Eternal travails of the vegeterian mind

If you have friends who are vegetarian, I think you should be kind to their leafy eating habits. After all, vegetarian food is healthy, animal friendly and simplistically no frills attached. However, if you happen to be traveling exotic European nations with your herbivore friends, then you might have a slight problem. Lettuce and tomato are vegetarian agreed, but how the fuck do you convince the bloke at the counter that you do not want the B of the BLT. Anyways, provided they can sort themselves out and live on Croissants and double chocolate chip muffins and let you savour the uninhibited joys of Spanish tapas or unpronounceable ‘what did I just order for’ French entrees’ its all fair and square. Let us assume not, but in case your friends are of the ‘we eat veg’ and of the complaining variety, then I am afraid you’ve got no go but to shoot them. Preferably, at point blank range. Allow me people, to give you a random sample of how life with a minimal sample set of choices can get extremely stifling. Not always for the proud vegetarian alone. But also for the others who unfortunately have to share the table.

*******************************

Scene: Random restaurant somewhere in Bangalore. Table for two. Hunger levels dangerously high. Menu on the table proclaims it’s Chinese. You don’t care. The décor is all dragon like and the place is called Chopsticks. Obviously it had to be Chinese. But simple things not registering. Reason: as mentioned earlier – hunger levels dangerously high.

You run through the menu and there is instant dilation of the pupils. Chicken drumsticks. Probably with silver foil at the end. Probably, four or six pieces; sticking out of the chinaware like the radiating sun. Probably, with a chili sauce dip in the middle. What joy. “Chicken drumsticks da”, you announce more of an order and less of a suggestion. “Good choice. I like drumsticks. Preferably in sambar though”. “One vegetable spring roll, boss”. Order made. Friend looks at you like you never spoke at all. “Veg Hakka noodles or Schezwan fried rice - veg?”

You fumble for the non existent double barrel Heckler and Koch. How you wish…

***********************************

Scene: Zurich, Switzerland. The last couple of days has taught you that in any Swiss city you turn left at the station and the fourth shop on the left has to be a McDonalds. Haha. It is. The first feel of falling snow on your face. You want to convince yourself that it’s a great feeling. You will probably go onto tell it was. But it’s freakin’ cold and the last thing you want to be doing is stupid things like standing in the snow. Veggie friends almost give a high five on spotting McDonalds. You are pissed that you are not trying Nordsee, where the king prawns are big and pink and stately. You settle for a chicken sandwich while the boys order something else that you don’t bother with. Dispensing euros is a new found challenge and we all feel fairly satisfied when it’s done with. I vaguely remember my good TamBram friend telling ‘dinner pramadham’.

The train to Interlaken the following day was at ten past nine. And by Swiss standards that means ten past nine. Not nine past nine or eleven past nine. Veggie boys convince me that because of Swiss train accuracy, we have no go but to pick up breakfast from you know where – fourth shop on the left - McDonalds. We make quick take away purchases and hurry into the plush airline like Interlaken bound train. Hills; vales; floating clouds all whiz past like in a fairyland. Tam Bram friend of mine, is relishing his burger.

‘How is it’, I ask.
‘Too good’ (Chomp. chomp). ‘Had the same thing yesterday. Super pa, so bought two today’.
‘What is it’, I ask.
‘Cheese burger’ (Chomp. chomp).
‘Ok. Cheese burger with what?’
‘Cheese burger with cheese’ (Laughs)
‘Agreed da, but there is a patty in there isn’t it?’
Freeze. More hills, vales and floating clouds whiz past.

Even I don’t eat beef. So we threw the second one at a bin somewhere in Interlaken. Not surprisingly, we didn’t do any more McDonalds on that trip.

*************************

Scene: East Anglia, England. It rained this morning. But it’s alright now. Sun shining brightly and all. The Radio one weather broadcaster predicting a cold stay warm kind of night ahead. How weird is this island, you wonder. Friend beams a 100 watt smile – ‘We have a team party tomorrow’. ‘Oh grand’, I reply. Wattage of the smile increases. ‘Barbeque party’. ‘Oh lovely’, I exclaim. ‘Lucky bastard’, I quip in hush undertones.

Following day I don’t meet him. Barbeque party. Obviously.

The day following day, the smile on friend’s face is surprisingly zero watt like. I need to buy one of those for my study lamp, I make mental note.
Me: “How was the party da”
Friend: “Ok”.
Me: “Food?”
Friend: “All beef and pork man. I only had Walkers chips”

Muhahahaha. Obviously, you fool. You can’t have vegetables being grilled in a barbeque party.

***************************

P.S: Friend in Chinese restaurant, Tam Bram friend and friend with zero watt smile – no offence meant. Seriously :)

P.P.S: Watch this space for more vegetarian tales. And if you don’t see any then it’s solely because I am at gunpoint and this one has not been well received.