我的素食之道

No meat？ No fish？ No cheese？ No ice cream？ What if you had chickens， would you eat the eggs？ What if you were stranded on a desert island and all there was to eat was rabbits？

And so it goes， at many meals with friends， families or co-workers. These questions always come up， just as the arm connected to the inquiring mind is lifting a 1）chicken nugget to the mouth. Not the best time for an ethical discussion on the matter. I don’t intend to make anyone feel defensive or guilty or upset. I am simply living my life my way.

I first tried a change in my eating patterns in 2007， having been a vegetarian for a few years. Full of big ideas and goals， I switched to a diet free of animal products. Like many people making the switch for the first time， I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

My mom was the recipient of 2）incessant phone calls： “What’s in shortening？” I’d ask. “Can you make cake without eggs？” I had no idea what I was looking for on food labels. What’s 3）whey powder？ What’s a“modified milk ingredient”？ What’s 4）casein？

Craving and 5）exasperation crept in. It only took a month before I was in line at the grocery store with cheese， sour cream and those eerily neon-coloured cupcakes in my basket， the grand notion of living entirely free of animal products seemingly forgotten. I chowed down happily， ignoring the tiny voice that said “Is this right for me？”

6）Fluorescent frosting covering my fingers， I told myself that it was too hard， not worth it， and it didn’t make a difference anyway.

It wasn’t until a year later that I made the firm decision about what food habits were right for me. It was a creamy 7）cashew sauce that tipped the scales， and convinced me that vegan food could be delicious.

As for the term “vegan，” I sometimes avoid the term in order to escape the stereotypes. I’m not an urban hipster， I don’t have 8）dreadlocks and I don’t stand outside fur shops with a can of spray paint at the ready.

In actuality， I grew up on a small farm in rural Alberta. I dug in the garden， rode the tractor through the hayfield and milked the goats. I also butchered chickens. I made presentations about farm life to “city kids” on field trips， showing my Grade 4 peers where milk came from， how animals were dehorned and what the difference was between a sheep and a goat.

Despite my rural roots， however， I often had a nagging feeling about the impacts of my eating habits. Once I was no longer living on the farm， I was increasingly distanced from “real” food. Food seemed to grow on a shelf， not in the ground or in the barn.

I could see why those city kids had been confused as to how milk was different from pop. Food wasn’t from the land any more. It was a product—decorated， packaged and marketed 9）beyond recognition—masking its often dubious roots in industrial factories.

It became increasingly obvious that by not making a decision， I was， in fact， implicitly making a decision.

My purchases， it felt to me， were akin to my vote， essentially saying， “Yep！ I think this is okay！” And that wasn’t the truth. I didn’t think it was okay.

But let’s be honest. Veganism is not the answer to all the world’s problems. And it does not imply ethical superiority over other thoughtful diets.

Nor is a vegan diet necessarily more healthful. It’s still possible to be a vegan and eat a diet of potato chips and cotton candy—and substituting ground flax and water for eggs makes it possible to prepare all of my family’s favourite recipes for cakes， cookies， and waffles—not necessarily the leanest diet available.

I do believe that my vegan diet， when conscious and well-planned， is more healthful and more sustainable than the way I used to eat. Whether talking about ecological footprints， moral consistency， livestock well-being， water use， or vitamin intake， I see definite improvements.

But when my 10）inquisitive dinner companions pose questions， my only answer is that we can each benefit from thinking about our food choices. Willful ignorance does not excuse moral responsibility. For most of us， eating is our main act of consumption.

Just the other day， my 12-year-old cousin was confused as to why I was wearing socks made from wool from my mom’s sheep. “I thought you didn’t like things that come from animals？” she asked， flummoxed. I had made a tradeoff in my own mind： They are treated like pets， and relieved to be rid of their warm coats every summer. I eventually replied， “Everyone has to make their own decisions about what they think is right.”

We don’t necessarily need to debate the extremes in lifestyle decisions. At the end of the day， each of us can make improvements on the margin， by being a bit more virtuous， more kind， or more aware of the impacts of our choices.

For me， thoughtful veganism is the best approach to food. Not only does it help me to actively engage in the connection between food and the land on which it’s grown， but it reminds me to be curious and ask questions about all my choices， food and otherwise. It’s been an excellent exercise in training myself to think about the seemingly distant impacts of my actions.

And， as for the desert island ... I hear palm fruit is delicious.

不吃肉？不吃魚？不吃奶酪？不吃冰激凌？要是你養雞，那你吃雞蛋嗎？要是你被困荒島，所有能吃的只有兔子，你怎么辦？

與朋友、親人或者同事共餐的時候，往往如是，總是冒出這些問題，其時，好奇發問的他/她正把一塊炸雞送到嘴里。這可不是就此來一場倫理討論的最佳時機。我不想讓任何人覺得需要辯解，或者有負罪感，或是惶惑不安。我只不過是遵循自己的方式過活而已。

從2007年開始我嘗試在自己的飲食模式上作出改變，如今我堅持素食已好幾年。出于一堆的“高見”和目標，我將自己的飲食調整到不吃動物產品。就像許多人剛開始轉變飲食習慣那樣，我完全不知道自己在干什么。

我不停地給媽媽打電話：“有什么缺的？”我會問。“沒有雞蛋，能做蛋糕嗎？”我不清楚自己要留意食物標簽里的什么成分。乳清粉是什么？“改良牛奶成分”是什么？干酪素是什么？

饞癮與惱怒漸漸襲來。只過了一個月，我就挽著個購物籃——里面裝著奶酪、酸奶油，還有那些出奇鮮艷的霓虹色紙杯蛋糕——在雜貨店里排隊了，那個“完全不吃動物產品”的偉大生活概念似乎已經拋諸腦后。我高高興興地大快朵頤，對那個微弱的聲音聽而不聞：“對我來說，這是對的嗎？”

熒光糖霜蓋住我的手指，我跟自己說，這太難了，不值得，不管怎么說，這不要緊的。

直至一年后，我才下定決心，確定適合自己的飲食習慣。那時一種粘稠的腰果醬起了關鍵性作用，讓我信服原來素食也可以是美味可口的。……