Who in their right minds would ever want to be a vegetarian? Sharalyn Pliler asked just months before she-accidentally-became one. A few days into a camping trip in the woods, she was amazed to experience that instead of getting weaker without meat, just the opposite happened-she felt more energetic, lighter and more clear-headed, needing to eat less than before while enjoying food even more, as if her taste buds had come alive. Reluctant to become a vegetarian but unable to argue with definitive direct experience, she had no choice but to begin the transition from familiar meat cookery to the unknown world of vegetarianism. Not many cookbooks are page-turners but with her light-hearted style, down-home sense of humor and master's level writing skills, readers are carried effortlessly as she tells her story of awakening to the pleasures and techniques of vegetarianism. Once a cook in a vegetarian university kitchen, now with three decades of vegetarian experience, she seems to anticipate every question.

The Reluctant Vegetarian Cookbook

An Easy Introduction to Cooking Without Meat, Eggs, and Other Once-Favorite Foods and Discovering What Tastes Even BetterBy Sharalyn Pliler

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Sharalyn Pliler
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-8519-0

Contents

Acknowledgements......................................................................................................................................xiChapter 1 How an Omnivore Became a Vegetarian "But I don't want to be a vegetarian!"................................................................1Chapter 2 Learning a New Diet Style Is there life after giving up meat?.............................................................................11Chapter 3 Why Would Anyone in Her Right Mind Ever Become A Vegetarian? "Try it and see for yourself."...............................................23Chapter 4 Acquiring New Tastes, Menus, & Sources of Nutrition "My goodness, I didn't realize there were so many other options.".....................29Chapter 5 Discovering Veggies "But I Don't Like Vegetables."........................................................................................41Chapter 6 Making the Transition "Now that I'm not so reluctant, how do I become a vegetarian?"......................................................47Part II Recipes.......................................................................................................................................55Chapter 7 Sources of Protein: Tofu What Chinese call "Meat Without Bones" and "the Joy of the Kitchen"..............................................57Chapter 8 How To Make Meat and Egg Substitutes from Tofu "Tastes like meat to me!"..................................................................71Chapter 9 Sources of Protein: Beans & Peas "Read this chapter if you know what's good for you"......................................................87Chapter 10 Sources of Protein: Cheese & Dairy "Indeed, the power of cheese."........................................................................103Chapter 11 Sources of Protein: Nuts and Seeds "I didn't know nuts could be used that way!"..........................................................113Chapter 12 Grains The Forgotten Staff of Nutrition..................................................................................................121Chapter 13 Breads and Baking "Look Mom, no eggs!"...................................................................................................131Chapter 14 Making Vegetables Sing "Delicious!"......................................................................................................141Chapter 15 Breakfast "Who would have thought there were so many choices?"...........................................................................163Chapter 16 Sandwiches "Why, I like this even better than meat!".....................................................................................179Chapter 17 Soup de Jour "Ah, the romance of soup."..................................................................................................197Chapter 18 Dressings, Sauces, Gravies "You're right, homemade is better!"...........................................................................207Chapter 19 Herbs & Spices "Our first line of defense against culinary boredom.".....................................................................219Chapter 20 Menus "Ah, Happy Tummy.".................................................................................................................229Afterword.............................................................................................................................................233Bibliography..........................................................................................................................................235Author Biography......................................................................................................................................237

Chapter One

How an Omnivore Became a Vegetarian

"But I don't want to be a vegetarian!"

"Who in their right mind would ever become a vegetarian?" I mused to myself as I turned sizzling pork chops in a cast-iron skillet and feasted on the meaty aroma. Pork chops were my favorite meal. When I say pork chops, I mean just pork chops, nothing else. Like many other people, I considered vegetables to be merely decoration for the meat. At family gatherings where the table groaned with the typical Ozark farm country meat, bread and potatoes, some relative would say, "Oh, yes, we need a vegetable, how about some canned peas?" Such afterthought vegetables were usually seasoned with bacon or ham to, "give them some flavor," as Grandma said. As children, we ate vegetables dutifully. "They're good for you," Mom insisted. "Yuck," I remember thinking, "how could anything that tastes so dull be good for you?"

