vegan baker

I know I ranted against Slow Food only a few months ago, but I am terribly excited about Slow Food Nation. This is the first big meeting of the Slow Food organization in the US.  I attended the first big meeting of Slow Food in the world, in Turin, Italy, in 2004. I didn’t go out of my way to be there, but rather accidentally was exposed to an amazing culture of food-obsession.

Yes, I think Slow Food has a lot of goals that are opposite to ours, and it bothers me to hear about bringing back an heirloom chicken in the face of all those overbred, beakless wonders whose lives are only pain, and Slow Food people are generally big jerks about veganism. Yes, yes. There are tons of reasons why I shouldn’t be excited about this.

But they have a youth convention intended to start a dialogue about the future of food culture in the US, and I think there should be a vegan there. A vegan who loves good food, old techniques, and new science. (Me!) If this is about starting a discussion, we weirdos should be at the table, and we should be searching the Ark of Taste booths for delicious heirloom foods which even we can eat. While there is clearly a natural tension between their old-worldiness and our new-fangled morals, I still want to be there to glean whatever I can and act like a good example of what I am… vegan and food-loving.

Sometimes I am a bit conflicted about whether or not I should tell my fellow dessert eaters that the cake I’ve baked is vegan. It gets less and less awesome as the years pass to still be forced to spend the entire length of a vegan meal/course talking about the very fact that it is vegan. The best way to eat a meal is to eat it together, so that it is clear that the food is vegan, but without a lot of discussion of that fact. I oppose shouting “VEGAN! HA!” at people you’ve bothered to feed.

If you spare your guests the vegan label as they’re digging in and then spring it on them later, they’re forced to admit that something they enjoyed was animal product-free, which is often quite a revelation. But, in addition to denying you your piece of cake, this method puts your omni friends on the defensive and makes you a shill. No one likes a shill*.

If you can let the taste of your food speak for itself, you can stop every single vegan meal from freaking out your guests. They acclimate, give you less crap, and hopefully take you a little more seriously**. You also make yourself look tolerant, fulfilled by your own decisions, and, of course, well-fed. You don’t want to be classed with door-to-door religious salesmen, those people who talk constantly about their crash diets, and workout freaks. To avoid this, just eat well and give your questioners more respect than they give you, by not insisting on talking about what they do and don’t eat. When else in life is “being a good example” defined as eating a lot of rich, sweet cakes and cookies?

So I tell the truth that the cake is vegan. I try to do it early, long before forks hit plates, so there’s a chance that an ongoing conversation will distract from the lack of eggs. Even when I know I’m feeding someone difficult, who openly laughs at what is important to me, I am still honest. But I have to admit that the whole “VEGAN! HA!” thing gets damn tempting once in a while.

*Yes, this is a Simpsons quote.
**No promises on this one.

I haven’t been writing because I have been eating.

(I understand that many people can do those things simultaneously.)

I landed in a quiet town with a tiny, well-designed storefront that sold some of the best pizza I’ve ever had, where they charged $5US for a pie. I skipped cross-country into a town so beautiful I didn’t believe it in the groggy early mornings, a town with a lapis lake and block after block of Macy’s-sized chocolate stores. I rode the lakes down to campfire charred soyburgers and bursting late summer tomatoes.

I’ve been filling up on Rhodesias and Arrufats, on cardboard cones overflowing with perfect fries, on the best ice cream in one of the best countries in the world for ice cream. And it has, of course, all been vegan.

Nonvegans are always shocked to learn that you’re going to be travelling, risking your supposedly silly diet on the circumstances of the road. But Argentina is more than the sum of its steaks. Every country has gems for you to uncover as you run around, missing the view as you read the ingredients. Vegan travel is sometimes difficult, but never impossible, and the last few weeks have been great proof of this, at least for me. There have been some truly stellar bites, and I never once felt like I was missing out. 

The challenge in getting educated as a vegan pastry chef is in replacing all the parts of traditional culinary school. Someone is going to have to teach me all about sugar sculptures and then give me a paper that says I’m a success.

The current project: I’ve been looking online for cake decorating classes that end in a certificate. They won’t be vegan, but I can grunt my way through a little bit of what repulses me (I did work in ice cream stores, of course.) The problem seems to be that the world of cake decoration is a backwards-facing racket.

All the design on these websites looks circa 1995. This bothers me because these are people I would pay to teach me to produce superior-looking food. Fondant, commercial marzipan, modeling chocolate… these things do not taste good, they look good. The people who teach them should care about aesthetics. They also charge more than I am comfortable with for classes I already know most of. I haven’t been professionally taught, so I’ll have to start at the beginning.

Wilton has a strangle-hold, but unless I head to some tiny town in Illinois, I’d be striving towards their expensive certificate in a Micheal’s. Now that would make me feel like a pro.