Whenever a strict vegetarian steps out of his comfort zone in India into the big bad world, there are sinister elements lurking around every corner, waiting to sabotage his philosophy and practice regarding food. It is true that the chances of this person remaining unviolated in terms of his intake have improved significantly over the decades; but that does not mean he will not be compromised at some point. So, it is best to be on guard always, as my experience vouches. I see that while things have changed, they have remained the same in some dimensions. Choices of vegetarian food have multiplied in all parts of the world, no doubt. But an unsuspecting vegetarian might momentarily end up being a carnivore, if he exposes the chinks in his armour even a wee bit and displays suicidal carelessness in matters of consumption.
We were recently in a Thai restaurant on the 2nd Avenue in Manhattan. I had just ordered a vegetarian Pad Thai for myself. Experience had taught me to be very specific in communicating to the waitress what does not constitute `vegetarian' food, while placing the order. No meat, no fish, no bird, nothing that ever lived and died, I had explained to her and she had smiled what I optimistically interpreted as an `understanding' smile, giving me comfort. When she was just about to turn away to execute our order, I remembered another crucial edict - `no shrimp paste' in the food, please! Invariably, Thai vegetarian food ends up smelling of shrimp because that ubiquitous ingredient finds its way into some ready-made base used for many dishes; I have had to pay for two orders of a Thai meal due to the omission of this important footnote, even though more often than not, restaurants tend to magnanimously replace the order without fuss. My wife was pretty sure that something would go awry with the order, even though we were at that specific restaurant for the umpteenth time in the last few years. Well, we could only wait and see what the harvest would be like.
When the food arrived, my wife relished the first spoonful of her Tom Yum Goong, commiserating with me because that particular item, even in its vegetarian avatar, had been a serial offender in my case with its strong shrimp paste flavour. Then my Pad Thai arrived and I was all ready to invade the plate. When I scooped up the first forkful, I was almost elated at not being assaulted by the shrimp smell but my spirits drooped since something vaguely unfamiliar did offend the nostrils. After a full scale investigation involving smelling the food from various angles as well as using the fork for a near-forensic analysis of the dish, my dear wife proclaimed that it was safe for a vegetarian's consumption. My heightened sense of smell being refined to the extreme, I was not very convinced and called the waitress to seek an explanation for what I knew was an hitherto-not-identified alien smell in the vegetarian Pad Thai. That worthy swore that all the forbidden materials have been diligently kept out of my order and the dish had been prepared without using any ready-made base. Left with no other alternative, I had to reluctantly ask her to smell the food and identify the offending material. She did so and triumphantly declared `Sir, that is not non-vegetarian, it is just our oyster ....... sauce'! Those dots between `oyster' and `sauce' represent the stutter in her delivery stride, as she realised the goof-up. `Oh, but you cant have oyster sauce either, I guess'?, she said, commencing her retreat with the plate. She was very apologetic, so was her manager and they replaced the order dutifully. I must say I enjoyed the meal because under such circumstances the final dish is always prepared with extra care. Now I have added one more item to the ever-lengthening list of `forbidden items', to be communicated at the time of ordering - Oyster/Fish Sauce!
It was not always like this. Was far worse! When I arrived in Manila for my first overseas assignment in 1983, one of my first chores was to explore all avenues to get a fix on `somewhat edible' nourishment for lunch at the office, since I was forewarned by knowledgeable colleagues of the severe pitfalls I was sure to encounter. After all, I was in a country which prided itself on its all-beef-and-pork routine!! Armed with telephonic exhortations to the cafeteria from a Senior Vice President and physically supported by the Head of Administration, I had an extended meeting with the lady running that respectable institution. I still clearly recollect the unadulteratedly baffled expression on her face, after I read the riot act to her in English regarding my food preferences and this was enunciated in Tagalog, the local language, for clarity and effect, by my companion. Shell-shocked by this appallingly strange species that had invaded her territory, she asked softly `So, what exactly CAN you eat'? After another huddle for half an hour, we finally narrowed down the options to vegetable noodles, vegetable fried rice and french fries, provided they were cooked without any lard or meat stock. She was so harassed by then, she probably needed immediate sustenance in the form of buckets of beef stew and pork cutlets by the dozens! After a couple of months of feeding me, this lady Cori, my `annadhaathaa' in Philippines, openly expressed her admiration for my perseverance in eating those two dishes she had long got terribly tired of making! She actually asked me to teach her to make a couple of other vegetarian dishes, in a massive display of sympathy and goodwill.
