Away From Home

So I gave this vegan thing a true test this past weekend, which involved two challenges: travel, and a bar mitzvah.  But I planned smartly.  Before leaving Brooklyn on Friday, and after that yea good feeling I walked out of my doctor’s office with, I stopped at my neighborhood Foodtown.  They did a rather amazing thing last year in my portly neighborhood of Bay Ridge.  Amid a major remodel, they opened a natural food market on the previously unused second floor.  And I have to say that the shelves are stocked with lots of food items I actually want to buy.  I have even bought my dish soap and laundry detergent there.  I'm kind of a freak about my cleansing products.

I have no idea who this man is, but he's in my Foodown's natural market.

I grabbed a bunch of things I knew would travel well: pita chips, almond butter, vegan dumplings, trail mix.  Then I took the R to the C to the Path to Jersey Transit to Princeton.  I started nibbling on the trail mix waiting for a train on the Newark platform since I hadn't eaten yet.  I know, I know, totally not healthy, but I have been going out of my way to keep myself nourished.  I don't do this very often.

Of course these are my pita chips of choice.

I freakin' love these guys.

I got to the hotel, where I had time enough to change and meet the rest of the out-of-towners.  We were all being taken out by the bar mitzvah family.  I ate one of my 22 bars to prepare for whatever meal was just ahead.  Of course our destination was a seafood restaurant, at which most of the people sitting around my table dined on various forms of shellfish.  Ironic, I know.  Even the bar mitzvah boy had the linguini with clam sauce.  No judgements here at all, especially when you consider the fact that we were slaves unto Pharaoh and now we are free.  I'm sure that Moses himself wouldn't mind if the taste of freedom arrived to his table every now and then in the form of a shrimp cocktail.  I was able to order edemame as an appetizer, followed by an order of sweet potato fries which I dumped onto my house salad.  I drizzled my plate with oil and vinegar and it all tasted really good.

You know, I have to say that I missed having my little piece of cake after Friday night services.  I really did.  That is a tradition I have carried on basically since birth.  But then again, who can really eat just one little piece of cake.  I know that one quickly turns into five, and then what the hell.  Let me wash it down with a cup of Coca High Fructose Corn Sweetener Cola.  Well, since the idea is for shabbos to leave sweetness on your lips, I chose to go with the fresh cut fruit as well.  Remaining strictly vegan is teaching me a lot.  Back at the hotel room, I vibes a few Modern Family episodes, snacking in bed on pita chips and almond butter.

For the life of me, I can't remember what I ate in the hotel room for breakfast.  Perhaps it was nothing again.  Now while I had a shot of kiddush wine after service, I skipped the little piece of challah.  Again, this is tradition, and the sabbath bread of my people, and very delicious.  No, I don't believe having one little piece for ritual sake would make me any less of a vegan.  But I question my ability to have one little piece, especially when my goal here is to prove that I can make myself healthier by ingesting no animal products.  I promised myself that I would investigate the water challah I used to buy in Midwood, and see if it is truly vegan.

Water Challah

I was granted an opportunity to ride the bus from the synagogue to the reception, along with the bar mitzvah boy, his college freshman sister, and their friends.  I used the time wisely, ingesting my vegan dumplings to prepare myself for the meal challenges ahead.

During the cocktail hour some hors d'oeuvres passed me by.  They looked good but didn't tempt me.  I went for the plain, cut up veggies.  At one point a server offered me some mini egg rolls.  I politely declined.  He quickly mentioned "they're vegetarian."  I returned to him that I was a vegan.  He said that he was too, and he eats them.  Look, I'm not in this to judge anyone.  This experiment is about me.  So I was just going to share with my momentary comrade-of-eats that I was more concerned with the wrapper than the interior.  But before I could, he shared a self defeating "I know, I know.  But look at where I work."

THE MEAL . . . I skipped the bread basket since I couldn't read the ingredients.  I was given the obligatory chicken, fish, or beef choices by my Table Server.  I told her that I was a pain in the ass vegan, who didn't eat meat, fish or dairy.  She told me that the vegetarian option was pasta primavera.  So I asked if the pasta was made with eggs or if there was any butter in the sauce.  I have been researching my ingredients.  Not all pastas are made using eggs, but some are.  She said that she would have to check.  I told her that if the primavera was a no go, then to just bring me a plate of cooked vegetables, and perhaps some potatoes if she could find some.  I told her not to worry, and to surprise me with whatever ends up in front of me.

I was later assured by Table Server that the pasta dish contained no dairy.  She placed it in front of me (ahem) with a small cup of grated cheese.  She told me that there was gluten free bread if I wanted.  I tad her that I enjoy wheat but said "no thank you" to her kind gesture.

After the meal, dessert plates were pass around: a scoop of ice cream and a piece of bar mitzvah cake.  It looked really good, too good.  I got a 22 bar from my bag and enjoyed it very much, even though Table Server offered me gluten free cookies.  I briefly gave her my rundown on voluntarily becoming a vegan, wheat intolerance, and fad diets.  We shared a few laughs.  I know how difficult her job can get.

We both totally rocked on.