in time for the holidays

Sometimes eating vegan doesn’t need to have a vegan label. What I mean is, sometimes a yummy dish just happens to be vegan at the same time. I’ve received plenty of advice and recipes and such from friends and readers, for which I wholeheartedly thank each and every one of you. Dinner the other night was courtesy of Ina Garten by way of my friend with bitchy resting face. Butternut squash salad with warm cider vinaigrette.

I just read that. I should clarify: Most of my friends have bitchy resting face. I mentioned the lovely lady who sent me this recipe here in this post that I am linking here.

I totally channeled Perd Hapley with that last sentence.

This was not called out as a vegan recipe; it was just a recipe without animal products, except for some parmesan cheese grated over the final meal, which any vegan can simply skip. Wait. Let me think. Were any animals harmed or exploited to make this recipe… I don’t think so? But, I didn’t know honey isn’t vegan until I started researching why vegan recipes call for agave and not honey. So, who knows.

That fact, that honey isn’t vegan, sets Groom into a fit of nearly violent anger. And, Groom is so nonviolent, he makes Gandhi seem like Genghis Khan. I use honey since my vegan/pesca tendencies aren’t philosophical.

the water pump culprit

The recipe arrived via text. I was planning to make some spring rolls for supper, with some boiled shrimp for Groom since he shouldn’t have to survive on my nuts and berries. (Instead I have to survive on his. Hey oh!) But GF with the BRF sent me this and I was immediately sold. Done and done.

Let me tell you, this is the simplest recipe ever. I was able to cook it with a broken water pump, which tells you how simple it really was. Yes, our water pump broke this past weekend and we were without water for two days. It was like camping without the weird tree root that shows up under your back at 2 in the morning. And, to answer your question, no, I had not showered since I hiked Morse Mountain.

Hiked. It always makes me laugh to say that in regard to Morse Mountain.

Back to the recipe–man, I get so distracted so easily. My biggest problem in the work place is that I tend to distract people from their work. It’s a real problem, which is why I work from home.

While I’m up and distracted, I’m going to say it, what I don’t like about this new routine is the look I get from people when I pass on something I can’t really eat. It’s judgie. People actually say, “A little chicken isn’t going to kill you.” I know that. I allow things to sneak through all the time, which is why, right now, at this moment, I’m going to pass on the steak or chicken or shrimp (yes, I pass on the shrimp) you’re offering me. Then, my meal falls under serious scrutiny. God forbid I eat something that has a flake of cheese on it or a dab of meat juice.

Meat juice? I don’t know where that came from.

“So, you’re not really vegan then,” I hear.

No, I’m not. But, I’m going to pass on that steak for now. Thank you. It’s like I have suddenly found religion and everyone else is atheist. I promise you, I will not try to bring you to Jesus and I won’t quote scripture at the dinner table.

One trick is to say nothing about my food habits, which is so hard to do because I am an extrovert through and through (and I used to work with an introvert to her dismay). Another trick is to never, ever, ever, use the word “vegan” or the highly objectionable and annoying term “pescatarian.”

Wow. I distracted myself again.

With Thanksgiving around the corner, I present to you a pictorial remembrance of the not vegan but it just happens to be vegan butternut squash:

I have never peeled and cut a squash before
toss the cranberries on for the final five minutes
Grocery store-bought shallot (left) vs organic farm shallot (right)
simmer simmer s
immer is it done yet simmer some more

then whisk whisk the dressing

moosh it all together in a salad bowl

add cheese for your loved one who can eat what he wants

cut up a lentil cake for some protein–god this plate looks so sad
Sarah Devlin

About Sarah Devlin

Sarah Devlin has been writing about the recreational industry since the late ’90s but ironically can’t run, swim, or bike a mile.