The mission burrito: vegan style at El Casa Mexicana, SF

The mission burrito. It had to happen. It’s a behemoth that puts all other burritos I’ve eaten to shame. It looks more like a brick than a food stuff, and after eating a quarter of it, I feel that the whole pound of burrito that is left could feed a small family for a week.

  

Although everybody says you should go to Mission Street to get the burrito if your dreams, we obviously didn’t do that, and went to a road about five blocks west, closer to Duboce and Castro than Mission. I wanted to go in because I am perennially afraid of beans being cooked in pig lard, and Casa Mexicana had an enormous range of vegetarian options including tofu. This sounded like the worst option, so I opted for that to see if they could make it work.

Like everyone in the world, they couldn’t make the white flaccid tofu work, however marinated it had been in Mexican flavour sauces. But the rest of the burrito was incredible.

First she coated the tortilla bread in a layer of rice, added black beans (with an elaborate wrist-flick) and scattered a few chunks of tofu (regret). Then a generous handful of lettuce, guacamole, hot sauce, and chopped tomatoes before packaging it all up – envelope style – and thwacking it on the plate.

If this sounds bland – thank you for your concern, but don’t panic! There was an enormous station of condiments, sauces, limes, and chopped onions to pour and drizzle over, which made the whole experience far more verdant and tangy.

I’ve been carrying around the amount of burrito I didn’t finish for about an hour and I’m concerned about developing repetitive strain damage. For $5.50, that’s an insane amount of good, tasty food, from not quite in the mission district and a free helping of some of the best tortilla chips of all time.

Buddha Bodai: eating vegan in NYC’s Chinatown

  

Vegan Thai and Chinese restaurants in big American cities are ten-a-penny, but I was keen to revisit a vegan Chinese restaurant in New York after a previous disastrous attempt with my parents.

My dad knows what he likes to eat – tofu carved into the shape of a chicken is not one of these things. We went expecting chow mein and we left slightly startled and still hungry. I fear that experience has put him off Asian eating for life. 

Although I’ve travelled to China since – and really enjoyed the choice and tastes of vegetarian food – I’ve always been a little unnerved by fake meat and things that are meant to resemble chicken feet or intestines but are actually tofu. 

We poked around San Francisco’s Chinatown – at 24 blocks, it’s the largest Chinatown outside of China, but already full and rolling from a hefty brunch at Herbivore we just couldn’t make room for dim sum. 

  

So an opportune day trip to New York arose in the form of a lengthy layover at JFK, and we decided to fully embrace a trip to Chinatown to Buddha Bodai to give vegan Chinese another go.

For $7.50 you get unlimited hot tea, a starter of soup or spring roll, rice, and an enormous plate of main meal (19 options!). These ranged from the weird (chicken nuggets in sauce, to the delicious, normal sounding broccoli and deep fried shiitake mushroom in sauce. 

  

It’s canteen style, with tables relatively close together and a busy, impersonal service, but the food is phenomenal.

I have never eaten such an incredible sweet sour soup in my whole life, and Sam, who eats meat, agrees. It’s a little over-thickened and the texture is a tad gloopy, but who the hell cares? It’s warm, and spicy, and sour without being rich and without any hint of that sticky red sweetness that constitutes a sweet and sour soup in London’s Chinatown. 

  

The spring roll had that pleasing crunch of pastry and slight ooze of oil that you hope for in a spring roll. Even better, you could taste the vegetables inside it – they were crunchy too and hadn’t just been denigrated to a slimy mush. 

The mains were a slightly mixed bag, but that’s only because I wanted to try the plate of bean curd skin, and in reflection, that was a mistake. The mushrooms and broccoli was a dish from another world. I hadn’t quite realised the mushroom would be deep fried and coated in a sticky, gelatinous sauce, so it was crunchy and sticky at the same time. 

  

Too tired after my bumpy-non sleeping night flight to even chew, (#firstworldproblems), Sam polished off most of two mains and the two starters and tea. 

  

It was a noble effort, and we waddled out of Chinatown and towards the subway, where I promptly fell asleep. 

Santa Monica Blues: Real Food Daily

You know those moods you get into when nothing goes well? And even though you’re obviously having the time of your life being in Santa Monica (etc etc), even if somebody from Penguin rocked up and offered you a book contract you’d manage a grimace at best?

