Vaya
Con Dios! A Quest for Vegan Food in Spain
By Steve
Best
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October 2007
| Like
the Americans, the Spaniards love their meat and dairy. Con mucho
gusto, they consume ducks, sheep, cattle, chicken, pork, and seafood.
Spain is an integral part of the Mediterranean cuisine touted for its taste,
variety, nutritional completeness, and health benefits. The Mediterranean
diet centers around wheat, rice and legumes, greens and vegetables, cheese
and yogurt, fish, meat, and eggs, garlic, olive oil, and fruit. It
is laced with delicious wines from the grapevines of fertile hills and
valleys. Although Spanish cuisine in particular is renowned for its
quality and variety, these delights are targeted for the palate of carnivores.
While European
Union countries are ahead of the United States in their treatment of farmed
animals and regulation of genetic engineering and agricultural chemicals,
Spain and its neighbors are far behind in the availability of vegan alternative
products. Having traveled throughout the European continent, I find
that eating vegan is the most difficult in Spain. With all its Indian
and Thai restaurants, London is one of the easiest places for a vegan to
eat. In France, good fruits and salads are abundant. In Italy, there
is always excellent pizza and pasta. Germany is rough, but major
cities like Berlin have world cuisine. In Spain, however, the vegan
meets the true test of principles.
Importantly,
there are a growing number of vegetarian restaurants in Spanish cities
such as Barcelona, Madrid, and Toledo, but they are still few and inconveniently
located. Throughout Spain, one finds the amalgam “bar-restaurant”
that is not much of either, and the “cafeteria” that is more like a bad
diner that serves liquor. Many places don’t even offer meals, but rather
the popular menu of “tapas” – a selection of snacks that are all
meat or seafood with the exception of bad patatas fritas (French
fries) that a high school cafeteria would be ashamed to serve, or patatas
bravas, fried potatoes drizzled with hot sauce. Not bad at first
try, but a little goes a long way.
If you find
ensalada
verde, the green salad, you might think you will luck out with some
bulky spinach or dark greens mixed with other fresh vegetables. Instead,
you will likely get chopped iceberg lettuce with a couple of tomato slices
and maybe an olive or two. One edible concoction you can sometimes
get is “tostada,” French bread with aceite (olive oil), and
some places might even throw on some tomate (tomato sauce) so that
you can fantasize you are eating gourmet pizza. You do sometimes find pizza
and pasta, but they suck and you may not be able to count the number of
times the server’s eyes roll when you ask for pizza sin queso.
Very few restaurants
serve fruit; for that, you have to find a produce market. One of
the best bets is vegetarian paella, a tasty baked vegetable and
rice dish served in a round skillet. Also relatively easy to get
is gazpacho, a cold tomato-based soup. One delicious cold
drink easily available is horchata, made of boiled almonds flavored
with sugar, cinnamon, and lemon. Blessedly, olive oil is a staple
in recipes and I quaffed gallons of it with stale rolls. But you
can forget about chips and salsa, for that great tradition is hecho
en Mexico.
To have any
luck at all ordering vegan, you need some Spanish as very few people in
the service industry or otherwise speak much English. You must commit
to memory, “Yo soy un/una vegetariano/a extremo/a.” You unavoidably
stigmatize yourself as an extremist, but “vegan” just doesn’t translate.
To elaborate, you must say, “No leche, no queso, y no mantequilla”
(butter). Despite repeating this mantra at least four times at an Indian
fast food joint in Madrid, I received a falafel platter with a sauce
obviously contaminated with egg-laced mayonnaise. “Senor,”
I cried, Dijo que nada de animal!” to which the clueless waiter
replied, “Pero es mayonnaise.” |
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I fled the restaurant
in disgust only to encounter yet another obstacle to gastronomic satisfaction
sure to frustrate the vegan gringo. It was 4 pm, and I had
already put in a long day of walking with nothing in me but a couple of
apples. I felt like the emaciated figure in Kafka’s short story “The
Hunger Artist.” I was roaring to eat, but it was siesta time!
Restaurants close from around 3-8 pm, or even later. Where Americans
like to dine around 6-7 pm, Spaniards don’t eat dinner until mid or late
evening. For hours I walked the streets aimlessly in search of at
least some more crappy pizza, but to no avail. Around 8 pm, I gave
up and settled for a bland falafel sandwich with ketchup at a Turkish
fast food dive.
Unlike Americans,
who intently close their eyes to the graphic details and images of slaughtering
animals for food, Spaniards do not blanch at the thought or sight of eating
a rotting corpse. Typical of bar-restaurants is the spectacle of
pig legs, from the top of the thigh to the bottom of the foot, hanging
behind the front counter. One of the grisly legs is ensnared in a cutting
block to slice pieces of flesh for the sandwiches or tapas.
The Spaniards apparently love ham, as one regularly passes ham specialty
shops called Museo de Jamon that, true to the name of “ham museum,”
look like a slaughterhouse inside and feature every imaginable way to dismember,
display, and consume a pig. If pig is not to the Spaniard’s taste,
there are always the seafood shops that feature a glass window of lobsters,
crabs, squid, and other ocean delights waiting for the human command to
boil them alive. Author Carol Adams writes about the “absent referent”
of animal bodies in food consumption in order to mask the reality of death
and suffering. While this may be true for Americans, the animal referent
is unflinchingly present for Spaniards enjoying menu delicacies such as
“blood pudding” and “brains.”
Like other
European peoples such as the Italians and French, Spaniards smoke and drink
copiously. But to my observations, Spaniards suffer far more obesity
than their continental counterparts. The many obese children and
adults I thought were American tourists in fact were natives who have joined
the unfortunate ranks of the Chinese, Japanese, Indians, and other cultures
in embracing the American-style diet high in animal fat and centered around
fast food. Needless to say, McDonalds, Burger King, Wendy’s, Kentucky
Fried Chicken, and other American fast food franchises litter the Spanish
landscape, both in large cities such as Barcelona and Madrid and in smaller
towns like Segovia.
Europe is hauntingly
beautiful in its preservation of an antiquity unknown to citizens of the
US. Europe has maintained its medieval towns and castles, and in
cities like Granada one can behold the stunning interplay of Renaissance
and Moorish architecture. In Rome, the visible traces of history
date back not only five or eight centuries, but 25, whereas in the US little
can endure the juggernaut of incessant development and the race for the
next strip mall.
But Europe
increasingly is ensnared between competing cultures of antiquity and modernity
where the beautiful architecture is the backdrop of a traffic jam, where
cell phones rudely ring in the cathedrals, and where American empires such
as McDonalds and the Gap encroach ever deeper into ancient geography and
cultures.
There are many
signs of hope, however. As noted, there seems to be a steady increase
of vegetarian cuisine and restaurants in Europe. More than in the
US, there is sensitivity among the politicians and general public about
the need to regulate factory farming. There is widespread opposition
to globalization, genetic engineering, and the use of chemicals in food,
as the US insists on peddling its poisons and Frankenfoods abroad.
As evident on sites such as World Animal.Net, there are many organizations
in Spain and other European countries attacking bullfighting and other
hideous forms of animal abuse.
So if you haven’t
been to Spain, go, it is gorgeous. But if you are a vegan, vaya
con Dios!
.
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