I'm what most restaurants would call a difficult customer. In fact, after I leave, I'm probably the one who my server will whisper about to the other waitstaff.
I knew this would be the case after my friends and I had finished eating lunch at an Applebee's back in my hometown over winter break. Scouring my seven meat-filled salad options, I hope for something more than iceberg lettuce. If a restaurant offers other options like sprouts or seeds, I consider it a gourmet meal.
Not finding a simple garden salad, I order an apple walnut chicken salad. I worry about giving the waitress writers' cramp when I tell her I'd like it without chicken, bleu cheese or candied walnuts. I also ask if the chef would be able to throw on any fresh vegetables lying around. I'd be satisfied with any vegetable accompanying my $7.99 bowl of lettuce. I thank her and mention that I need the salad to be dairy-free. I've found that many restaurants love to sprinkle cheese or croutons onto salads without listing it in the menu. Croutons I can deal with, but I can't ""just pick off"" hundreds of cheese shreds, as servers often tell me to do.
When the waitress brings my salad out, seemingly dairy-free but covered in a creamy dressing, I ask her if this really is a vinaigrette dressing, as the menu indicated. However, the waitress returns five minutes later from the kitchen to inform me that this particular dressing does contain some dairy. When I tell her again that I don't eat dairy, an annoyed look forms on her face. She crosses her arms across her chest and replies, ""well there's really not that much dairy in it.""
Before I can respond, she walks away. I stare down in disbelief at my inedible plate of iceberg lettuce smothered in a creamy ""vinaigrette"" dressing.
The reason eating out requires this level of complexity is because I'm a vegan. These three little words, uttered back in my hometown of West De Pere, Wisconsin generally will draw a crowd of confused stares and blank faces. And I know the stream of questions that will follow for the next 20 minutes.
""A vegan, what is that like a vegetarian? So, you can still eat chicken, right?"" they'd curiously ask. ""What about fish?""
I start off with the same explanation I've been giving for six years of my life, that vegans don't consume any food product that comes from an animal (yes, this includes dairy and eggs, and even products with animal-derived ingredients like gelatin and mono and diglycerides).
Now growing up around Green Bay, where brats, beer, and cheese are practically dietary staples, not consuming two of the three was comparable to living in Italy and hating pasta and olive oil.
So I try to explain the ethical, environmental and health reasons behind choosing this lifestyle, but oftentimes, before intellectual consideration is even given to my reasoning, I'm interrupted by the question ""Just what do you eat? Lettuce? How do you get any nutrients?""
I guess I should be thankful that people who survive on mac and cheese, Ramen noodles and soda care enough about me to be checking up on my health.
Don't get me wrong, I love answering questions people have about a vegan diet, but having returned home for winter break after experiencing life in the city of Madison, I could not wait to come back.
In Madison I can walk into Willy St. Co-op or Whole Foods and see customers suspended in the aisles pondering over ingredient lists, refilling containers in the bulk food aisles, and stocking up at a deli where food choices are labeled as vegan.
In Madison I can order an Arabic salad from the Sunroom CafAc from a worker who knows that it is vegan without having to dig out ingredient lists from boxes in the kitchen to see if the dressings contain animal-derived ingredients.
Restaurants on State Street are used to our liberal concerns about fair trade, environmental impacts, energy consumption and animal rights. They are capable of answering questions about where their food came from, the ingredients of products, and employer labor issues. Most coffee shops offer some, if not all, organic and free trade coffee options. Chipotle even boasts ""Food with Integrity,"" referring to their use of meat from animals not fed antibiotics or hormones.
So the next time I walk by a demonstration on Bascom Hill or a rally at Library Mall, regardless of whether I agree with the campaign beliefs, I'm going to be thankful that I live in a city where people care and are passionate about issues that affect the world around us.
