Hi,
Fennel Files has a new post about feeling dark blue. Don't forget that I've moved my blog. So if you want to continue receiving posts, change your subscription at the new site. Visit fennelfiles.com to subscribe. I look forward to seeing you there!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Fennel Files is moving!
Hi followers of Fennel Files!
After a bit of a hiatus, I have decided to revitalize my writing and focus more on my blog posts. With that comes a much needed redesign of my blog and a new domain (http://fennelfiles.com). There you will find a new post about baking and my family's tepid response to sweets. For those of you who received my posts via email, you can continue to do so by clicking the "sign me up!" button under "Subscribe to Fennel Files."
My goal is to write a post a week. HOLD ME TO IT PLEASE! And don't forget to post your comments on the site. Half the fun of a blog is the discussion that follows afterward.
See you at the new site!
Caren
After a bit of a hiatus, I have decided to revitalize my writing and focus more on my blog posts. With that comes a much needed redesign of my blog and a new domain (http://fennelfiles.com). There you will find a new post about baking and my family's tepid response to sweets. For those of you who received my posts via email, you can continue to do so by clicking the "sign me up!" button under "Subscribe to Fennel Files."
My goal is to write a post a week. HOLD ME TO IT PLEASE! And don't forget to post your comments on the site. Half the fun of a blog is the discussion that follows afterward.
See you at the new site!
Caren
Thursday, July 29, 2010
My demanding taste buds
Food cravings have taken control of my brain. Vegan cinnamon rolls, vegan fried chicken with gravy, fried okra and mashed potatoes, veggie chicken taquitos. A random combination of flavors, I know. But ever since I discovered some new vegan restaurants, my taste buds have consumed my mind with flavor desires, and now I have food needs that won’t.go.away.
I love Davis. I could easily clog your ears with my endless list about what makes Davis great--the parks, engaged community, Farmer’s Market, trees, Delta breeze, proximity to the Bay Area and mountains, the way the hot air balloons drift across the farmlands early in the morning. I’ll stop there, because my taste buds are perturbed that I am not talking about their food cravings. They want instant gratification food, and unfortunately, I can’t always get that in Davis. If the buds want green curry or spinach and fried tofu smothered in a panang sauce, then Davis (with seven Thai restaurants to choose from and an eighth on the way) is my place. Our friendly neighbor Sacramento has a few standout vegan restaurants, including a great little vegan food cart in downtown called the Happy Go Lucky Veggie Cuisine parked on the corner of I & 8th, and my favorite Vietnamese place, Andy Nguyen’s. I do wish the options in Sac were more prolific--enough at least to tame my demanding taste buds and the beast that is my stomach. Sometimes, for self-preservation’s sake, I have to head west.
Which leads me to ask the question, when did the vegans begin the revolution to take over Bay Area dining? I know they were lurking about back in the early 2000s with a menu item here and a restaurant tucked away there. But in the last five years, the five years since we’ve moved, there has been some kind of creative vegan food explosion. VegNews magazine just reported in their July/August 2010 10th Anniversary edition that there are 15! vegan restaurants in San Francisco alone, which I don’t think even counts the fabulous recent additions in the East Bay. Thankful I am, but crazy jealous as well. Why can’t I have such a plethora of options a mere one hour east?
A trip to the Bay Area has now become a strategic event involving gastrointestinal timing and deliberate restaurant planning. The food negotiations with my hubby begin about 24 hours before we leave for the in-law’s house and commence somewhere in the middle of the Caldecott tunnel. He wants Ethiopian, always. I want tempura sushi from Cha-Ya, Indian curry pizza from Zante’s, creamy brussels sprout gratin from Gracias Madre, and a sundae from Maggie Mudd. Do we stay in the East Bay, or do we cross the bridge into the city? There are too many meals to consume and not enough time for digestion, not to mention that I have to forgo eating at my favorite places listed above in order to try out the new places. How many calories do we get to eat in a day? Not enough to handle my Bay Area eating marathons. If you vegan chefs could just spill over into Davis, a cool college town with good eaters and a great farmer's market, my taste buds and I would be so happy.
I still have a week to go before I get to drive to the Bay to finally try Cinnaholic’s cinnamon rolls and visit Souley Vegan for vegan fried chicken (*Sigh.* Two months later, and I still haven’t dealt with that craving.) Until then, the taste buds are just going to have to be satisfied with homemade chocolate cupcakes.