If, at the moment I was turning those pork chops, someone had told me that before the next Thanksgiving I would become a vegetarian, I would have had a hearty laugh to go with my meal-possibly garnished with a few choice words for the person who suggested it. Give up all the great tasting meat foods for wimpy veggies? Don't be ridiculous.

Over the next few years the memory of that moment and my supercilious disdain was to come back to me on more than one occasion as I ate a new dish called "crow" or-if you prefer it in vegetarian language-"humble pie."

How I-Reluctantly-Became a Vegetarian

I became a vegetarian by the only route open to someone with a closed mind, by accident. It happened in the early '70's when I was on a hippie trip in my customized Volkswagen van. I'd built a bed on one side, bookshelves on the other, packed a tambourine, a typewriter, and a plastic port-a-potty along with such foods that would keep without refrigeration and be easy to cook on a propane stove, then set out for parts unknown.

"Hippie fling," my stern-eyed aunt called my trip. I steamed a little under her withering gaze but kept on going. I wasn't sure at the time what the trip should be called, I just knew I needed to find my own direction, to find out who I was out without alarm clocks, social mandates, friends, or family. Years later, reading about Native Americans' customs, I would understand that the trip might best be called a vision quest, and I would always be glad I did it. I believe everyone needs to have a vision quest.

But, by whatever name the journey might be called, I certainly didn't anticipate that becoming a vegetarian would be one of the outcomes.

I was in fact seriously worried about what would happen to me on a no-meat diet while I camped in the wilderness the first couple of weeks of the trip. Would I become weak? I pictured myself, alone, starved to skin and bones, crawling on hands and knees, finally collapsing on the trail. Months later, hikers would find my skeleton. I reminded myself sternly that if I started feeling weak I should cut the trip short, get back to civilization and get some decent food.

Unexpected Consequences

After leaving my Southwest Missouri "stomping grounds," as one's home area is called in Native American territory, I drove around for a few days in the four-state region looking for the right spot to park my VW. My goal was to find a place to camp where I could turn in a complete circle and see nothing man-made. Somewhere in the vicinity of Fox, Arkansas, I found myself driving down miles of gravel road cut through pastures and dense woods. Suddenly I saw a break in the trees. It was an old two-rut trail, its overgrown grass indicating that it was little if ever used now. I eased the van into it.

After a half-mile of winding, narrow, weed-grown lane, I spotted an isolated clearing, not perfect because there was a man-made pond in the view, but good enough. Careful not to disturb the ground, I worked the van around until it was level enough that I would at least not fall out of bed from the tilt, and set up housekeeping.

It's an interesting thing, being alone. Even though I'd had no fear of being alone in the city, I discovered that being completely alone in the woods was a different matter. At night, I experienced primal fears, even imagining swamp monsters, dripping in muddy horror, staggering out of the pond. I would tell myself, "Don't be silly!" But for the first few days, I was mighty glad to see daybreak, when just a touch of morning sun made nonsense of such fantasies. I'd remind myself that to be acknowledged as warriors, Native American youths had to survive alone in the woods for a week. I had none of their survival skills, but if a teenager could face being alone, surely I, with a van and it's safety and conveniences, could too.

Despite imaginary woo-woos lurking in the shadows, I began feeling a harmony with life. It began to sink in that nature and humans were not separate, as in us versus them, but in fact we were all part of the same marvelous creation. If there was such a thing as swamp monsters, perhaps I should invite them to one of my out-of-the-box macaroni and cheese suppers.

To my surprise, not only did I lose the fear of swap monsters, the fear of dying of starvation on a no-meat diet also proved to be merely from an overworked and under-educated imagination. Within three or four days I was amazed to experience that instead of getting weaker without meat, just the opposite happened-I felt more energetic, lighter and more clear-headed, and despite the increased physical activity of hikes in the woods, I needed to eat less quantity than before. Most amazing of all, I found (despite the overall poor-quality foods I had packed for the trip) that food tasted better, as if my taste buds had come alive.

