Many Shades of Vegetarianism

I get a splendid variety of guests at our homestay – a veritable parade of humanity, each arriving with their own luggage, their own opinions, and, most curiously, their own diet regimes. The way people eat could fill volumes, and believe me, it has. It is not merely that some dislike coriander or detest mustard seeds; oh no, the world of food habits is a labyrinth worthy of an epic quest.

Take the vegetarians, for instance – and I have encountered more flavours of vegetarianism than there are varieties of dishes at a wedding buffet in cities.

The most common, and practically household-standard variety, is the vegetarian who eats eggs. These folks are of the opinion that an egg is as vegetarian as a green salad. Some of them abstain from eggs on certain days, Tuesday being a popular choice, only to wolf them down with gusto on the others. Some disdain eggs outright, but if eggs have sneaked into cakes or desserts, well, they’re willing to look the other way as long as it’s not too obvious.

Then you have the egg purists. These gentlemen and ladies will insist that poultry farm eggs are fine. After all, they are unfertilised and therefore vegetarian in the eyes of Providence, but free-range or farm-raised eggs are a scandalous no-no, being fertile and therefore morally ambiguous. They eat eggs provided it hasn’t been given an existential crisis by being given an opportunity of getting fertilised. Meanwhile, some adventurous souls are happy to consume gravies that once hosted eggs, such as in egg curry or shakshuka, while discreetly lifting only the sauce with their roti or bread. Some of these brave souls even sample gravies from meat-based dishes, reasoning that “the essence is vegetable enough.”

Next come the proper day-based vegetarians, whose commitment waxes and wanes with the day of the calendar. Today they’re vegetarian, tomorrow a carnivore, eating the choicest of meats. For them, midnight is the great divide, a fork in the road. At 11:59 PM they may be dining on paneer, but at 12:01 AM, behold! The steak appears. Discipline is impeccable, timing immaculate. They only need to remember which day of the week it is (similar to the ones eating or avoiding eggs based on weekdays)

There’s also the curious breed who consider fish, prawns, and other sea creatures as vegetables from an alternative dimension. “After all,” they say, “fish are practically plants that swim.” Interestingly, this is a concept that I have seen with many of our Eurpoean vegetarian guests.

A subgroup, purists with rigid principles, refuses onions and garlic, the culinary villains of certain traditions. Their kitchens are fragrant with herbs, but bereft of those aromatic delights that make life taste divine. A lot of staunch Hindus follow this.

Then we have those flirting with veganism – eschewing not only animal flesh but all by-products thereof. Milk, butter, curds, ghee – all banished. Some, in their zeal or religious beliefs, also shun onions and garlic. Others, a tad more liberal, allow these pungent alliums but keep away from dairy.

And here’s one that will make you raise an eyebrow: vegetarians who refuse anything grown under the soil. Potatoes, carrots, radish – out! “If it’s been buried, it’s best left unconsumed,” they say. I have seen a lot of Jains and people with similar religious inclinations do so. But, they don’t mind Ginger and Turmeric, which I am yet to understand.

Then there are the fungus-phobes – vegetarians who avoid mushrooms, yet cheerfully lap up yeast-based breads and bakery items.

When it comes to baked goods, I’ve met vegetarians who cheerfully tuck into breads and cakes but wrinkle their noses at croissants and patties. A relative once blamed it on the egg-based glaze, but the mystery deepens, many of them avoid the same items even when they’re not glazed, as if the mere possibility of eggs lurking inside is enough to send them running!

Some prefer to sidestep eggplant (brinjal), but have no qualms about other nightshade vegetables like tomatoes or peppers. The list is long of such variations and I am yet to understand the details.

And now, the newest species to grace this botanical menagerie: the gluten-free enthusiasts. A handful, of course, suffer genuine intolerance, but the rest are swept up in the winds of social media fads. If an influencer sneezes at a slice of bread, they too will banish gluten with the fervour of a zealot exorcising a ghost. These are gluten-free kind of vegetarians. (Though I have met some gluten-free non-vegetarians too, but usually the gluten free group are non meat eaters)

I have a neighbour who’s a vegetarian—he consumes milk but not eggs, yet he admits that if meat were the only option, he wouldn’t hesitate to eat it. Principles, it seems, have their practical limits!

Interestingly, some vegetarians consider alcohol and kanji as non-vegetarian because they are fermented, yet curd and exotic kimchi are perfectly acceptable. It’s a bit puzzling to me, but who am I to question someone else’s philosophy?

Let us not forget the raw foodists, the fruitarians, the dairy-only devotees, and the intermittent fasters whose philosophy revolves around the precise timing of digestion cycles and cosmic alignment. Every meal is a manifesto, every plate a declaration of belief.

The quirks around cooking methods are equally amusing. Some won’t eat from utensils that may once have cradled a non-vegetarian dish, while others won’t even sit at a table where someone might be quietly enjoying a boiled egg nearby – as if a stolen glance alone could spoil their meal!

Then there’s the whole idea of a ‘pure vegetarian’ meal, which always leaves me scratching my head. To me, a meal is either vegetarian or it isn’t, but apparently, it depends on which philosophy you follow. So what exactly makes an exclusively vegetarian meal ‘pure’? The definitions seem to multiply faster than weeds in the garden!

In the end, the food philosophies are as varied as the people who follow them. It’s a delight to watch this kaleidoscope of habits and quirks unfold at the table. I stand there, fork in hand, ready with a smile, for every diet is a story – and every guest, a chapter in the grand, endlessly amusing cookbook of life.

While I may not always share the same food choices, I wholeheartedly respect them and am always happy to serve whatever brings my guests comfort and joy.

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