Monday, October 10, 2005

“Vegan Banquet”

Like ‘friendly fire’, these words feel uncomfortable, even improbable, together.
But, hey, I’m one of the many thirty-somethings who in the past trained themselves to consume ‘milks’ called ‘Rice Dream’ and ‘Soy Delicious’ before finding out that female mice fed on GM soy beans were growing penises. And anyway, putting stuff in your tea that actually curdles on contact makes you start really enjoying the ever-reliable, mechanised consistency of some really unhealthy products like Coke and Big Macs.
When I stayed in New York, imagined mid-life crises around dairy-intolerance became a regular conversation topic at parties. When we left our apartment I had a T shirt made for my landlord / friend – a major exponent of the theory that milk products were killing us all. It said ‘Dairy Happens’, and went down a storm.
Now, this is my blog and I don’t have to be fair - but having ranted against Lake District food here, I really have to haul a recent ‘vegan banquet’ (their words) consumed in London recently, right over the coals. Which, incidentally, might have helped furnish the dishes with that elusive but important culinary feature – flavour.
The cafe was in one of the last central London hippie / squatter enclaves, and so you’re eating in what almost feels like a theme restaurant in this age of bleached laminate-flooring and chrome light fittings. Bizarre throwbacks such as freestyle jazz and allowing smoking compound the retro vibe. You can almost imagine staff being issued with uniforms of ratty dred wigs and piercings behind the kitchen door. Anyway, suffice to say that the tepid mush served us had all the classic vegan attributes – no seasoning, undercooked pulses, overcooked vegetables and a certain holier than thou miserliness – no fresh coriander (they even manage that at the tandoori in Maryport for God’s sake) and certainly nothing as needlessly raunchy as a popadum.

So, if you find yourself mysteriously craving a vegan banquet in central London, take my advice and eat at one of the many fabulous and economical South Indian restaurants behind Euston train station on Drummond Street. You can even wig out completely and order a (dairy-filled) lassi with it.

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