At the end of the week, watching the sunset change from a brilliant orange and magenta to rhinestone stars sparkling on blues and blacks, I struggled to understand what had happened to me. I'd questioned many things in life but it had never occurred to me before then to question beliefs about the foods we eat.

I asked myself, had this greater strength, clarity and pleasure I'd been experiencing come from not eating meat?

I didn't want to ask that question because in my heart I already knew the answer-it was yes. I tried to argue with myself that maybe a vacation in the fresh air away from the grind of modern life was sufficient to account for it, or maybe it was from the extra exercise.

But it wouldn't play. It was obvious that the change I'd experienced was deeper than what could have come from a mere vacation. I finally had to admit it, my body's reaction to a week on a meatless diet was enthusiastically positive.

Me, a Vegetarian? No Way!

My heart sank. I didn't want to be a vegetarian. I liked the taste of meat foods-tacos, pizzas, spaghetti, and, of course, pork chops. But worse than giving up favorite foods was the thought of being an oddball. I liked thinking of myself as a daring, groundbreaking hippie radical who broke down social conventions in order to bring the world into peace and harmony ... but apparently my courage to be different only applied to strangers. I quailed at the thought of being seen by my peers as being too weird. Hadn't I only a few months earlier defined vegetarians as being not in their right minds?

At the time, medical and nutritional authorities advised eating plenty of meat for a healthy diet; textbooks advised eating it at least once a day; mother served it; fast food was centered around it-meat was everywhere. Even in hippie days, in my social group, anyone that wouldn't die for hamburgers, greasy tacos, or sausage pizza was considered strange.

Yet, no matter how much I might not want to be a vegetarian, how could I argue with the direct experience of feeling so good after a week of no meat?

Struggling with this dilemma, I made a campfire. The friendly crackling flames made good company as I sat poking a stick into them, searching my memory for anything I knew about vegetarianism-bits and pieces of information I'd picked up from a yoga book, articles in National Geographic about different cultures, and books on vegetarianism that had passed mostly ignored under my disdainful nose. I recalled that I'd briefly scanned, scorned and dismissed the whole idea, tossing it, with the pseudo-intellectual arrogance of youth, into such mental categories as primitive oddities, religious fanaticism, and silly customs.

I remembered curling my lip at the idea stated in a yoga book that only those who eat non-meat foods could become spiritually enlightened. At the time I interpreted this information as religious dogma slanted by cultural bias. Much later I would learn that worldwide, many different cultures and religions have advocated a meatless diet, including not only Buddhists and Hindus but ancient Christian Gnostics and modern Mormons. Having experienced how good I felt on a no-meat diet, I had to wonder, could it be that I was the one with the cultural bias?

Staring at the flickering campfire, I realized there might be genuine truth to the yogi's claim, for without the heaviness of meat in my system, I actually did feel en-light-ened-lighter in both mind and body. Plus, I'd experienced that I needed to eat less yet was feeling more energetic. Wouldn't this suggest that the body has to work harder to digest meat, thus diverting energy from the mental/spiritual aspects of growth and development to the lower function of mere physical digestion?

Even if viewed only as a physical health issue, logic argued, if the body had to work harder in order to digest meat, then didn't it make sense that it was not in the best interests of the body to eat it? Much later I'd learn that researchers believe the human body was not designed to eat meat. Comparing the differences between the teeth and digestive tracts of carnivorous animals and man, studies found that where animals had sharp teeth and short digestive tracks to tear their food and digest it quickly, the flatter teeth and longer digestive tracks of humans are superior designs for digesting grains and vegetables.

Watching a spark from the campfire flicker into the star-strewn darkness, I recalled reading that in other parts of the world, whole societies were vegetarian. My assumption when I read about this had been that these must be primitive people who simply had not progressed into the 20th Century. But now sitting in front of my campfire with my body and mind feeling so good from a meatless diet, I wondered, with a sense of astonishment, if it was possible that the truth was actually the other way around-could it be that it was more primitive to eat meat? Had mankind as a whole simply not yet discovered the benefits of vegetarianism?

