Veganuary 2024: Enjoy the junk, but remember there’s more to life than chocolate and jackfruit.

One of my favourite times of year, January. When restaurants and shops alike are desperate for us to pop in and spend the few pennies rattling at the bottom of our purses. If you have anything left to spend, it’s one of the best times to do it. In recent years, Veganuary’s star has been on the rise, and with it, an explosion in new menu items… and some pretty unusual criticisms.

Back when I first gave up meat and dairy, the idea of veganism seemed to evoke a burlap wearing yogi, with an intentional focus on health – an obsession even. And you’d be forgiven for thinking that way. Products aimed at vegans to replace some of their mainstream counterparts (soya milk, mock meats, even dairy free yoghurts and cheeses) weren’t necessarily fortified with the nutrients vegans needed. Supplements were essential (and for many, still are). 

But as the years rolled on and McDonald’s turned the veggie burger into something indistinguishable from the real thing, and Cadbury brought milk chocolate (or is that m*lk?) back into our lives, more and more outlets, and certainly more people who frequent the comment section, seemed determined that these foods had become the main staple of a vegan’s diet. I ask myself if Cadbury’s Dairy Milk is the staple of all meat and dairy consumers – surely not. Or if the average British child gets all of their calories from Happy Meals. A new stigma has arrived. Vegan’s eat junk now. In fact, it’s all they eat.

Don’t get me wrong, the day Galaxy introduced their Vegan Cookie Crumble bar, I did have to give myself a stern talking to that this could very quickly get out of hand. But it never made me want to stop eating vegetables! Nor did it stop me from eating nuts, legumes, and the new generation of mock meats that have a better balance of lean protein and nutrients like B12. I’m never going to give up pasta, or roast dinners. Why would I? There’s so much to choose from now, why on earth would anyone, let alone a vegan limit themselves to only eating junk?

I think this lack of imagination when it comes to what the average person thinks of as the average vegan diet stems from something much simpler than we give it credit for. I don’t think there’s even necessarily a wilful attempt to brush away guilt (oh, I could never give up my health for a life of anaemia and brittle bones), but rather plain and simple overthinking. After all, whole grains, fruits, vegetables, legumes, these are the staples we all eat already. Regardless of whether we eat animal products. They are the base of most of our meals. 

Increasingly I see both vegans and meat eaters alike, obsess over which diet is more natural. An age-old logical fallacy, the appeal to nature. And I think so much of it comes from our very black and white view of processed food. Something loads of us eat loads of. And something newspapers and television love to make us feel bad about. And for good reason too, sometimes. But when the vegan diet is so unavoidably filled with fibre (something most Brits need a serious boost of), how much harm is processed food really doing us?

Well, that comes down to what you perceive as processed. ‘Natural’ is not always best. Especially when you’re in need of B12 to keep your body functioning the way it’s supposed to. I’m picking on B12 so much because it’s really, in my opinion, the biggest concern for vegans. Reality is, plenty of meat eaters experience B12 deficiency too. The reasons behind it are complex, both genetic and economic, as well as simply taste and preference.

It’s not hard to meet the rest of your needs through food though, but B12 previously always required a bit more effort if you’re not consuming animal products. But unless you’ve been living under a rock, you might have noticed fortification is becoming more common place. So much so, it’s not hard to imagine that supplementing essential nutrients for vegans might soon be a thing of the past. Everything from supermarket own brand plant milks are being boosted with calcium, B12 and even vitamin D. Dairy-free yoghurts and cheeses, to meatless ‘chicken’ fillets, the foods we’re eating for convenience, they’re all becoming sources of exactly what we need. 

Baked beans are another fascinating example of why not all things are processed equally. Beans are a great source of fibre, protein, and other essential nutrients. Just because they’re in a can with a label, doesn’t mean we need to fear them. Foods should be looked at in the context of the role they play in our whole diet. Nothing will give us everything we need, alone. No packet of Quorn, no carton of Alpro, and no man! 

This Veganuary, focus on the big picture. Swap your essentials (milk, protein, snacks) with an alternative you like. And this might mean trying some you don’t end up loving. Amp up everything else you already know you love: your favourite fruits and veggies, grains and legumes. Make peace with the fact nothing will give you the perfect identical experience to what you’ve given up, but it might bring you just enough flavour, texture, and pleasure, to make life on the other side seem a bit more doable than you thought it would be. 

