offend. They aren’t the wishbone snapping types. Dinner went off with out a problem, but the fun came afterwards.
The conversation reverted to vegetarian food: how to make a good tofu scramble, wheat-free breads, tempeh, and my soy chorizo. I watched my meat-eating Texan friend as we yammered on and I could tell he was ready to blow. This I knew because he arrived first and said something to the effect of, “there’s no reason to be a vegetarian except for religious purposes.” I mentioned cruelty in the food industry. He is in the “meat is tasty” camp. Needless to say, he was one of the first to finish up and leave, but not before he confirmed that vegan pumpkin pie was not as good without butter.
We enjoyed our vegetables and odd conversations without the presence of our own family members. That’s probably why we had a good time, just like the original settlers did minus the tofurky roast.