I love Davis. I could easily clog your ears with my endless list about what makes Davis great--the parks, engaged community, Farmer’s Market, trees, Delta breeze, proximity to the Bay Area and mountains, the way the hot air balloons drift across the farmlands early in the morning. I’ll stop there, because my taste buds are perturbed that I am not talking about their food cravings. They want instant gratification food, and unfortunately, I can’t always get that in Davis. If the buds want green curry or spinach and fried tofu smothered in a panang sauce, then Davis (with seven Thai restaurants to choose from and an eighth on the way) is my place. Our friendly neighbor Sacramento has a few standout vegan restaurants, including a great little vegan food cart in downtown called the Happy Go Lucky Veggie Cuisine parked on the corner of I & 8th, and my favorite Vietnamese place, Andy Nguyen’s. I do wish the options in Sac were more prolific--enough at least to tame my demanding taste buds and the beast that is my stomach. Sometimes, for self-preservation’s sake, I have to head west.
Which leads me to ask the question, when did the vegans begin the revolution to take over Bay Area dining? I know they were lurking about back in the early 2000s with a menu item here and a restaurant tucked away there. But in the last five years, the five years since we’ve moved, there has been some kind of creative vegan food explosion. VegNews magazine just reported in their July/August 2010 10th Anniversary edition that there are 15! vegan restaurants in San Francisco alone, which I don’t think even counts the fabulous recent additions in the East Bay. Thankful I am, but crazy jealous as well. Why can’t I have such a plethora of options a mere one hour east?
A trip to the Bay Area has now become a strategic event involving gastrointestinal timing and deliberate restaurant planning. The food negotiations with my hubby begin about 24 hours before we leave for the in-law’s house and commence somewhere in the middle of the Caldecott tunnel. He wants Ethiopian, always. I want tempura sushi from Cha-Ya, Indian curry pizza from Zante’s, creamy brussels sprout gratin from Gracias Madre, and a sundae from Maggie Mudd. Do we stay in the East Bay, or do we cross the bridge into the city? There are too many meals to consume and not enough time for digestion, not to mention that I have to forgo eating at my favorite places listed above in order to try out the new places. How many calories do we get to eat in a day? Not enough to handle my Bay Area eating marathons. If you vegan chefs could just spill over into Davis, a cool college town with good eaters and a great farmer's market, my taste buds and I would be so happy.
I still have a week to go before I get to drive to the Bay to finally try Cinnaholic’s cinnamon rolls and visit Souley Vegan for vegan fried chicken (*Sigh.* Two months later, and I still haven’t dealt with that craving.) Until then, the taste buds are just going to have to be satisfied with homemade chocolate cupcakes.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
A letter to my leftovers
Dear Leftovers,
We’ve had a rough relationship. You provide good eats on some days, but too often you smack me in the face with some nasty smell you’ve kept tucked under your lid. Unless I consume you within a day of your creation, I don’t trust you to behave well towards my nose or my stomach. You’ve wronged me so many times that it's not easy picking between you and one of those freezer-burned burritos from Trader Joe’s...although you have been winning by a small margin.
Unfortunately, you and I have been forced to become closer this past month ever since Scott and I started tracking our expenses. Like counting my calories on the LoseIt App makes me not want to eat, tracking our expense calories in a spread sheet takes all the fun out of spending. That means you and I need to learn to get along. Normally I can bury you in the dark space of the fridge behind a suspect batch of refried beans and a bagful of veggies and try to forget about you. But ever since I instituted a ban on impulsive lunches, I’ve had to turn to you for lunchtime support.
Then yesterday, you helped me produce this:
Fresh lettuce, carrots, cilantro, mint, and rice noodles leftover from our vegan spring rolls the other night tossed together with a peanut sauce dressing and some cut up squares of marinated Wildwood Tofu made a fabulous salad. 24 hours later, I sit here in my cube eating leftover homemade panang curry (tasty but a losing second compared to that salad) and I am still thinking about you. In fact, I want to elevate your salad concoction to main course status so I can eat you again for dinner and then dream about you as my lunch the next day.
So thank you for the memorable meal and bless you for not rotting the noodles. Keep up the good behavior and you may start spending more time in the brighter side of the fridge.