Well that was my mood in Santa Monica. Apart from being disastrously difficult to reach by public transport (despite the 704), a woman who had clearly never had a shower sat down in front of me and I couldn’t physically move. While I was trying not to retch (the smell was indescribable) I ran through twenty million things like: this woman has been victimised by the US’s terrible social security system; it’s disgusting that there are no benefits; she might have had a catastrophic medical bill to pay; depression can make even keeping clean challenging. But despite my liberal attempts at justifying this lady’s state, I couldn’t ignore two things: there are free showers down by the beach, and that I would be on a bus with her for an hour. It was tough, but even admitting that felt hard. My one hour of hardship was nothing compared to her life, so I shouldn’t ever complain.

Second strike: We rocked up at a hotel in Santa Monica that I thought I’d organised through a PR for the one free night of my trip, but turns out I was an idiot and hadn’t confirmed it. So we were on the road sooner than we had planned to be.

And here’s where my foul mood started: even though we went to Real Food Daily, I couldn’t shift the black cloud of irritation. So, now we’ve put the meal into perspective, let me give as balanced opinion as I can of the meal.

1. It didn’t open until 11am. What is with late opening times in LA? It’s not like anything even shuts late…

2. I ordered the veggie burger with all the trimmings (seiten bacon, cashew cheese, and avocado). At 13 dollars this should be included anyway. It pushed the price up to 16 dollars which was a lot.

3. The plate was accompanied by a caeser salad with crouton chunks. These could probably be donated to the local geological society under “lumps of lava”. They were inedibably hard – I was concerned that if I ate more than one chunk I’d be returning to the UK with no teeth. Not ideal.

4. The seiten bacon and cashew cheese were absolutely delicious, and the lentil burger was ok. The best thing about the whole plate? The tangy and creamy caeser salad dressing.

5. No wifi. Do not come here if you need to arrange urgent road trip preparations or book hotels. (From painful experience).

6. The service was amazing. Our server was lovely and cheerful and friendly.

7. The bakery part of RFD looked like something out of this world. Amazing. I only wish I’d had room after the burger to try something, like a slice of pie or slab of chocolate cake. Sigh.

It didn’t manage to turn my bad mood around, but it did fill a sizeable hole in my stomach. And the server was fab – did I mention that?

An ode to fish sauce, Vegan House, LA

There are many reasons why we chose to go to a Thai restaurant when we were staying in Filipino Town, none of which are remotely interesting.

But this place happened to be a short 25 minute walk from the airbnb apartment where we were staying. Apparently there are more than 20 vegan Thai places in the LA area, and I really can’t work out why. No amount of googling will tell me – if anybody knows why Thai people have all gone vegan when fish sauce is such a mainstay of all ther dishes, it would be great to hear.

It was just a local take-out with some authentic Thai tables and chair atmosphere included. I even got bitten on my foot by an ant which made me recall Bangkok vividly.

As well as the usual suspects like Pad Thai and Green Curry, there were also BBQ’ed tofu balls and green apple salad, both of which sounded delicious. However, being the tedious and dull person that I am, I went for Thai Gren Curry and Papaya Salad, two meals done well, would surely be contenders for the last supper.

The food was ok, and I could ensure that there was no fish sauce had been used anywhere near the dish: It was as enigmatic a Thai meal as I’d find in London. It just made me crave Rosas in Soho more than anything else in the world.

I also ordered tea, which came in a wildly disconcerting orange hue. I had to mention it so I could include the picture and warn you. It tasted a little like it looked: like a rusty iron pipe had been submerged in milk.

Despite all this, the service was wonderful, and the location, super convenient.

Cross country by train…and, vegan food?

Please don’t get out your tiny violin and play for me, but it can be hard being a travel writer. I want so much to write what is already written about the train ride between New Orleans and LA here, in my blog, but I’d also like to possiy monetise the trip  in order to have the opportunity to go on another one in the near future. So I’m compromising slightly and writing about the highlights, with a vegan slant.

1. Being on a train lets you see everything and nothing. Clunking through the desert means that for a moment in time, you become part of the landscape as much as the cacti, scrublands, and odd railway siding.

2. The sunset limited (for that is the name of the train we were on) had showers. Nothing beats having a shower in the morning, feeling all spruce, and sprinting up to the observation car to watch the sun, hanging like a grapefruit, blossom it’s pink-orange light around the train in the Texan desert.

