Veganism, It’s Not Just a Diet

Milk, they say disdainfully, is liquid meat. Honey means the exploitation and sometimes death of bees. Sugar is processed with charred cattle bones.

Leather? Dried flesh of a cow corpse, they say. Wool, down and silk? Ignominious results of the abuse of living creatures.

These are not vegetarians, who merely abstain from eating meat and poultry.

These are vegans, whose numbers range anywhere from 50,000 to 800,000, depending on which poll you choose to believe. They renounce fish, poultry and animal products in a society dominated by the stuff.

These people also scorn eggs and cheese. Some go further: They play baseball with poly-vinyl mitts. They feed vegetables to their dogs. Their belts, watch straps and shoes are crafted from plastic or canvas. Their briefcases and wallets are hemp or vinyl. They close their windows when their neighbors barbecue meat.

They live in constant vigilance whenever they interact with the carnivorous world. In restaurants they pelt servers with a barrage of questions: Does the pasta have egg? Is there milk in the bread? Can the cook make hash browns with water instead of butter?

They scour food labels to ensure they aren’t inadvertently consuming an obscure animal-related ingredient, such as casein, a milk protein. They worry about whether the glue they use has animal products. Some don’t want their photographs taken, since it involves film, which contains gelatin.

Vegans (pronounced VEE-guns) say their path is the healthiest for the planet and for the human body. They’ll look at you, a meat-user, and smile gently, as though implying that one day you’ll either come around or die young.

“To me, the ultimate goal is being vegan--it’s like being on the top rung,” said Jim Abrams, 38, a vegan and Northridge financial consultant whose dietary principles are offended by the sight of his vegetarian wife ordering a cheese pizza. He is raising his baby as vegan; his 8-year-old daughter and two dogs have become vegetarian.

Although vegans like Abrams remain on the fringe of American eating habits, they believe that their numbers will grow by evolution: More meat-eaters will turn vegetarian, and more vegetarians will embrace the stricter vegan regimen.

With this commitment, however, come new dilemmas and compromises unimaginable even to many vegetarians. Commonplace soap, for instance, is made from tallow (rendered animal fat). Should vegans carry soap so they’ll never have to use what’s provided in a public restroom? The tires of cars and bikes contain stearic acid (derived from animal fat). Should a true vegan ever use a vehicle?

“You can never be completely free of animal products--it’s such a part of our society,” said Melinda D’Arrigo, 23, a Sherman Oaks entertainment marketer and a vegan for six years.

The Road to Veganism

To her parents’ dismay, D’Arrigo, a native of Buffalo, N.Y., became a vegetarian at age 11 when she was grossed out by blood on her steak, even though her father dismissed it as juice. D’Arrigo’s mother indulged her, omitting meat, for instance, from a portion of the tomato sauce she cooked for the family. Her father figured it was just a phase.

But over the years, D’Arrigo’s diet became stricter. Today, she is the only vegan in her circle of friends. She’s learned to make dishes even meat-eaters like, such as dairy-less cheesecake.

She used to figure she would one day meet and marry a vegan. No longer. She dated one a few months ago. “He was the most annoying man I ever went out with.” Now she’s decided her future husband has to be vegetarian, though not necessarily vegan. “It’s such a big part of my lifestyle; it always comes down to it.”

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MELINDA D’ARRIGO’S DAIRY-FREE RICOTTA

1 lb. firm tofu

1/3 cup olive oil

1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg, 1/2 tsp. rock salt

Blend 3/4 cup above ingredients, then mash in remaining tofu with a spoon.

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In every era there are people who restrict their diet in the name of ethics, health or religion. As increasing numbers of Americans become concerned about health, more and more claim to be vegetarian or vegan.

Trouble is, we lie about our purity.

According to a 1992 national survey, 6.7% of Americans describe themselves as vegetarian compared to 4% in the 1960s. But when they are asked about their actual eating habits, most of those self-proclaimed vegetarians admit to occasionally eating meat. Only about 1% of Americans turn out to be pure vegetarians, according to a 1995 poll conducted by the Roper Organization and the Washington-based Vegetarian Research Group.