Sincerely,
Your Reluctant Eater
Peanut Sauce Salad Dressing
This recipe is an adaptation to the peanut sauce we make for spring rolls. In your blender or Vitamix, combine the following ingredients:
2 heaping spoonfuls of smooth peanut butter (not the sweetened kind)
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1 teaspoon of fresh grated ginger
1 medium garlic clove (remember it is blending up raw, so be careful about the quantity . . . unless you want to be tasting repeats the rest of the day)
1/4 cup tamari
A splash or two of mirin
2 tablespoons sesame oil
1/4 cup orange juice
Blend together and adjust for salty and tangy. It is really hard to mess up a peanut sauce so don’t worry too much about the measurements. Serve with your favorite leftover Asian-style salad fixin’s.
We’ve had a rough relationship. You provide good eats on some days, but too often you smack me in the face with some nasty smell you’ve kept tucked under your lid. Unless I consume you within a day of your creation, I don’t trust you to behave well towards my nose or my stomach. You’ve wronged me so many times that it's not easy picking between you and one of those freezer-burned burritos from Trader Joe’s...although you have been winning by a small margin.
Unfortunately, you and I have been forced to become closer this past month ever since Scott and I started tracking our expenses. Like counting my calories on the LoseIt App makes me not want to eat, tracking our expense calories in a spread sheet takes all the fun out of spending. That means you and I need to learn to get along. Normally I can bury you in the dark space of the fridge behind a suspect batch of refried beans and a bagful of veggies and try to forget about you. But ever since I instituted a ban on impulsive lunches, I’ve had to turn to you for lunchtime support.
Then yesterday, you helped me produce this:
Fresh lettuce, carrots, cilantro, mint, and rice noodles leftover from our vegan spring rolls the other night tossed together with a peanut sauce dressing and some cut up squares of marinated Wildwood Tofu made a fabulous salad. 24 hours later, I sit here in my cube eating leftover homemade panang curry (tasty but a losing second compared to that salad) and I am still thinking about you. In fact, I want to elevate your salad concoction to main course status so I can eat you again for dinner and then dream about you as my lunch the next day.
So thank you for the memorable meal and bless you for not rotting the noodles. Keep up the good behavior and you may start spending more time in the brighter side of the fridge.
Sincerely,
Your Reluctant Eater
Peanut Sauce Salad Dressing
This recipe is an adaptation to the peanut sauce we make for spring rolls. In your blender or Vitamix, combine the following ingredients:
2 heaping spoonfuls of smooth peanut butter (not the sweetened kind)
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1 teaspoon of fresh grated ginger
1 medium garlic clove (remember it is blending up raw, so be careful about the quantity . . . unless you want to be tasting repeats the rest of the day)
1/4 cup tamari
A splash or two of mirin
2 tablespoons sesame oil
1/4 cup orange juice
Blend together and adjust for salty and tangy. It is really hard to mess up a peanut sauce so don’t worry too much about the measurements. Serve with your favorite leftover Asian-style salad fixin’s.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Sandwich Cravings
I have a weakness for vegan sandwiches, especially hot ones, and much like a good vegan chocolate chip cookie, they tend to be hard to come by. Very few cafes make an effort to create an edible vegetarian sandwich, let alone a vegan one, and most assume that lettuce, tomato, pepperoncini, pickles, onions, avocado (if you are willing to throw down the extra $$) and sometimes if your lucky, hummus, is enough to satisfy one’s gnawing lunch needs. It’s not.
Two years ago, Scott and I spent a week in New York where we discovered the Candle Cafe, a chic vegan restaurant in the Upper East Side. It was there they served us a fried seitan chicken sandwich with a spicy chili aoli. The sandwich, smothered in sauce with bits of fried breading scattered around the plate and towering with red onion, lettuce and avocado, just begged to be eaten. We had always stayed away from seitan (pronounced like Satan), a chewy, nasty sounding, wheat-gluten substance with a propensity for causing unwanted bodily smells. But after that sandwich, seitan—all dressed up like a saucy hussy—seduced its way back into our lives.
Since our trip to the Big Apple, we’ve chanced upon other fabulously tasty hot sandwiches through our trusty advisor, Yelp. Armed with an iPhone and the Yelp App, you can strand us in a foreign meat-friendly state like Georgia, and most times, we vegans can hunt out a meal that doesn’t consist of salad with oil and vinegar, some kind of pasta with a marinara sauce, or portabella mushrooms.