3. Watching the communities who had sprung up along the railroad. Travelling across the southern states really makes you realise how desperately poor so much of the U.S. is. Trailer parks with smashed out windows, and well kept but minuscule houses which almost always had children running around outside of them were a common theme. Otherwise, row upon row of trailers with steps up to the door and a beaten up car were the most ubiquitous living arrangement I saw across New Mexico, Texas, and Louisiana.

4. The changing landscape. This goes without saying, but from the lush, green, alligator filled bayous of Louisiana to the dusty deserts of New Mexico, watching the landscape change from mangrove to mesa was awesome.

5. The company. With the exception of the boring people who are taking the train because they can’t fit in plane seats, people who take the train in America seem to be far more interesting than those who haven’t. They have a knowledge of their world and country too, and a respect for the wealth of landscape or poverty of the towns that the train is passing through. The dining car is great at this – they make you sit with other couples so you share stories along the way.

6. The vegan food was not awesome, nor was the menu. With every meal, including, apparently breakfast (my grapefruit came with an enormous lettuce leaf) a side salad was served, and you could select whatever else you wanted off the menu including all non-alcoholic drinks for free. Options included steak, tilapia, and meatballs. For vegans, I had to order my own special meal which was always a rank, sticky, creamy “udon”, also inexplicably served with a lettuce leaf. If you ate eggs you could opt for the corn and black bean burger which was really good. That came with a generous helping of kettle chips, and a smile from Karol, the dining car attendant. It also came with many miniature bottles of wine, in an attempt to wash down the horrific taste of “udon”.

    

 

Why my salad “dazzled”, and other vom-worthy descriptors. Cafe Gratitude and graveyards, Los Angeles

My last trip to Cafe Gratitude was to the Berkeley branch, where the server asked me what I was grateful for when giving me a slice of cheesecake and wouldn’t go away until I’d given her an answer. (I think I fobbed her off with “the cheesecake?”). I like it a lot; the vegan food is exceptional, and unless you’re on the Paleo diet, chances are you won’t even notice there’s no meat-matter on the menu.

Just south of Melrose, I’d just spent an hour trekking from Vine/Hollywood to Hollywood forever cemetery. This sounds a lot more awful than it was, especially if I tell you I got my eyebrows waxed en-route. But Sam was bemoaning my lack of enthusiasm when it came to embracing the “glitz and glamour” of the city (correct), so after we walked along the grotty stretch of road that constitutes the Walk of Fame, I suggested a detour to the strangest cemetery I’ve ever been to. And I’ve been to a lot.

They’re peaceful, reflective places. This one looked more like a brochure for a housing estate, such was the grandeur of the tombs. As well as Johnny Ramone’s, there was also a tomb on an island on its own lake, and hundreds of metres of mausoleum space complete with a baby grand piano and casually strewn roses. It was all very melodramatic.

Added to the melodrama was a half finished grave, a set of seats, and a sun canopy, which gave the impression that the service had been abandoned mid-speech as the congregation suddenly realised the coffin had gone walkies.

Needless to say, being around so many dead people had made me famished, so I headed a few blocks south to cafe Gratitude, where the correct answer to any probing questions about my state of mind today would probably be “being alive”. However the server asked instead: “what have you seen today in a different light?”

This was taking philosophical questions to a level of conversation I wasn’t prepared to encourage pre-lunch, so I squinted at her until she left. I promptly ordered the caeser salad which was called something like “dazzling”. She looked a little confused when I asked for the “caeser”, until understanding dawned on her face and she said “oh you want to be dazzled.”

When I’d finished throwing up in my hand, I asked for water and a green smoothie called something like “impossible” or “magnanimous.”

This aside, the food at Cafe Gratitude is the best specifically vegan food I’ve eaten in London or the U.S, without doubt. It’s interesting, clever, beautiful balanced food. Sam had the “Yo soy fuerte”, which was a Mexican torta with chorizo tempeh, avocado, tomato, chipotle vegan mayo and lettuce, encased in ciabatta. It was incredible, as was the beet and carrot coleslaw which came with it. I had an enormous bite of it, and although the caeser was clever – Brazil nuts were used to make the fabulous Parmesan taste, and avocadoes and capers gave a creamy/tangy zing – after having spent 50 hours on a train I was ready for something eye-wateringly tasty.