Going home

Come September, it will be 8 years since I left home and moved to Cardiff. I suppose, for lots of people, when you’ve grown up in a small town, there is a tendency to feel as though so much of our personality is defined by how we adapt to life in bigger, busier places. We start to see ourselves as an evolution of who we once were. And there’s no wonder, especially if we’ve spent years trying to figure out how to make life go faster. Then, once we’re on the ride, all we’re doing is trying to hold on.

But, honestly, I think the only part of me that’s really changed is my threshold for inconvenience. I now know that I am truly spoiled by choice and my patience is ruined. I didn’t expect to find myself getting irrationally angry at shops and cafes closing at 5pm. That being said, in December, I discovered that Colwyn Bay now has Uber. Yes, that’s right, my parents can now order a takeaway or a taxi from an app. Though I’d certainly be surprised if they ever did.

Something I was always grateful for, living in North Wales, was that the town I grew up was relatively well served by public transport. Even if I am constantly shocked by how much more expensive a day ticket is. So, on my birthday, Rob and I got the train to Bangor. A city with a high street that gets more than it’s fair share of criticism. Though, if you’ve grown up in the area and watched shops slowly disappear from the city centre, only to relocate on retail parks on the outskirts of Caernarfon Road, it would be impossible not to feel as though the life is being slowly drained away from the town.

What I think punches above it’s weight, is Bangor’s independent retailers, keeping the city alive. Whenever I go home, I’m always itching to hop on the number 5 bus, or catch to train to go digging around Mudshark. The very shop where I bought my first ever record (Bjork’s Homogenic, if you must know), and continue to find just about anything I might be looking for. Spiritually, it reminds me of visiting Cob Records, just down the other end of the high street, when I was a child. An event so exciting that it had my parents and two brothers, all crammed into my Dad’s car with fresh batteries in our Walkmans.

Cob lives on in Porthmadog, but for a long time, the Bangor location was up there with Kavern Records in Llandudno as the one of the most reliable and well-stocked music retailers in North Wales. Mudshark is really all about the vinyl revival though. And their emphasis on speciality and local artists makes it all the more exciting. I’ve been going there since I was doing my A-Levels, back when they were crammed into their old spot, opposite the New Look (also still kicking), and I’m glad to see them still thriving.

What I wasn’t prepared for, was how easy it was to find somewhere that serves vegan food. Domu, previously an Irish pub, making their green facade seem doubly appropriate, was a real revelation. The cafe is run by husband and wife Dale (a founding member of The Smiths) and Svet (Classical musician and music teacher). Both take on the roles of Chef and front of house, and I must say, were exceptionally lovely on the Tuesday afternoon we visited. I had a pumpkin stew with rice, Rob had the chilli. Neither disappointed. With only a week and half of 2022 left, we were both in agreement as we left that this was easily our top meal of the year.

Even the oat lattes and chocolate tart we had to top it off were faultless. And the place was packed. We managed to grab the last available table and straight away Svet was over to explain that they still had ‘plenty of everything.’ Everything, as it happens, is made in batches in the morning and sold until it’s gone. All in the spirit of an Eastern European roadside cafe. So, I was glad we got there just after midday for an early lunch. I couldn’t quite believe the amount of cakes and pastries (savoury and sweet) that were on offer. Note: if you visit, the chocolate tart was somehow both the richest, and lightest thing I’ve ever eaten.

Eventually, we made our way onto the pier. Bangor Pier is one of my all time favourite places. A colleague of mine who studied in Bangor told me that she recently visited with her husband, all with the purpose of having a scone at the Pier Pavilion. A cafe that serves just about anything you could imagine (salads, baguettes, toasties, soup, cakes – all with vegan options). We had another two coffees, along with a slice of lemon cake to share (it was my birthday, after all).

Garth Pier juts out over the Menai Straits, and on a windy day, anything that isn’t bolted down has a good chance of being lost forever. But the little huts at the end are the perfect spot to catch your breath, tighten your scarf, and mentally prepare yourself for the return walk. While Llandudno ‘s Victorian Pier might be filled to capacity with things to do on a day out (arcades, fairground rides, tat shops galore and more chippies than a seagull could ever dream of), Garth Pier is more understated. It’s somewhere to stop for a coffee and unwind. And all for a suggested donation of 50p.

