Today I met my friends Portia and Sean at a little vegan haunt in the trendy Fremont neighborhood of Seattle. It was a morning coffee date which, in my mind, means a chai tea latte paired with some sort of bread item. When I got to the joint (which, by the way, I did not suggest we go there, my yoga-teacher-friend Sean made that call). Anyway, when I got there, I found myself drooling behind the glass barrier that protected the freshly baked, hyper healthy, gluten free, hand crafted baked goods from said droolers. There were macaroons, cookies, and cakes; “Off limits before noon,” I told myself. There were fat thumbprints oozing with organic, naturally-sweetened jam, carrot muffins with certified gluten-free oats, and tea biscuits decorated with organic and local seasonal berries. With so many mouth watering options I had a difficult time choosing. Finally I opted for the small, grapefruit-sized loaf of bread made with organic brown rice and garbanzo bean flour. I was envisioning a warm slice slathered in butter and honey with plenty left over to share with my friends. Up at the register I was greeted by a friendly, fresh faced woman who totaled my bill for the loaf and chai tea at $11.75. I tucked my $5 bill back into my purse and dug out my debit card. “How much is the little loaf of bread?” I inquired. “$7.95,” she said, I sensed she was incensed from her tone. The loaf was on my side of the counter and on a plate which made changing my mind a little weird at that point. There were people in line behind me and I was feeling the pressure to just hand her my card—so I did. As she was running my plastic through the little debit machine I asked her, “Oh, can I get some butter, too?” “We don’t have butter here,” she replied, as if I had asked for a side of bloody flank steak.
With bread and tea in hand, I walked over to the table where my friends had been watching me ponder the treats behind the glass barrier. “Hey guys, want a bite of bread? “It looks like something that fell out of the sky,” said my friend Sean. “No thank you,” said Portia who was on her second bite of a wonderful looking carrot muffin.” I had order envy as I took a bite of the grainy bread like substance. I chewed it slowly waiting for the expensive-but-worth-it flavor to surprise me with something sweet or salty. No such luck, it tasted like it looked—hideous in the way that Taro root or Poi is hideous. “Who eats this stuff,” I asked a little too loudly, “I wouldn’t feed this to my enemy. My friend Sean said, “It’s Vegan?” As if that would explain why a person would pay nearly $9 (with tax) for a loaf of bread that weighed as much as my head and tasted like warm sponge. “Vegan-Schmegan,” I said, again a little too loudly, “I’ve been robbed and the vegan emperor has no taste buds!”