The smoothie tasted (in an excellent way) like blitzed raw cookie dough even though it was made with kale and various other sprouting ingredients.

The table next to us talked about being on set with actors, and those opposite were talking about a screenplay. It was clear the type of people who visited – it was almost like being back at the Guardian, yoga mats and clean living included. I just wish that people wouldn’t assume that because I don’t want to be part of the mass slaughter of animals, that I want to open up about what I’m actually feeling when I’m about to order lunch. Because the answer is almost always going to be, uninspiringly, hungry.

Seed: vegan po’boys and beignets, N’awlins style

Waiting for the streetcar

“Garden based, Nola taste.” The tagline of Seed in New Orleans suggested that this restaurant was exactly what I was after: I craved vegan food, but I wanted to sample the true flavours of the south too. In short, I wanted a po’boy.

Although I turned up at Seed knowing exactly what I wanted to order (Tofu po’boy), I’d just been to Mothers with Sam so he could get his very own New Orleans traditional po’boy too. I’ve never eaten meat in my life, but watching him demolish his “Ferdi Special” with roast ham, beef, and jus to dunk, made me think nothing could be a match for that sandwich.

I toyed with getting a salad, or tofu “fried chicken” bites, or even a soup. But I knew I would cave, and order the po’boy; something my gluten sensitive insides would hate me for heretoafter. Our servers were both young and “hip” looking, and I saw next to a lady who lived and worked in New Orleans but who had never visited before. She order a two small starters, and then took half of each to go. Not sure why she bothered.

Pineapple ginger burst

The clientele was a mix of (young) ladies who lunch, business people, and one cheerful family with two young kids who were demolishing the plates of vegan beignets (wise).

I ordered the pineapple, almond butter, ginger and almond milk smoothie which tasted decadent and like having a pudding for start. Usually I’d opt for something healthier like a green goddess or something the colour of indigo, but I’m glad I had a “cake” drink because it was totally delicious, if a little bland.

The po’boy was hands down the largest sandwich I have ever seen in my entire life. Seriously. It was the length and breadth of my forearm, and crammed full of deep fried tofu pieces that tasted a little like cake. The sandwich came with lettuce, vegan mayo, and tomato, but I asked for extra avocado. There was a cauliflower pickle salad side which I upended into the sandwich.

I couldn’t fit it in my mouth, so I basically gnawed on the bread for a little while, hoping to make an inroad somewhere. Inevitably the entire contents of the sandwich spilled out over plate/table/leg/cleavage, so I covered my face in a napkin and just went for it.

The lady from New Orleans next to me was laughing, but she only finished half a starter so I don’t care.

Although I’d never eaten tofu like this, and I was having an enormous po’boy sandwich, it was ever so slightly bland. I feel as the restaurant held back with seasoning – both the ginger in the smoothie, and the mayo on the sandwich. It needed something else, like a sharp mustard, or a heavier garlic mayo. I added siracha which made it taste delicious, but turned it into a banh mi rather than a po’boy.

We ordered beignets to go, and several hours later (I am still stuffed from the po’boy), have polished them off, licking icing sugar off our fingers and chewing happily upon having found this excellent vegan beignet: my first doughnut in three years.

My first vegan hot dog: Dreamy Weenies, New Orleans

I’ve wanted to come to New Orleans for a long time for three reasons. The bourbon, the Ogden Museum of Art, and the eating.

  

And now, after a hairy Delta touch down from JFK where we almost took off again, I’m sat opposite Louis Armstrong Park, where jazz supposedly became a “thing”. There are water fountains, grass, and lots of statues of people playing trumpets, but I had my eye on Dreamy Weenies, a hot dog institution on the other side of Rampart Street. Given that we’d been travelling for over 30 hours, I figured it was only fair that we went someplace Sam could eat meat too. 

We’re spoilt for vegetarian food in London, but I’ve never had a vegan hot dog. Dreamy Weenies was voted by PETA as one of the top five places selling vegan hot dogs in the US, so it made perfect sense to head on in.

Located on the edge of the French Quarter, Dreamy’s is housed in a bright and airy building with huge windows and a cheerful ambience. The menu is extensive, and it’s one of those places you can go with your meat eating friends without much convincing.