It took us a few attempts to work the card reader. In the end, the attendant suggested we try again on our way out, or if all else fails ‘just pay next time’. In the end, it thankfully went through. Saving me the guilt of having to leave the friendliest volunteer I’d ever met empty-handed. As Pier of the Year 2022, it was more than worth the £1 entry for both of us. And following a successful trial after the 2017 restoration, even dogs are welcome now.

Sure, everything might close on a Sunday. And yes, shops close earlier than I’m now accustomed to. But every visit reminds me of how inconsequential endless choice is when everything that is on offer is so beautiful. It’s not hard to find yourself imagining what life would be like popping out for a scone and a coffee on Saturday mornings. Or with all that endless space to walk the dog. I left for the train full, and with that ever present ache until we next return.

Downsizing

It’s been as good as a Sunday can get. We went to the shops, stocked up on spices (the only cupboard at my parents that can lack a bit of oumph). Rob let me pick everything I wanted for my birthday from Holland & Barrett. Yes, I know it’s strange to want all my gifts from there, but I just love the place. And I’ve just had the best roast dinner of my life. Home-cooked by my lovely Mum.

Carrots, brussel sprouts and vegan pigs in blankets, seasoned and on a roasting tray.

It’s the roast, by the way, that’s got me thinking. Thinking about roasts. And I’ve had a huge epiphany. Again, about roasts.

When you’re a vegan or a vegetarian, there’s a tendency, in my experience, to make up for an often underwhelming centre piece with as many side dishes as possible. For me, that’s filling the oven to the brim with as many different types of vegetable as possible, and roasting them until they’re golden and caramelised and perfect in every way. Except the thing about my roasts is, there’s always something that isn’t quite right. And now I know why.

Like many people, I have a tendency to put too much on my plate. Metaphorically and literally. So, when it comes to making a roast dinner, I’m always out of my element. I worry about timing everything perfectly. Don’t you know, everything needs to be ready at the same time? Even if I haven’t got the counter space to take everything out of the oven together.

Tenderstem brocoli in a frying pan with olive oil, garlic, chilli flakes and salt.

Stuffing is also a bit of a difficult topic for the non-meaties. We aren’t exactly stuffing anything, anywhere. So, what exactly are we trying to accomplish? Don’t even get me started on the redundancy of cooking stuffing to compliment a nut roast.

So, it’s time to simplify. Cut back on all of the unnecessary rubbish. If you’ve got one small oven and a kitchen so tiny it rivals that of a camper-van, perhaps it might be best to save yourself the hassle and downsize Sunday dinner.

Cut the carbs. One type of potato is enough. Roast it. Mash is for sausages and onion gravy. Pick two veg that take the same time to roast, and only peel what can fit alongside a frozen nut roast. They’re just not worth making yourself. Even if it’s delicious, Sunday is stressful enough without washing lentils and finely chopping carrots and onions.

Heat the bloody oil first. Everybody tells you it’s essential for crispy roasties. And I’ve never believed them. But here I am, listening, receiving, changing. Wack the pan on the hob for a few minutes, or if you’re too nervous, like me, do it in a frying pan and transfer to a roasting dish once you’ve given them a zhuzh.

Don’t underestimate sausage and mash. It’s a respectable dish.

Finally, if you’re going to go through the effort of making a vegan cauliflower cheese, cashew sauce and all, leave the broccoli for a weekday stir-fry. It’s just not worth the complication of different cooking times. Minimise the opportunity for something to go wrong. Focus on maximising pleasure. More of a good thing is more of a good thing. Cauliflower cheese is a sensual dish, don’t feel shamed into offsetting the pleasure with virtue by boiling peas or carrots.

I used to have a real problem with Sundays until I started working from home. The pressure to cram everything in, while somehow relaxing before the working week started all over again was too much. Now, I’m starting to appreciate the slower pace. Moving to a city, where everything doesn’t close at 4 also helps. Hell, a few months ago I make the mistake of walking down Bangor high street on a Sunday. Not a single shop open (besides my beloved Cafe Nero).