Office parties overseas were another certain source of trepidation for me because extensive pre-party confabulations with the hosts did not guarantee that I would not end up eating peanuts and drinking orange juice through the evening, much to the consternation of my colleagues. I still remember one Christmas party, where the pride of place in the table was given to `lechon', a Filipino speciality which I had not encountered till then. When this distinguished national dish of the country made its grand entry, carried by two bearers, I wished I did not have to make its acquaintance. Lechon was, and still is, a full, charcoal-roasted pig in all its glory and was brought to the table in its `stretched-out-pig' form. When they started carving it with a saw and then a knife, singing and clapping all the while, I headed straight to the restroom, not to return in a hurry! Similarly, when we were at a seafood restaurant (yeah, I know; why did I have to go there and then complain, you want to know. Protocol demanded that I be there and I just could not wriggle out, if that satisfies you) in Singapore and the order was delivered to our table, I cringed to see it was a shark-length fish. Unfortunately, the waiter had parked it on the table in such a way that one of its extremely dead eyes was scrutinizing me relentlessly, making me fidget. A very good Chinese friend of mine, sitting next to me, felt my discomfiture and asked me whether the aforesaid silent communication process was upsetting me. Even before I could respond, he took a fork, dug the eye out along with some flesh and swallowed the stuff, with genuinely appreciative clicks of his tongue. Later he clarified that was indeed one of the tastiest parts of the fish!! Well, I did not have anything to eat there or elsewhere for the next couple of days!
I could go on. About the time I was served a specially prepared 9-course vegetarian Cantonese marriage banquet in Hong Kong, when mushroom, then bamboo and later mushroom+bamboo appeared in different forms thrice each and I was close to puking by the 4th course. Or that time in Taipei, when I had to eat a specifically-made-to-order (after intense struggle with the store manager, I must add) McDonald's bun (I don't want to dignify that with the title of burger), with a couple of pieces of zucchini pickle inside, served with french fries, apple pie and orange juice as lunch for 45 days at a stretch, because no restaurant in the vicinity had anything remotely meatless to offer! Or that time in Korea when, despite my best efforts in faultless ordering, I got fried rice with a dozen shrimps and assorted meat pieces. When I protested, the owner came out with a angrier-than-normal-scowl and yanked the dish to the kitchen only to bring it back in a jiffy, after deftly removing the shrimps out of the rice. Obviously I lost confidence in the joint and declined further consumption in that establishment. The positive fallout was that thereafter I had two Korean bank officers accompanying me like bodyguards, for lunch every day, just to ensure that I got something to eat and that great country did not wilt under a true vegetarian's hungry curse. Or that time when the entire lot of us went to Tokyo Joes, a crab and lobster joint and the restaurant had to actually send somebody out to fetch something vegetarian for me. A whole lot of inedible salads etc came and true to legendary Japanese hospitality, Tokyo Joes footed the bill for me - the first time in their history they ordered food for a guest from outside and paid for it too, I was sure!
But this one should take the cake and everything else with that. An American colleague of mine and I went to a European restaurant in Amsterdam for dinner. Since he knew my predilections regarding food very well, I left him to order for me and stepped out to take a call. When I returned, this beaming friend told me he had ordered two portions of the same meat dish, which came with portions of salads and fries as sides. He convincingly said `You know I hate vegetables and I know you don't eat meat. So, this smart order means I take both the portions of the meat and you take all the salads and fries'. Touche!!
We were recently in a Thai restaurant on the 2nd Avenue in Manhattan. I had just ordered a vegetarian Pad Thai for myself. Experience had taught me to be very specific in communicating to the waitress what does not constitute `vegetarian' food, while placing the order. No meat, no fish, no bird, nothing that ever lived and died, I had explained to her and she had smiled what I optimistically interpreted as an `understanding' smile, giving me comfort. When she was just about to turn away to execute our order, I remembered another crucial edict - `no shrimp paste' in the food, please! Invariably, Thai vegetarian food ends up smelling of shrimp because that ubiquitous ingredient finds its way into some ready-made base used for many dishes; I have had to pay for two orders of a Thai meal due to the omission of this important footnote, even though more often than not, restaurants tend to magnanimously replace the order without fuss. My wife was pretty sure that something would go awry with the order, even though we were at that specific restaurant for the umpteenth time in the last few years. Well, we could only wait and see what the harvest would be like.
When the food arrived, my wife relished the first spoonful of her Tom Yum Goong, commiserating with me because that particular item, even in its vegetarian avatar, had been a serial offender in my case with its strong shrimp paste flavour. Then my Pad Thai arrived and I was all ready to invade the plate. When I scooped up the first forkful, I was almost elated at not being assaulted by the shrimp smell but my spirits drooped since something vaguely unfamiliar did offend the nostrils. After a full scale investigation involving smelling the food from various angles as well as using the fork for a near-forensic analysis of the dish, my dear wife proclaimed that it was safe for a vegetarian's consumption. My heightened sense of smell being refined to the extreme, I was not very convinced and called the waitress to seek an explanation for what I knew was an hitherto-not-identified alien smell in the vegetarian Pad Thai. That worthy swore that all the forbidden materials have been diligently kept out of my order and the dish had been prepared without using any ready-made base. Left with no other alternative, I had to reluctantly ask her to smell the food and identify the offending material. She did so and triumphantly declared `Sir, that is not non-vegetarian, it is just our oyster ....... sauce'! Those dots between `oyster' and `sauce' represent the stutter in her delivery stride, as she realised the goof-up. `Oh, but you cant have oyster sauce either, I guess'?, she said, commencing her retreat with the plate. She was very apologetic, so was her manager and they replaced the order dutifully. I must say I enjoyed the meal because under such circumstances the final dish is always prepared with extra care. Now I have added one more item to the ever-lengthening list of `forbidden items', to be communicated at the time of ordering - Oyster/Fish Sauce!
