Confessions of a Fair-weather Vegan

I have a confession to make. I’m a wannabe vegan. Although I can never manage to commit myself to veganism - or vegetarianism, for that matter, despite a three-month stay in a veggie co-op in Boston - I yearn to frolic in a land free of flesh, dairy, eggs, and honey. I find restricted diets fascinating. There’s something about the discipline required to avoid cooked food, say, or eat in order to balance one’s yin and yang that piques my curiosity. I suppose I’m nothing more than a food voyeur. I may marvel at vegan and raw food blogs and love the detoxifying energy of ume, but when my stomach rumbles I answer to the higher power of Roasted Leg of Lamb. Maybe I’m a vegan relativist. Whatever; this is the twenty-first century, no one expects consistency. Except, of course - and here’s the problem - vegans.

So when the time came for a long-weekend brunch - and mini high-school reunion - I campaigned for Fressen, a vegan hotspot on Queen West. Sure, the place seemed hipster-y and even scenester-y (more on defining the difference between the two in another post), but what fake vegan doesn’t want to frequent a resto where a latte is automatically made with soymilk? I was all in.

Despite the rumours, Fressen isn’t cloyingly pretentious. Nifty prints on the walls, scuffed wooden tables - the place feels more like the basement of a friend’s hippie parents than a chichi hipster bar. (Wealthy North Toronto hippie parents, mind you, but hippie parents nonetheless). Weekend brunch - $9 for a generous portion of vegan grub from spelt waffles to avocado sandwiches to scrambled tofu - isn’t the worst deal around. Especially on Queen West. I’ll never understand why hipster playgrounds are so expensive. Aren’t hipsters supposed to be cultivating a starving artist aesthetic? What cutting-edge, avant-garde creatiste is going to cough up $5 for a glass of juice, even if it is freshly squeezed? But maybe that’s just me. My aesthetic is more of the “tightwad constantly-freezing dilettante” variety.

Roasted vegetable sandwich

Corn Fritter plate

More importantly, however, the food was actually quite tasty. My roasted vegetable sandwich was excellent, the sprouts and thin slices of sweet potato elevating it beyond standard lunchbox fare. When it comes to sandwiches, I’m of the opinion that the bread is paramount. Fressen’s multigrain bun was soft, seedy, and slightly sweet; delicious yeasty goodness. Everyone else at the table had the corn fritters, another respectable choice.

Trying on hats at Wildhagen

At Preloved

A nice start to a day spent trying on hats, complaining about the frigid wind, and checking out the Constructed Image exhibit at MOCCA. Those Sam Taylor-Wood self-portraits - what woman doesn’t want to float around in her underwear in a sunny loft? - are beautiful.

I came home and ate the final bite of my sandwich. (I always insist on doggy bags). Topped with a few slices of turkey and complemented but a steaming mug of milk, it was scrumptious.

-Andrea