Like converted smokers, vegetarians can at times be a bit trying. They repeatedly remind you of the evils of red meat, and the effects of the white marbled fat running through it. Admittedly vegetarians come in various shades. Extremists avoid any product not grown, calling themselves vegans. Others are okay with eggs and cheese. A few are vegetarians in name only (choose your own definition) occasionally eating a bit of chicken or fish.
Now it’s one thing following these principles in your own kitchen, but traveling presents a whole new dimension. I know this to be a fact – I’m married to one. Let me tell you about a few of our escapades.
One of the more awkward periods occurred a few years back while traveling in the Baltic states. We were picked up by a robust female guide upon our arrival in Tallinn, Estonia. She was a throwback to the communist days where I am sure she was a weight lifter. She stood well over six feet and watched two hundred pound fly by years ago. She suggested we get acquainted over dinner at a local food shop, her choosing of course, and we followed along.
“I’ve ordered for us all,” she announced as a hearty beef goulash soup, with floating gobs of grease arrived. Barb stirred but didn’t eat. I got in a couple of spoonsful, smiled, and quit. She drained her bowl.
The entrée was a slab of beef, mashed potatoes, and a pile of canned peas – all swimming in a thick brown paste. I assumed it was gravy. Barb stirred, rearranged, but did not eat. Our guide devoured it all and as she was sopping up the remnants with a huge slice of bread said,
“You two sure don’t eat very much, do you?”
This feeding frenzy went on for ten days through Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania without a trace of greens or fresh veggies. My guess is there are very few vegetarians in the Baltics.
In fairness, we did load up at breakfast with eggs, cheese, and bread. A couple of nights we snuck out and ate a pizza or a bowl of pasta with no trace of meat.
Vietnam was a different story. Here every eating place listed a host of vegetarian dishes, and Barb was in her glory. But, alas, a hunk of soft tofu on each plate does get a little tiresome. After eating tofu for three meals a day for ten days, Barb tried to ignore it at a restaurant in Saigon. To make matters worse it jiggled in an unappetizing way. In an effort to help this poor misguided tourist, the waitress came over and politely cut the hunk into small pieces, demonstrating to Barb the proper way to enjoy this delicacy. Didn’t work.
There were other very embarrassing moments for me over the years because of this eating preference. Perhaps the most awkward occurred at a delightful breakfast buffet in Perth, Australia. The chef was preparing eggs on a large, universal griddle. Unfortunately he was also using this same griddle for bacon, sausage, and ham. Barb ordered her eggs, but asked if there was a virgin spot on the cook-top which was not, to her mind, contaminated with all that animal residue. The chef looked up and politely told her to go to $&*) – well, he didn’t really care about her tastes. The discussion that followed is unknown to me. I got out of there fast.
One of the major difficulties experienced by vegetarians has faded into obscurity – namely meals served on airplanes. For years the tiny hot trays placed before you on long flights had traces of meat. Enjoyed by most, but avoided by vegetarians. Alas, these endearments are now gone, and getting anything but pretzels and a soft drink costs a pretty penny.
I could go on and on with this subject, but I expect by now you’re gotten the idea. This column will be enjoyed by some, denounced by others, but I hope you all identified with it.
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