In fact, Yelp helped us find the original “g” spicy po-boy at Green’s vegan oasis which happens to be hiding in a strip mall in Tempe, AZ—a location we would have NEVER found on our own. It also clued us in on the dirty sauce which belongs in bed with cranberry sauce on a hot vegan “turkey” sandwich at Ike’s Place in San Francisco—the only place I know of where you need to order your sandwich three hours in advance if you actually want to eat it at lunch time.
No thanks to Yelp, I’ve had a two month craving to try the BBQ/Southern Fried Tofu Burger at Souley Vegan in Oakland, CA. Until my schedule routes me back to the Bay Area, I will continue to pester Scott to make attempts at recreating the sandwiches already imprinted in my taste bud memories.
But back to standout veg sandwiches. I know I opened this piece by dissing the sub-standard “vegetarian” sandwich, but there is one place that not only gets those ingredients right, but makes a sandwich I want to continuing eating beyond comfortable fullness and into the realm of, “I’ve eaten so much I hate myself.” The Molinari Delicatessen, located in SF’s North Beach neighborhood, focuses primarily on Italian meats and cheeses but can dish up a vegan sandwich worthy of mentioning among the greats.
Molinari’s at lunchtime requires skills similar to wading through the Muni crowd on Kearny Street to secure a seat on the 30 Stockton, minus the dripping bags of fishy stuff and grandma bullies. It’s that crowded on a weekday. Once you’ve managed to make it through the door, take a number, pick your sandwich roll from the bread bin, and expect to wait at least 30 minutes for your turn. When your up, make sure the guy behind the counter slathers on their signature basil garlic olive oil spread. Ask nicely and they will add whatever veggies are marinating in the deli case—usually roasted peppers and onions, artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes, and mushrooms. They will garnish it with the usual lettuce, tomato, onion and pepperoncini which, on this sandwich, adds to the overall flavor. Take the greasy goodness to go with extra napkins and head over to Washington Square Park for a picnic. And while you wipe the olive oil off your face, think of me sitting in a gray office cube hours away from a decent vegan sandwich, and send up a little thought of thanks.
Right now, I don’t have a fabulous vegan sandwich recipe. After two years, Scott and I are still fussing and experimenting with flavors and textures. What I can say is, Tofurkey's smoked turkey lunch "meat", and served up with fresh basil, marinated sundried tomatoes, marinated artichokes, and heated up with vegan mozzarella and an aioli made from veganaise on a fresh ciabatta roll can go along way to curb a craving. Serve with a heaping side of my grandfather's potato salad. Or check out Yelp and find your own strip mall oasis.
Two years ago, Scott and I spent a week in New York where we discovered the Candle Cafe, a chic vegan restaurant in the Upper East Side. It was there they served us a fried seitan chicken sandwich with a spicy chili aoli. The sandwich, smothered in sauce with bits of fried breading scattered around the plate and towering with red onion, lettuce and avocado, just begged to be eaten. We had always stayed away from seitan (pronounced like Satan), a chewy, nasty sounding, wheat-gluten substance with a propensity for causing unwanted bodily smells. But after that sandwich, seitan—all dressed up like a saucy hussy—seduced its way back into our lives.
Since our trip to the Big Apple, we’ve chanced upon other fabulously tasty hot sandwiches through our trusty advisor, Yelp. Armed with an iPhone and the Yelp App, you can strand us in a foreign meat-friendly state like Georgia, and most times, we vegans can hunt out a meal that doesn’t consist of salad with oil and vinegar, some kind of pasta with a marinara sauce, or portabella mushrooms.
In fact, Yelp helped us find the original “g” spicy po-boy at Green’s vegan oasis which happens to be hiding in a strip mall in Tempe, AZ—a location we would have NEVER found on our own. It also clued us in on the dirty sauce which belongs in bed with cranberry sauce on a hot vegan “turkey” sandwich at Ike’s Place in San Francisco—the only place I know of where you need to order your sandwich three hours in advance if you actually want to eat it at lunch time.
No thanks to Yelp, I’ve had a two month craving to try the BBQ/Southern Fried Tofu Burger at Souley Vegan in Oakland, CA. Until my schedule routes me back to the Bay Area, I will continue to pester Scott to make attempts at recreating the sandwiches already imprinted in my taste bud memories.
