The vegan roasts a turkey — and maintains his dignity — but his green bean casserole kicks poultry’s butt
I am accustomed to being unpopular around the holidays, that’s of course, until people taste my culinary creations. But that doesn’t happen until you are lounging at my oversized dinner table — which is themed and decorated — with a complementing soundscape playlist and ambiance enhanced by (anything but vanilla) scented candles affixing a schmorgasbord for the eyes and sniffer.
Yet it’s in the planning stages that conflicts arise, as some of my guests demand that anything without butter, cream, the most costly shellfish and bacon can’t possibly be worthy of any celebration’s tablescape. Bull, I say.
But they will try to argue with me, claiming that anything without these and other similar ingredients will taste like moldy, grainy, fluted cardboard. And that was the debate that drove me to near insanity prior to our Thanksgiving celebration. My food tastes just as lovely as theirs, if not better, and it doesn’t require the ritual sacrifice of anything that ever lived, so everyone, and everything, can live happily ever after.
Spa, manicures, pedicures, weekend getaways to Saint Tropez, pilates, genteel prosecco happy hours, acupuncture, aromatherapy. . . that’s how I imagined my turkey’s time on earth.
Vegans get a bad rep, particularly on occasiona that center around traditional foods where animal protein is the main event. Thanksgiving rhymes with turkey, Fourth of July with hot dogs and burgers, Easter and ham and Mardi Gras with crawfish boils and Jambalaya.