Going Meat-free is Murder

Recently， I met a long-lost friend for an overdue dinner. When I entered the room， the table was absolutely groaning with meat. Big chunks， fine flakes， legs， thighs， bellies， pigs， chickens， cows， stewed， fried， grilled and all sorts of other permutations， and there， at the head of the table， my dear friend， beaming with delight at the fine feast he had ordered to welcome me back into his life.

Clearly this friend had forgotten something about me. I surveyed the table nervously， looking for something that hadn’t been bounding across the land a few days previously. Nothing Not even a morsel of seafood， which I am， as a naughty little pescetarian， able to eat. There was nothing to do about it， as there was nothing that I could eat， but remind him as gently as I could that I didn’t eat meat. His face fell. I felt terrible.

The vegetarian， or even the pescetarian， is still a rare bird in China. From Guangzhou right up to Xiahe， I have gotten strange looks when I have explained that no， I don’t actually want any meat in my dish. In McDonald’s， where as a hangover cure， I ordered a burger with no meat and extra pickles， the staff simply fell about laughing. Fair enough， I suppose.

Upon arrival in Shanghai so many， many moons ago， I was kind of prepared， after all， every Chinese restaurant I had ever patronized had been stacked floor-to-ceiling with live fish in tanks. I imagined that in China proper there would be diminutive pigsties and cow pens out front， allowing the discerning glutton to pick their own.

While this didn’t prove to be the case， I was still utterly unprepared for the snakes in baskets on the floor of my university’s attached hotel， or more precisely， its restaurant. Nor was I ready to face the live rabbits， chickens， cats and dogs all waiting obediently in cages outside restaurants in Guangzhou. Nor a pyramid of live turtles being slow-cooked in front of me. Those Cantonese！

One of my sympathetic colleagues came to the rescue， bearing what would become one of all-time-favourite treats shucai baozi veggiestuffed steamed buns which， along with vegetarian fried noodles， became my go-to staple. At the buffet， I turned a blind eye as the tongs that were used to pick up the greasy， saucy bits of meat were then re-used for my tofu.

And of course， I learned early on to never， ever ask what the sauce or broth for my “vegetarian”dishes was made from. I didn’t want to starve. One popular cafe on Shanghai’s Huaihai Road， catering more to the foreign palate， once offered me a “semi-vegetarian” risotto made with chicken stock. I informed my server that I’d rather not have known.

Sometimes， however， this “don’t ask， don’t tell”policy has been abandoned through my own skittishness. Having been assured a dish is meatfree， more often than not I will locate tiny specks of minced something-or-other concealed under mushrooms and greens. Usually， it’ll be pork， which Chinese chefs love for its versatility and range of flavors， honoring the pig by ensuring its presence in most every dish ever devised. When the servers are confronted about this or that piece of minced pork lurking in my dish， I am admonished for my histrionics. “Oh， it’s only a little bit of meat！”

Sometimes， the specks are fibrous， gelatinous chunks. On one occasion， while happily tucking into another favourite - homestyle tofu， hold the meat， I found the tofu was a little bit too... meaty. The tofu was actually chicken. I mentioned this to the waitress， adding that I had asked for no meat. I got the completely deadpan reply， “It’s not meat. It’s chicken.”

Of course， it could be worse. I could be a vegan. In my first year at the university， there was a vegan amongst the staff， so out and proud he sported a green ribbon tattoo.

Oh dear. After a few months， he was really beginning to look awful. Thinner， more pale and with big dark circles under his eyes. In the end， he had to start eating eggs just to get his strength up. Actually， a lack of strength is one of the major concerns I hear from the locals about my food choices. Apparently， I need meat to be healthy and grow. Hm. At 170cm and 65kg， I don’t think that’s really a problem.

However， I do give thanks for the Buddhists. Dotted around Shanghai are fantastic restaurants that are strictly vegetarian， some even going the whole vegan hog （pun intended）. Many don’t even serve dishes with garlic or onion because of their supposedly “stimulating” properties. That’s hardcore.

I once had a meat and alcohol-free birthday party at my favourite of these Buddhist hangouts， much to the horror of my friends I’d omitted all the hallmarks of a Chinese celebration bar the saccharine birthday cake！ But they survived. And， indeed， I took a certain amount of perverse pleasure in introducing them to my world one which didn’t include the pleasures of the flesh.