Beyond the night sounds of cicadas, frogs, and the whispers of wind though pine boughs, I heard a hound bay, and off in the distance, another answered. Was it like that for us humans, where we call out to each other as we struggle to find our way through the mysteries of our lives? Had we, generation after generation, reassured each other that it was not only okay but necessary to eat meat-when, in fact, meat actually wasn't good for us?

Forced now to consider this question, I had to confront yet a larger truth that needed to be considered, and that was that the beings we ate were not things like books, rocks or building materials, but were members of our own family tree. Memories came back to me how I felt as a young child, being told that I was eating the flesh of a once-living being. I'd been horrified. I knew from living on my grandparents' farm that these beings were like me because they had eyes, ears, teeth, skin, and hair-the same body parts, simply arranged differently. They looked at me with big soulful eyes and nuzzled me affectionately. Just like human beings, they nurtured their young, cried in pain and bled red blood when they were cut.

When I protested against eating them, my mother told me that God made animals for us to eat and if we didn't eat them, they'd overrun the earth like cows did in India.

Perhaps because I liked the taste of meat, I rationalized that if Mom and all these other adults thought it is okay, then it must be okay.

Now, in the woods as an adult, I wondered-could it be that in their innocence, children recognize that eating animals, our biological kin, is a form of cannibalism?

Willing to look at reality with fresh eyes, I recalled my experience with the live animals that later would be served on the table-calves sucking my fingers like human babies sucking a pacifier, and baby goats baaing and bouncing like jack-in-the-boxes while my brothers and I squealed with delight. We laughed uproariously watching pigs get glassy eyed with pleasure at being scratched on their bellies, and tried not to hear the piteous mooing of mother cows whose babies had been taken away from them, their grief and longing as unmistakable as the wailing of a human who had lost her child. We also tried to ignore it when grandpa chopped off the heads of chickens, their headless bodies filled with adrenaline's fight or flight flapping frantically around the farmyard long after their decapitation.

The truth, I had to admit, was that animals experience the same emotions that I did-pleasure and play, love and the need for love, fear, pain and fatigue ... the difference was only in degree. Seeing it, the thought suddenly came to me that we don't eat developmentally lesser humans, so what gives us the right to eat animals just because they are less developed?

Taking it one step further, I asked myself, if the life force in a human being is sacred, then how could the life force in an animal be any less sacred?

It was this last thought that brought me over the edge to a new life. Just as I would not eat my human brother, I could no longer eat my little brothers in evolution.

I tossed my stick into the fire. The decision was made. I had become a vegetarian.

Chapter Two

Learning a New Diet Style

Is there life after giving up meat?

To my surprise, in the thirty years that have passed since I reluctantly became a vegetarian, whenever I tell others I am a vegetarian the response has not been, "Are you out of your mind?' In fact, I have been inspired to write this book because so many people have said to me, "I'd really like to eat less meat, but I don't know what else to fix."

I know how they feel. Driving the van out of the woods back to "civilization," I felt so much better that I knew my decision to become a vegetarian had been the right thing to do. But I also realized I didn't know beans about a meatless diet. What do vegetarians do for a main dish? What if they want a sandwich? What do they eat at restaurants? How do they know if they're getting a balanced diet? What works for taste satisfaction?

Driving past McDonalds, Taco Bell and all my old meat haunts, my taste habits made me long for a good ole' taco, burger or pizza. But every time I thought about actually eating meat, my stomach protested. Put that greasy, heavy stuff in my body after the great experience I'd had in the woods without it? No way.

But what else was there to eat? Like many new vegetarians, my diet was terrible for the first few months. Until I became a vegetarian, my acquaintance with non-meat foods had been limited to white bread, cheese (as in processed cheese-sandwiches and powdered cheese in macaroni-and-cheese), boiled beans, salads, canned vegetables, and, of course, potatoes at every meal. How much more boring could one get? Reluctant to admit I didn't have a clue, for a while I lived primarily on granola, salads and milk.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Reluctant Vegetarian Cookbookby Sharalyn Pliler Copyright © 2009 by Sharalyn Pliler. Excerpted by permission.
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