But back to standout veg sandwiches. I know I opened this piece by dissing the sub-standard “vegetarian” sandwich, but there is one place that not only gets those ingredients right, but makes a sandwich I want to continuing eating beyond comfortable fullness and into the realm of, “I’ve eaten so much I hate myself.” The Molinari Delicatessen, located in SF’s North Beach neighborhood, focuses primarily on Italian meats and cheeses but can dish up a vegan sandwich worthy of mentioning among the greats.
Molinari’s at lunchtime requires skills similar to wading through the Muni crowd on Kearny Street to secure a seat on the 30 Stockton, minus the dripping bags of fishy stuff and grandma bullies. It’s that crowded on a weekday. Once you’ve managed to make it through the door, take a number, pick your sandwich roll from the bread bin, and expect to wait at least 30 minutes for your turn. When your up, make sure the guy behind the counter slathers on their signature basil garlic olive oil spread. Ask nicely and they will add whatever veggies are marinating in the deli case—usually roasted peppers and onions, artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes, and mushrooms. They will garnish it with the usual lettuce, tomato, onion and pepperoncini which, on this sandwich, adds to the overall flavor. Take the greasy goodness to go with extra napkins and head over to Washington Square Park for a picnic. And while you wipe the olive oil off your face, think of me sitting in a gray office cube hours away from a decent vegan sandwich, and send up a little thought of thanks.
Right now, I don’t have a fabulous vegan sandwich recipe. After two years, Scott and I are still fussing and experimenting with flavors and textures. What I can say is, Tofurkey's smoked turkey lunch "meat", and served up with fresh basil, marinated sundried tomatoes, marinated artichokes, and heated up with vegan mozzarella and an aioli made from veganaise on a fresh ciabatta roll can go along way to curb a craving. Serve with a heaping side of my grandfather's potato salad. Or check out Yelp and find your own strip mall oasis.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
A tragic lesson
I didn't know my cousin Rory nearly as well as I would have liked. It didn't help that we lived at least two hours away from each other at any given point during his life or that I was thirteen years his senior. I remember him being a spry and skinny little kid with a crazy dry wit at an obscenely young age. He motored around in that manic boy way, and if you got him to stop for a moment to talk, his raspy voice would spout a shocking amount of sarcasm wrapped around a dose of insight. Afterward, he would bolt away, all the while rubbing his hands together like a pint-sized mad scientist gearing up to do a touch of evil.
A lack of Generation Xers in my family forced me to learn how to interact with adults at a very early age. When the family baby boom finally began, I was already well on my way to becoming a self-absorbed teenager. As a result, I have a tendency to feel awkward around kids. My children are teaching me how to interact with other children, a skill I seemed to have missed learning while growing up. I feel a deep regret that I let my awkwardness get in the way of getting to know the Tomasello boys. A look through Rory's MySpace page tells me we would have gotten along well.
Rory died abruptly this week at 22 years of age when he was hit by an SUV while riding his bike. Somehow the death of my elders seems easier to handle. They lived a full life--death being the natural next step. But when someone young dies, well, a bit of my soul dies with them. Sequestered away in my heart, in that void that death created, is a vault that holds the stories of the people I've loved and lost. I will pull out Rory's story when I think about a bacon and white bread sandwich, hear the voice of a small child threatening to kick someone's ass, renew my license and check off the box that says "yes" to donating my organs, or when I reflect upon my missed opportunity to reconnect with my young cousins at the last family reunion.
Death is a harsh and demanding teacher. Grief pushes aside all of our filters normally clogged full of busy details and allows in a stark clarity. The lessons are immediate when death makes an example of someone we love. In the book, Journey to Ixtlan, The Lessons of Don Juan by Carlos Castaneda, the shaman teaches his pupil the importance of living life as an impeccable warrior. His lesson is, "In a world where death is the hunter there are no small or big decisions. There are only decisions that we make in the face of our inevitable death." So I get it, death. I hear you. My lessons are this: push past my awkward shyness and weakness for small talk and get to know people better; slow down and ask questions and make sure to listen to the answers; make decisions with the finality of death; reflect the best of myself; and always drive my car like a mindful Jedi knight.
Below is a recipe for a vegan BLT--a sandwich I am sure my late cousin would have shunned as a young boy for the lack of real bacon and written jokes about as an adult.
