On Vegania

I've sat down to answer one of the questions my recent time on the river posed. What is Eggless Vegan Light Canola Mayo and why does it exist? You may be wondering so let me elaborate a bit the circumstances giving rise to such an important question.

Time line: two days before fishing excursion. Plot: Unnamed friend taking said author out on the river for his birthday. Excitement rising by the minute. Phone call.

"What kind of mayo do you like? Regular or Miracle Whip? I'm at the store getting lunch for Thursday."

"Sweet. Miracle Whip. But don't go to any trouble on my account. I'll eat whatever."

Laughter. Laughter goes on a bit longer than should be expected.

"Alright. Thanks. See you Thursday." The line goes dead with a chuckle echoing into the vast darkness we call 3G network. Author is excited.

Timeline: 5 hours into fishing excursion. Plot: Arm is tired from catching so many gigantic trout. Stomach is cramping from hunger. Anchor boat and sit in snow bank after other partner pees on one dry spot available. Forgiveness is instantaneous as hunger rises and Guinness is served. Fixings are pulled out of cooler. Meat, cheese, bread, lettuce, tomato, mustard, and... Vegan Eggless Light Canola Mayo. Queue sound of vinyl record screeching to a stop.

I'm not sure how to deal with this blow to the very ideal's we espouse as Wendellians and human beings. First I had to find out what mayo is actually made of so I could understand intelligently the implications. It's phenomenal how little I know about the food I eat. It turns out Mayonnaise is made by slowly adding oil to an egg yolk, while whisking vigorously to disperse the oil. The magic is sucked from the room with one small click of man and one giant click for mankind. Thank you Wikipedia. You are my salvation and my hateful revelation.

Not only that but the most probable origin of mayonnaise is that the recipe was brought back to France from the town of Mahon in Minorca, an island in the Mediterranean, after Louis-François-Armand du Plessis de Richelieu's (what a name!) victory over the British at the city's port in 1756. According to this version, the sauce was originally known as salsa mahonesa (as it is still known on Minorca), later becoming mayonnaise as it was popularized by the French. The French Larousse Gastronomique 1961 suggests: "Mayonnaise, in our view, is a popular corruption of moyeunaise, derived from the very old French word moyeu, which means yolk of egg." The sauce may have been christened mayennaise after Charles de Lorraine, duke of Mayenne, because he took the time to finish his meal of chicken with cold sauce before being defeated in the Battle of Arques. Who knew a sauce could have such a violent history.

Miracle whip got its name from Charles Chapman, named after the machine he invented that could whip numerous unhealthy ingredients together in such a manner as to make them one grand gastronomical experiment. And then it sold millions upon millions of jars clogging arteries for generations to follow. A boring story but a wonderfully delicious punch line. Though Miracle Whip's actual ingredients are a secret they say it's kosher. That's a relief.

But Vegan Eggless Light Canola Mayo? Where the hell does that fit in with the history of all that is good and holy and gastronomically pleasing? No where that I can tell. And how do you make mayo (egg and oil) without eggs. Am I the only one that sees this as madness? I'll vouch that Miracle Whip may be as fine a representative of the industrial food complex as any but eggless mayo can't be to far behind. This is just wrong on so many levels that it doesn't surprise me the word Vegan is involved somehow. What, you may ask, is a Vegan?

In the immortal words of Alicia Silverstone,

"I just took a look at my dog and said, 'If I'm not willing to eat you, how can I continue to eat these other creatures that have the same desire to live, are just as funny, just as cute as my dogs?'"

Some statements empty my mind faster than a hydron collider's black hole. And then in the darkness a light glimmer's, a thought trickles in and I say, "Have you ever met a cow?" They're lives are marked, not so much with desire, but with mind numbing stupidity. They're not funny unless you consider mental retardation funny. And they're cute for about 3 months at which time they turn into a fat, snotty, cud chewing dullard. If we don't eat them then we might as well just let them go extinct because that's exactly what they'll do. I can't imagine them serving a different purpose for the world. This isn't a majestic herd of plains buffalo we're talking about here. I can just see the Hereford's grazing the plains in splendor as far as the eye can see. Or not. More like bleached bones as far as the eye can see and a bunch of really fat coyotes.

But I guess that's probably not the point and what do I really know about cows. I can't say I've raised one. I'd like to. To eat. I'll admit that the meat "industry" is something altogether different than I imagine it to be and its nature is slowly becoming apparent. That nature, not surprising, is destructive to us, to communities, to the environment and to the animals (in a way that can't really be justified by their death). I'll talk about this more later when I figure out what the hell I can do about it.

I pulled a dollop of vegania mayo from the jar with the knife. It reminded me, quite distinctly, of another animal byproduct called saliva. I held it there in limbo for a moment, hovering above my bread. The texture seemed sickly and transmuted. The sight of it made me uncomfortable. I know I shouldn't judge other people. I know I should work on my food ethics. I know I should be kind to those who take me to the river and feed me. It's something I'll work on and so I guess this post is a failure in that regard. I'll try and be positive from now on and change my attitude towards these things. They are the result of people trying to be better than they are and that should be recognized. In the meantime just pass the mustard.