The research group believes that about a third of all vegetarians are vegans. But Dr. Victor Herbert, a hematologist and nutrition expert at the Bronx Veterans Affairs Medical Center and co-editor of the 1995 book “Total Nutrition,” estimates they make up only 2%.

Herbert says that while vegetarian diets present no known health hazards for most healthy adults, “a greater challenge awaits those who eliminate all animal products from their diets.”

For example, unless vegans are careful to pair certain plant foods, their diets may lack some vital amino acids that are found only in animal foods, such as milk or cheese, he said.

Obstacles From Past, Present

To go from vegetarian to vegan is to not only wrestle with nutrition, but with ridicule, temptation, doctrine and the contradictions of your past life.

Consider how April Raynell, 44, executive assistant to actor Peter Falk, handled a craving for milk shortly after she became a vegan 16 years ago.

In a supermarket near her Studio City home, she found herself drawn to the dairy section. Unable to stop, she took a quart of milk off the shelf and began guzzling it.

“I’ve never touched drugs in my life,” said Raynell, who was a vegetarian for four years, then became a vegan because she did not want to exploit animals. “But picture a person falling off the wagon.”

Tatiana Wrenfeather had been a member of a gourmet club before she took the plunge nine years ago. Her name was originally Gail Weiss, and she used to love cooking chicken cacciatore or duck a l’orange. She roasted pork loin and baked leg of lamb.

Today, she is a “vegan consultant.” For a price, she’ll come to your home and go through your cupboards, discarding meat-laden products and advising you how to safely restock your shelves. At 59, she glides through Santa Monica in Birkenstocks and long, flowing dresses or smock-like jackets and drawstring waist pants. Her wavy blond hair has no hint of gray. (She insists she doesn’t color it though she did have a “natural” perm.)

She cringes at her past like a remorseful thief, recoiling at the memory of how her gourmand club served rabbit. “I love bunnies,” she said. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Animals did not motivate Robin Armstrong to become a vegan, unless you include animal instinct. Armstrong, 31, of Lancaster, wanted to date a girl who wouldn’t consider him until he changed his diet to hers. He has since developed his own World Wide Web site that occasionally denounces fast food chains, calling them names like Murder King, Carl’s Tumor and McDeath.

Sabrina Nelson, a 38-year-old Northridge resident, changed her eating habits on the advice of her doctor and found that her autoimmune disorder disappeared. Like other vegans, she plumbs her conscience, drawing a line at how much--if any--animal products she can abide.

To her chagrin, her husband Jeff, a vegan for a year, purchased a mini-van with leather seats. (He had his reasons: Sabrina was about to give birth to the couple’s third child, and the car with fabric seats would have arrived several weeks later.)

April Raynell lives this contradiction: She won’t eat any meat, but cooks stews of ground chicken or turkey for her three cats, Cleopatra, Commander and Evita. “You can’t just overnight force an animal that’s a carnivore into becoming vegetarian,” she said.

And those Birkenstocks that Tatiana Wrenfeather wears have leather upper soles.

“I have very delicate feet,” she said. “Maybe the vegan police will throw me out. To me, it’s a case of doing the best I can. I’m not willing to box myself off and not live.”

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TATIANA WRENFEATHER’S CASHEW CREME (Serve instead of whipped cream)

1 cup raw cashews

3/4 cup purified water

Juice of 1/2 lemon

Zest of one lemon, maple syrup to taste

1 tsp. vanilla

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Soak cashews in purified water 9 hours. Rinse and drain, place in blender with water. Blend cashews until very smooth. If needed add more water. Mix in bowl, adding other ingredients. Refrigerate.

To Jim Abrams, who became a vegetarian five years ago and has been vegan for the last two, the notion of a vegan wearing leather shoes or purchasing a car with leather seats seems almost inexcusable. It’s not as though you can’t easily get non-leather alternatives (Payless shoe stores and an Iowa mail order company called Heartland Products), he says.

When Abrams meets a vegan, he silently inspects the person’s credentials, starting at the feet: Are the shoes leather? These days, with so many good imitations, it’s increasingly difficult to tell, so if he’s in doubt Abrams will ask. From there, he casually shifts to food, gently probing the depths of his new acquaintance’s commitment. The milk protein casein--sometimes found in cheese substitutes--serves as a litmus test, separating the hard-core from dabbling vegans.