It was not always like this. Was far worse! When I arrived in Manila for my first overseas assignment in 1983, one of my first chores was to explore all avenues to get a fix on `somewhat edible' nourishment for lunch at the office, since I was forewarned by knowledgeable colleagues of the severe pitfalls I was sure to encounter. After all, I was in a country which prided itself on its all-beef-and-pork routine!! Armed with telephonic exhortations to the cafeteria from a Senior Vice President and physically supported by the Head of Administration, I had an extended meeting with the lady running that respectable institution. I still clearly recollect the unadulteratedly baffled expression on her face, after I read the riot act to her in English regarding my food preferences and this was enunciated in Tagalog, the local language, for clarity and effect, by my companion. Shell-shocked by this appallingly strange species that had invaded her territory, she asked softly `So, what exactly CAN you eat'? After another huddle for half an hour, we finally narrowed down the options to vegetable noodles, vegetable fried rice and french fries, provided they were cooked without any lard or meat stock. She was so harassed by then, she probably needed immediate sustenance in the form of buckets of beef stew and pork cutlets by the dozens! After a couple of months of feeding me, this lady Cori, my `annadhaathaa' in Philippines, openly expressed her admiration for my perseverance in eating those two dishes she had long got terribly tired of making! She actually asked me to teach her to make a couple of other vegetarian dishes, in a massive display of sympathy and goodwill.
Office parties overseas were another certain source of trepidation for me because extensive pre-party confabulations with the hosts did not guarantee that I would not end up eating peanuts and drinking orange juice through the evening, much to the consternation of my colleagues. I still remember one Christmas party, where the pride of place in the table was given to `lechon', a Filipino speciality which I had not encountered till then. When this distinguished national dish of the country made its grand entry, carried by two bearers, I wished I did not have to make its acquaintance. Lechon was, and still is, a full, charcoal-roasted pig in all its glory and was brought to the table in its `stretched-out-pig' form. When they started carving it with a saw and then a knife, singing and clapping all the while, I headed straight to the restroom, not to return in a hurry! Similarly, when we were at a seafood restaurant (yeah, I know; why did I have to go there and then complain, you want to know. Protocol demanded that I be there and I just could not wriggle out, if that satisfies you) in Singapore and the order was delivered to our table, I cringed to see it was a shark-length fish. Unfortunately, the waiter had parked it on the table in such a way that one of its extremely dead eyes was scrutinizing me relentlessly, making me fidget. A very good Chinese friend of mine, sitting next to me, felt my discomfiture and asked me whether the aforesaid silent communication process was upsetting me. Even before I could respond, he took a fork, dug the eye out along with some flesh and swallowed the stuff, with genuinely appreciative clicks of his tongue. Later he clarified that was indeed one of the tastiest parts of the fish!! Well, I did not have anything to eat there or elsewhere for the next couple of days!
I could go on. About the time I was served a specially prepared 9-course vegetarian Cantonese marriage banquet in Hong Kong, when mushroom, then bamboo and later mushroom+bamboo appeared in different forms thrice each and I was close to puking by the 4th course. Or that time in Taipei, when I had to eat a specifically-made-to-order (after intense struggle with the store manager, I must add) McDonald's bun (I don't want to dignify that with the title of burger), with a couple of pieces of zucchini pickle inside, served with french fries, apple pie and orange juice as lunch for 45 days at a stretch, because no restaurant in the vicinity had anything remotely meatless to offer! Or that time in Korea when, despite my best efforts in faultless ordering, I got fried rice with a dozen shrimps and assorted meat pieces. When I protested, the owner came out with a angrier-than-normal-scowl and yanked the dish to the kitchen only to bring it back in a jiffy, after deftly removing the shrimps out of the rice. Obviously I lost confidence in the joint and declined further consumption in that establishment. The positive fallout was that thereafter I had two Korean bank officers accompanying me like bodyguards, for lunch every day, just to ensure that I got something to eat and that great country did not wilt under a true vegetarian's hungry curse. Or that time when the entire lot of us went to Tokyo Joes, a crab and lobster joint and the restaurant had to actually send somebody out to fetch something vegetarian for me. A whole lot of inedible salads etc came and true to legendary Japanese hospitality, Tokyo Joes footed the bill for me - the first time in their history they ordered food for a guest from outside and paid for it too, I was sure!
But this one should take the cake and everything else with that. An American colleague of mine and I went to a European restaurant in Amsterdam for dinner. Since he knew my predilections regarding food very well, I left him to order for me and stepped out to take a call. When I returned, this beaming friend told me he had ordered two portions of the same meat dish, which came with portions of salads and fries as sides. He convincingly said `You know I hate vegetables and I know you don't eat meat. So, this smart order means I take both the portions of the meat and you take all the salads and fries'. Touche!!