Christmas dinner is the exception. All bets are off.

Next year, I promise to make a real effort to learn to love a quiet Sunday. Maybe, I’ll even have a few without leaving the flat. Just pop an M&S nut roast in, put the telly on, and melt into the sofa. Recharging for another week of business as usual.

‘tis the season to be eating

December might have only just began, but I must confess, I’m already one box of mince pies into the Christmas spirit. I know, I know, starting early gets a lot of dirty looks and judgemental comments. BUT – I’ve gone all in this year. I even put the tree up on the 28th of November. It’s been such a wild year (THREE prime ministers and energy bills skyrocketing) that I have decided the only thing to soothe the anxiety of 2022 is to lean in, as far as physically possible, into the festivities.

I’ve gotten a lot done this year that I never thought possible. A job I love, finally lost the weight I’ve been trying to shift for years, found a love of – dare I say it – exercise. I’m even learning how to save some money, and being financially responsible has never been one of my strong points. But as the seasons change, and our days become increasingly shorter, twinkly lights and the smell of all-spice and orange rind is the only thing that can save me from gloom.

What I think people underestimate is how much the change affects us as we slip out of never ending daylight during the summer months, into the dark by 4:30 misery of winter. I think it’s why I’m so grateful towns up and down the country are slinging up the decorations earlier and earlier every year. Without them, we’d all be wandering around wondering if we’re just in the middle of history’s longest ever solar eclipse. Weren’t we all just having barbecues?

It might be a bit of a controversial take, but other than toast, I am not a fan of a hot breakfast. For me, even in winter, a cold breakfast just seems more gentle. I love porridge, but ever since learning that a pot of coconut yoghurt and some oat milk can make it just as creamy as 3 minutes in the microwave, I’ve no interest in eating it warm. Anyway, for me, winter is all about larger mugs of coffee, toast made with a farmhouse loaf, swapping margarine for butter, and slathering everything in strawberry jam.

I’m a huge fan of finely chopped salads during the warmer months, I’ll even happily swap out a cooked lunch for a large smoothie with some protein powder. But as soon as November comes around, pastries take centre stage. And rightfully so! Popping out for a long walk on the weekend and sitting in some warm, steamy cafe with an Oat Latte and a vegan croissant – yes, please!

It’s also the only time of year that I’m patient enough to even attempt baking. The summer months are somewhat of a hell for us. Our attic flat heats up to temperatures only rivalled by the reptile house at the zoo. But if there’s one thing I’ve mastered as a vegan, that I can comfortably come back to every year, it’s the sponge cake.

So I’ll leave you with this.

Biscoff Sponge Cake:

Starting with a standard Victoria sponge recipe:

300g of self-raising flour

175g of caster sugar

150g of dairy free margarine or vegetable oil.

300ml of oat milk (with 2 tbsp of lemon juice stirred in)

2 tsp of bicarb

While it’s baking, get going on the buttercream.

150g of dairy free margarine

100g of Biscoff spread

600g of icing sugar

Half a packet of Biscoff biscuits

It’s as simple as this:

Preheat your fan oven to 160C.

Add the lemon juice to the oat milk and set aside for 5 minutes. This will allow it to thicken to a consistency similar to buttermilk.

Combine all of the dry ingredients and the margarine (or oil). Add your liquid.

I split between two cake tins. I grease with oil using a paper towel and lay down a circle of baking paper to stop the cake from sticking. I don’t have much trust for non-stick tins – especially when baking.

Bake for 30-40 minutes. I know 10 mins is a big difference, but just trust me, vegan baking is a bit mysterious. Give it a prick with a sharp knife or toothpick after half an hour, and then at 5 minute intervals if it’s not quite done. Baking without dairy or eggs tends to be a lot wetter. As a result, it often takes longer than it’s animal-derived sister.

For the butter cream, combine all of the ingredients in a mixing bowl and mix as hard as you can without getting icing sugar everywhere. However, you might find it a lot easier if you’ve got a hand mixer. Margarine can vary between brands/recipes, so add a tablespoon of oat milk if needed.

Wait till the cake cools, add half the buttercream to the middle, and spread half on the top. Smash the biscuits in a sandwich bag with a rolling bin, and add the crumbles to the top to decorate.