There are four vegan sausage options, andouille, italian herb, falafel, and kielbasa: you can ask for a vegan bun too. Some of the toppings come free, like onions, relish, and mustard. Others you must pay for – I added chopped tomatoes and avocado, but it was tempted by the vegan chilli or thre creole curried vegetables. Always tempted by anything with creole flavouring – I’m a huge fan of paprika.

I decided I wanted to really try the sausage so kept it simple, and I’m glad I did.

  

Smothered in mustard, ketchup, with the sour tang of pickles and the herby sausage, my first hot dog was a success. My only quibble, and this is just personal taste, is that I just can’t get over the texture of quorn. It’s absolutely not my favourite. 

But for a sausage made of quorn, with great toppings, it was pretty tasty. 

A vegan’s homage to BBQ

Barbecue is big business in Texas. It’s so big that different barbecuing styles are split between North, South, East and West Texas – everyone claims that theirs is the best. In eastern Texas, where I am now, meat is cooked until it is falling off the bone, smoked over hickory wood and marinated in a beyond sweet tomato based sauce to counteract the slightly acrid smokiness.

Southern Texas style is a little different, where meat is slathered in a molasses sauce which makes the meat pretty moist. Either way, barbecue here is taken damn seriously. Even as a non-meat eater I was keen to visit a few traditional barbecue joints because this stuff is the cornerstone of Texan society.

Traditional sides to a Texan BBQ are fries or a baked potato, coleslaw, black beans and perhaps a gherkin or two. These sides obviously differ depending on where you go, but there’s certainly something fascinating about having the enormous tray brought out from the smokepit and being given enough food to fuel a small family for a weekend for $12.99.

Non-meat eaters traditionally don’t get much of a look in when it comes to BBQ unless you’re a massive fan of potato, but sometimes that’s ok. Sometimes it’s fine to just sit in a huge, wooden shack, the windows darkened by years of smoking, and breathe in the smell of hickory and oak. There’s the obligatory stuffed deer standing by the counter, and tables are ramshackle and the floors are uneven.

This isn’t even completely for effect. BBQ joints are the epitome of rough and ready. On every table is a roll of kitchen towel more than a foot tall for mopping up juices, sauces and spills. There is a constant stream of people kicking back the swing saloon doors to the bathroom with their elbows, covered in BBQ sauces and chipotle.

Out back is where the magic happens, so there’s often a woody aroma wafting around these BBQ shacks. And maybe that’s why I like them so much. They don’t smell like meat, but they smell of the forest; that autumn smokiness when you light a bonfire using wet wood.

What’s interesting about BBQ here is that some places are trying to make the barbecue a more welcoming place for everyone. I’m almost with the school of people who say “leave it well alone. If you want vegan food, don’t come to a BBQ joint”. But then I suppose I like the idea of going with friends who want to really enjoy the meat and being able to eat something other than shoestring onion rings (did I mention that these were beyond incredible?).

Places like the Woodshed Smokehouse in Dallas are throwing things on to the grill that isn’t just slabs of meat. Among the typical offerings of pulled pork, chopped beef and brisket, there are a plethora of vegan/vegetarian friendly options. How about crispy potatoes with aioli, or smoked Texan peanuts and chili salt? Smoked artichokes covered with lemon? Or try the three kale salad, guacamole, and smoked pepita? Dig into the arugula, pickled red onion, smoked pecans, with orange supremes salad instead. Or opt for the slow smoked cauliflower with mornay sauce. I love how these dishes sit on the menu at no expense to pure, traditional BBQ items. No grumbling meat eaters because they’ve been dragged somewhere that only serves salad, and no sad, po-faced veggies who have to nibble on a lettuce leaf while looking mournful at the rack of ribs baked in sticky sauce.

Heaven. But sadly too far to walk to from our flat on the Katy Trail, so it’s being appreciated from afar. >

Berkeley, SF, CA: The epicentre of vegan cuisine

Of course the real reason I’d schlepped up to San Francisco and the Bay Area on the train when I could have stayed in LA sunning myself was to check out the vegan restaurants. California is heaven for vegans. From the train station in LA where I perused “vegan meals” in the American equivalent of WH Smiths, to a corner shop in SF that sold salted caramel almond milk iced coffee, I don’t think there’s a better place to be if you’re keen to cut out the dairy.