Vegan BLT
Ingredients
Sourdough bread
Lettuce
Tomato
Tempeh bacon (Yeah, it is a far cry from the real thing but the smokey flavor kind of makes up for the lack of bacon grease, kind of.)
Vegenaise (There are lots of other types of fake mayonaise out there. This is the only one that comes close to the real thing.)
Olive oil
Avocado (optional)
Directions
Heat a non-stick pan with enough olive oil to coat the pan. Separate and place the tempeh bacon strips in the pan and brown them. A couple of minutes on each side should suffice. While the tempeh is cooking, toast the sourdough and then slather with Vegenaise. Add a liberal helping of lettuce and tomato. If you need some extra triglycerides, Mash on half an avocado. Add the tempeh and cut that baby in half. Close your eyes and pretend you are eating the real thing.
A lack of Generation Xers in my family forced me to learn how to interact with adults at a very early age. When the family baby boom finally began, I was already well on my way to becoming a self-absorbed teenager. As a result, I have a tendency to feel awkward around kids. My children are teaching me how to interact with other children, a skill I seemed to have missed learning while growing up. I feel a deep regret that I let my awkwardness get in the way of getting to know the Tomasello boys. A look through Rory's MySpace page tells me we would have gotten along well.
Rory died abruptly this week at 22 years of age when he was hit by an SUV while riding his bike. Somehow the death of my elders seems easier to handle. They lived a full life--death being the natural next step. But when someone young dies, well, a bit of my soul dies with them. Sequestered away in my heart, in that void that death created, is a vault that holds the stories of the people I've loved and lost. I will pull out Rory's story when I think about a bacon and white bread sandwich, hear the voice of a small child threatening to kick someone's ass, renew my license and check off the box that says "yes" to donating my organs, or when I reflect upon my missed opportunity to reconnect with my young cousins at the last family reunion.
Death is a harsh and demanding teacher. Grief pushes aside all of our filters normally clogged full of busy details and allows in a stark clarity. The lessons are immediate when death makes an example of someone we love. In the book, Journey to Ixtlan, The Lessons of Don Juan by Carlos Castaneda, the shaman teaches his pupil the importance of living life as an impeccable warrior. His lesson is, "In a world where death is the hunter there are no small or big decisions. There are only decisions that we make in the face of our inevitable death." So I get it, death. I hear you. My lessons are this: push past my awkward shyness and weakness for small talk and get to know people better; slow down and ask questions and make sure to listen to the answers; make decisions with the finality of death; reflect the best of myself; and always drive my car like a mindful Jedi knight.
Below is a recipe for a vegan BLT--a sandwich I am sure my late cousin would have shunned as a young boy for the lack of real bacon and written jokes about as an adult.
Vegan BLT
Ingredients
Sourdough bread
Lettuce
Tomato
Tempeh bacon (Yeah, it is a far cry from the real thing but the smokey flavor kind of makes up for the lack of bacon grease, kind of.)
Vegenaise (There are lots of other types of fake mayonaise out there. This is the only one that comes close to the real thing.)
Olive oil
Avocado (optional)
Directions
Heat a non-stick pan with enough olive oil to coat the pan. Separate and place the tempeh bacon strips in the pan and brown them. A couple of minutes on each side should suffice. While the tempeh is cooking, toast the sourdough and then slather with Vegenaise. Add a liberal helping of lettuce and tomato. If you need some extra triglycerides, Mash on half an avocado. Add the tempeh and cut that baby in half. Close your eyes and pretend you are eating the real thing.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
No saints here
I broke my vegan vows and ate flaky, warm and fabulous cod while visiting Cape Cod. As I have always said, there is a time and place for breaking the rules, and well, when you are in Rome, eat the lasagna, when in Africa, eat what they give you, and when in Cape Cod, eat the fish and chips. When in Anaheim? Stick to being vegan.
Below is a link to a rerun of a post I wrote a couple of years back explaining why I choose to live a 95% vegan lifestyle. Yes, I am far from being a vegan saint, but I have never claimed to be.
http://fennelfiles.blogspot.com/2007/06/95-vegan.html
Below is a link to a rerun of a post I wrote a couple of years back explaining why I choose to live a 95% vegan lifestyle. Yes, I am far from being a vegan saint, but I have never claimed to be.
http://fennelfiles.blogspot.com/2007/06/95-vegan.html
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