This Is Jersey

I HAVE always viewed vegans with a certain amount of suspicion.

I used to think that they were similar to religious fundamentalists – both groups have taken quirky ideas (religion and vegetarianism) and developed their passion on these subjects to dangerous levels.

Now, obviously I’m not saying that all vegans are potential terrorists or book-burners (for a start, they lack the energy) but society tends to view any nonconformists with a wariness and vegans are casually dismissed by the majority of carnivores as being a bit barmy.

Up until a week ago, I would probably have agreed, but, having spent a week eating a vegan diet, I now have much more sympathy with the protein-lacking community and their anti-animal-products living.

I was persuaded to experience vegan eating by my colleague Gill, a vegan for the last 15 years. Having put up with constant heckling from people, for about …well, for about 15 years, she laid down the gauntlet after I ventured one too many jokes about lentils.

It seemed like a good idea. It would be healthy, nutritious and in light of huge food price increases, it might save me money. The rules are: no meat, no fish, no dairy products (cheese, milk, yoghurt etc), no eggs and most bizarrely of all, no honey, presumably to support the millions of enslaved bees across the world. The diet also precludes any foods that contain animal products such as gelatine, animal fat or rennet.

The night before I started my week’s abstention from all things flavoursome, I went to a barbecue and filled up on meat. Shirking all vegetables and anything that had never had a pulse, I indulged in a personal orgy of dead animals, loading my plate high with sausages, steak and kebabs. Suffering from a meat hangover the next morning, I was actually looking forward to a few days of eating just beans, lentils and dust.

DAY ONE – Monday
I never eat breakfast but think I have failed at the first hurdle when, brushing my teeth, I notice that the toothpaste contains glycerine. With a mouthful of minty animal bone juice, I compromise by making sure that I don’t swallow and resolve to plant a tree later to make up for it. I am reliably informed later that it is gelatine, not glycerine, that is extracted from bone, hoof and skin and that I am still, so far, a vegan.

11 am – hungry. Scour the staff canteen for anything that qualifies but the only thing I find is a packet of peanuts. They will have to do. I wash them down with another cup of herbal tea and ignore the sensible advice from Gill who wants to know what I have brought for lunch. Well, in various drawers on my desk I find half a packet of chewing gum, a few more herbal teas and some cup-a-soups which were quickly ruled out for various rogue ingredients including milk powder, gelatine and, most obviously, chicken.

As I grumble into a cup of mango and loganberry tea – I mean, why does vegetable soup even need milk powder? – the enormity of the undertaking begins to sink in. By dinner time, I’m starving and the thrown together concoction of spicy lentil soup with sweetcorn and rye crackers does just enough to satisfy.

DAY TWO – Tuesday
With my stomach still growling after Monday’s meagre rations, I search the cupboards for anything that could be considered both vegan and lunch. After rejecting the only possible choices (a tin of sweetcorn and some sprouting potatoes) I grab an apple and head to work. My vegan colleague bounds over and, with a triumphant flourish, gives me a tub of vegan butter. Oh great, something to dip my apple in to. Today is going to be hard.

Lunch is two packets of ready-salted crisps. At this rate, I’ll have either rickets or scurvy by the end of the week and will probably be unhealthier than when I started. But things are looking up by the evening. Armed with a recipe for peanut loaf, dinner promises to be, if not exciting, at least slightly interesting. The realisation that hummus is vegan is another bonus and after inhaling a large tub of the chickpea dip after work, for the first time this week, I feel full. The walnut loaf (I’m out of peanuts) is quite tasty and could probably be served up without anyone knowing it is a decidedly healthy wodge of food that, in its creation, caused no suffering to animals.

DAY THREE – Wednesday
Breakfast is a cold slice of the walnut loaf which is not so good the second day. However, Gill proves to be my saviour at work, bringing me a sandwich of homemade bread stuffed full of falafel and salad from the garden. It is delicious and proof that, with a bit of planning and forethought, vegans can eat well. Dinner is a large salad with Moroccan chickpea dip and another litre of hummus. Three days down, four to go and this is not proving to be the chore that I first thought. I actually feel quite healthy and despite a yearning for cheese, I’m not really missing meat.

DAY FOUR – Thursday
Seem to have lost my appetite and survive the whole day on a few peanuts, a banana and a couple of joyless vegan biscuits stolen from Gill’s desk. Bored now. More sodding hummus for dinner.

DAY FIVE – Friday
At the JEP, Friday is the day when our popular baker, June, brings in piping hot sausage rolls and freshly baked cakes. As the smell of the food spreads around the building, people rush over for their weekly fix and normally I am among them. This week, however, I am instead contemplating a vegan sausage and salad sandwich, kindly prepared by Gill. Again, it is delicious but as everyone else around me is munching sausage rolls and coffee cake, I feel like I am missing out.

DAY SIX – Saturday
After a few too may vegan beers last night, I am craving a bacon roll but have to be satisfied with beans on toast instead. Hummus now tastes like wallpaper paste and is shoved to the back of the fridge, alongside the soya yoghurt (gloopy) and a miserable packet of tofu (spongy).

DAY SEVEN – Sunday
The only real meal of the day is dinner: lentil curry with rice. Maybe my taste buds have adjusted over the course of a week but it is very enjoyable. As my experiment comes to an end, I flirt with the idea of a full-time conversion but the thought of never eating roast chicken or steak and chips fills me with terror. Life’s too short. Though, admittedly, it may be longer if you are a vegan.

The diet has virtually no cholesterol and the founder of veganism, Donald Watson, lived to 95. That should be encouragement enough for some people but not for everyone. lSince living vegan for a week, I definitely have a different perspective on food. I would now consider myself a vegan sympathiser.

I understand why people do it but it just isn’t for me because I am happy knowing that animals are reared for consumption and aware of the processes used to kill them. However, I think I have developed my own form of veganism.

Akin to the hypocritical new trend of ‘offsetting’ your carbon footprint, I think you can offset your meat eating. Therefore, if I eat a steak one day, I will stroke a cow for ten minutes to balance things up. This could be bigger than scientology. One thing I have come round to: if you are going to be a vegetarian because you like animals and don’t want to hurt them, you should go the whole way and become a vegan.

A vegetarian does just as much as a meat eater to contribute to the suffering of animals but it is less obvious. Drinking milk makes you responsible for the slaughter of hundreds of baby calves each year. At least vegans go the whole hog. Gill was not surprised that I had not been converted to veganism but she said that she appreciated my efforts. However, she has so far steadfastly refused to turn the tables and eat meat for a week because she just doesn’t have the stomach for it.