Stupid things I do

Today I walked into a vegetarian takeout place and ordered the "nutmeat patty with sauce" expecting it to be like some sort of veggie burger. It was not, and I'm hard pressed to imagine acts I've regretted more instantaneously. Why'd I do it? Why such a gratuitous act of stupidity from a devoted omnivore? Well, I have a history of vegetarian sympathies, and not only because I've dated at least two.

My freshman year in college I lived in a dorm that was, for a variety of reasons, very popular with the large vegetarian/vegan coalition. We always had at least one, and sometimes several, meatless options. We also had soy milk. I always was afraid of it, until the following year when I worked in the cafeteria and a cute, vegetarian co-worker convinced me to try it.

It was good, actually. Milky, only a little chalky and with a nice buttery, nutty taste to it. Also, it came in a vanilla flavor that was great with cereal. Score one for the veggie kids. I still stuck with the regular moo juice at home, though.

But that motivated me to try veggie burgers. It helped that they were cheap and easy to microwave after class or a night of drinking that didn't end at the Backroom or Jug. And you know what? They were pretty damn good, too.

Then I had another moment: It was a cookout at then-girlfriend's house. After helping position and tap the keg, I was on grill duty. She produced a box of frozen meat pucks with some sort of horrible pattern on them, presumably from some sort of machine that rolled out a uniform mass of pulpy cow. Thankfully, by the time they were ready, I was drunk enough not to think about that anymore. But I stuck with fresh afterward.

Later on, another girlfriend, this one vegetarian introduced me to the joys of meatless chicken nuggets. They were a revelation. I don't keep in touch with her, but I still get those on a semi-regular basis. I'd be hard pressed to think of a better at-home late-night drunk snack that's impossible to fuck up. I'm not the only omnivore who feels this way, I'm sure.

So with all this vegetarian understanding as a history, I found myself standing on 23rd street today, not ready to go into Wendy's, fearful of Subway and not up for an extended exploration. So I walked into this bright, well-lit place right across from Madison Square Park and looked around.

There were coolers filled with organic orange juice, mineral water and coconut water, all house-brand. There was a giant write-n-wipe menu. There was a wire shelving unit stacked with flyers for yoga and animal-rights stuff.

There was nothing I could see that would be used to apply heat to food.

I was definitely out of my element. The place was filled with exactly the stereotypes you expect: guys who make Andy Dick look like Joe Rogan and women with mousy visages and giant, cloth handbags. I felt out of place. But I stuck it out and found something that looked worthwhile.

I collected my order from an obviously terrified counter staff and adjourned to the park. I sat down. I applied fork to raw-food patty, making sure to include sauce. I took a bite, and remembered to keep my expectations low.

My measured reaction: Definitely some nuts in there, but there was a definite note of bitterness or astringency, along with some apricot flavor. Thick texture.

Of course, that's the neutral, polite view. My actual reaction was "Trail mix. If someone had chewed it for me. After gargling with witch hazel."

I deposited the remainder of my patty into a trash can, and walked around the park, reeling.

All my years of understanding the vegetarian kids, all those grilled cheeses with hummus down at the Halfass in college, all those boca burgers, anyone who restricted their diet for non-religious or medical reasons ... I thought I understood you, even if I couldn't join you.

But this felt like a betrayal, even though that's not far. I know raw-foodism or whatever is well beyond being vegetarian or even vegan. But I can't help it. I feel like a political moderate who can no longer caucus with the extremists. I don't know what to think.

I did, however, know what to do. Shake Shack was right there ... and there was no line.