A Family Renounces Meat

Under Abrams’ watchful eye, his wife, Sharon, his 8-year-old daughter, Ashley, and his two dogs--Cheyenne and Goldie--have become vegetarian. (Ashley confided she’s the only vegetarian in her third-grade class and “my friend Cassandra thinks it’s crazy.”)

Ashley used to eat Chicken McNuggets. But one day, Jim pointed out chickens in a friend’s yard, saying: “This is what you’re eating, Ashley.” The girl hasn’t eaten poultry again.

The couple’s baby, 5-month-old Riva, is vegan and has never tasted meat, dairy or eggs. She drinks soy milk and has started on vegetable baby food.

“I’m raising her vegan because I think it’s the best, healthiest alternative,” Abrams said.

Abrams proudly shows off his dogs, a Samoyed and a chow-retriever mix, insisting that they are quite content with their non-meat diet, which includes vegetarian dog biscuits.

He grew up in Fort Dodge, Iowa, where his father worked in a meat processing plant. Abrams, who played tackle on his high school team, used to wash down French fries and triple hamburgers with a large Pepsi and would tease a vegetarian friend by cooking a steak and setting it in front of her.

“At the time, I thought it was funny,” he said sheepishly. “If she knew I was vegan now, she’d be laughing.”

Abrams learned about vegetarianism from a late-night radio program, where the hosts spoke of the health benefits and described suffering farm animals being pumped full of antibiotics. Abrams still isn’t sure whether it was the avalanche of chilling facts or the compelling descriptions that turned his stomach and his mind but after the show, he vowed to become vegetarian.

The problem was, he didn’t exactly know how to do it. He went to the bookstore but left unable to find a how-to book. So he simply stopped eating meat. When his wife cooked dinner, he’d eat everything but the meat entree or he’d make his own dish. He missed hot dogs and hamburgers, longing for the texture. He downed salads, steamed veggies, cheese omelets or Egg McMuffins without the meat. It was neither satisfying nor healthy; Abrams gained weight.

“It’s pretty well established that vegetarianism can be more healthy, but it also can be just as high in fat as a non-vegetarian lifestyle,” said Nadine Pazder, a vegetarian and spokeswoman for the American Dietetic Assn. “People eliminate red meat, chicken and fish but eat potato chips and milk shakes.”

Abrams began reading cookbooks. He and his wife took a vegetarian cooking class. He learned about balancing meals, essential amino acids and eating nuts, grains, tofu and stuff he’d never heard of. He became increasingly convinced that meat and meat-related products were virtually a poison, triggering diseases from cancer to strokes. Sure, it would cost more to eat a vegan diet, he figured, but think of the expensive consequences of what everybody else was eating.

Gradually, he completed his transition from one extreme to the other and took up a vegan diet. “I’ve done a 180-degree turn.”

His dedication to veganism has raised some thorny marriage issues. He hates it when Sharon’s sisters arrive with take-out hamburgers to eat at his house. He sees it as a sign of disrespect. (“It’s like smoking in a nonsmoker’s home.”) He’ll glare at strangers eating meat at restaurants or loading steaks into their shopping carts at the store. He suggests that Sharon orders those offending cheese pizzas because of pressure from her meat-eating friends.

“It does cause friction,” said Sharon, an insurance representative. “I’m 38 years old, I don’t need someone telling me what to eat. He doesn’t want to associate with people who don’t eat the way he does. . . . He turns people off quite a bit.”

Jim acknowledges that his dogmatism repels some acquaintances. “I guess I’m more rude--but I want people to be more aware,” he said.

Actually, he says, he’s toned down his behavior. Sure, he might glare at meat-users but he no longer verbally hammers them. He’s trying not to judge.

He realizes what a long way he’s come when he contemplates returning to Fort Dodge in August for his high school reunion. He plans to request in advance a meal that he’ll be able to eat.

He already knows what the answer will be: “What in heck is a vegan meal?”