Yeh, yeh London is great, but we’re stymied by our crap weather and lacklustre fresh fruit. There’s only so many times I want to eat stew before I scream. Here, salads are a meal in themselves. I’m sure I’ve raved about this before, but why shouldn’t they be a meal in themselves? In the UK, salads are watery bowls of romaine lettuce, cucumber and wet tomato. There might be an olive. Occasionally, there may even be a twist of lemon. But they are rarely interesting.  Even in restaurants like Pizza Express, the salad is made filling by the inclusion of dough sticks. Rarely do you eat a salad, leave the restaurant and think: “I MUST try that at home.”

But in California, they’re blessed with fresh fruit and vegetables-the type that make me happy anyway. Generous slices of avocado share a salad bowl with ruby red grapefruits drizzled with coriander dressing and liberally scattered with almonds. These are hearty meals and they’re delicious.

Anyway, I’m getting off the topic. It was my plan to locate some top notch vegan options while I was in the Bay Area, and, although I was on a budget and so couldn’t afford to eat out that often, I think I did my best.

Berkeley:

Cafe Gratitude

BLT at Cafe Gratitude

So these cafes can be found in LA and in SF. And excitingly, there’s also one in Berkeley. It was a hike-right at the northern end of Shattuck Avenue- but my god was it worth it. The premise of the cafe is that you remember to be grateful for everything in your life, something that could feel a bit hippy and strange if the food wasn’t so damn delicious. I ordered a BLT. This was a sandwich combination I’d never been able to eat before. It came with a mound of beautifully dressed salad. AT $13, it was more than I’d intended to pay, but the novelty won me over. There was lettuce, and there was tomato, yes. But the bacon itself was smoke roasted coconut flakes, which gave the sandwich a crunchy, chewy layer. There was also a thick layer of chipotle aioli, which sandwiched the bun together and added this incredible extra smokey flavour. I was also persuaded (easily) to buy a slice of raw vegan chocolate torte. This, at $8, I regretted. I forgot that I don’t really like raw cakes and the slice I’d got was the size of half my arm. I dumped it in my friend’s fridge and it lasted me for three days.

 

Cinnaholic

Cookie dough topped bun with vanilla frosting

Who knew that I would be able to find a cinnamon roll, complete with topping, soft scoop ice cream and frosting that was vegan? This place has them. Situated on Oxford Street, just opposite UC Berkeley Campus, Cinnaholic offers a standard cinnamon bun (but it’s far from standard, with a caramelised, crusty bottom layer and warm, melt in the mouth dough) complete with a choice of frosting (caramel, strawberry, anything) and physical topping. I got cookie dough (VEGAN COOKIE DOUGH-YOU HAVE NO IDEA!) but I could have opted for the far healthier fresh blackberries.

 

 

 

 

San Francisco

“Cheesey” Mexican food

Gracias Madre
Hands up, I didn’t actually go to this, but I salivated over the menu enough to at least have an appreciation of its wonderfulness. This Mexican restaurant is located in the heart of the mission, actually on Mission Street itself, a world away from the upmarket chic nature of neighbouring Valencia. Expect vegan tacos, salads and enchiladas, complete with vegan cheese and vegan sour creme. For desert, a slice of chocolate tart and ice cream or pear cobbler. Dreamy. I just wish that I hadn’t wasted that last food hole in my tummy having a fruit juice.

 

Herbivore

Mexican corn cake breakfast platter

I was a herbi-bore in San Francisco yesterday. I went here twice. Two different locations, granted, but I probably should have mixed things up a little. I just knew I could get coffee and a cake here, hence why I gravitated to the Valencia Street branch of the restaurant. At the Herbivore in Haight however, I treated myself to the full shebang. Brunch and a smoothie. Although the stack of pancakes tempted me, it was late enough in the morning for me to crave a more savoury brunch. I opted for the corn cakes, black beans, salsa, guacamole, sour cream and what they call Hash Browns. As in, not hash browns, but still pretty tasty. After a good heap of hot sauce, it was an amazing plate of food. Later that afternoon when I came back for tea and cake, I opted for a massive hunk of german chocolate cake and brewed coffee. The cake filling was crunchy, chewy caramel peanuts and thick chocolate frosting. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Amazing.

Menu at Herbivore