The first time someone told me I wasn’t “really vegan,” I was mid-bite into something I probably shouldn’t have been eating. I can’t even remember what it was now – maybe cake at a celebration, maybe something grabbed in desperation at a gas station. What I do remember is the feeling: equal parts defiance and shame, which is never a good combination when you’re trying to enjoy food.
“You’re right,” I wanted to say. “I’m not.” But that wasn’t quite true either.
Here’s the thing I’ve learned: veganism isn’t a club with a bouncer at the door checking your credentials. At least, it shouldn’t be. Though I’ll admit, some corners of the vegan world have more than their share of that bouncer mentality – people who treat dietary choices like moral Olympics, complete with scorecards and judges holding up numbers.
I’ve been moving toward veganism for a while now, though the journey has been anything but straight. It’s more like a meandering path with occasional detours, a few U-turns, and at least one incident involving insanely tasty but not-at-all-good-for-you food that I don’t like to discuss.
At certain times I’m fudging the rules a bit to hone in on how to replicate something. Other times, I’m in between a rock and a hard place and giving myself a moment of grace. If you can learn to do the same, you too will become exponentially more successful with this pursuit.
A Taxonomy Nobody Asked For
When I started writing about this seriously, I realized nobody had bothered to map out the territory between “I ate a salad once” and “I’ve memorized which wines are filtered with fish bladders.” This seemed like an oversight. Americans love ranking things. We have levels for everything – frequent flier status, karate belts, security clearances. Why not this?
So I came up with five levels. Whether anyone needs five levels is debatable – three would probably do – but I already committed to five, so here we are.
Level One: Plant-Forward
This is where most people start, without even realizing they’re starting anything. You’re just eating more vegetables. Your plant-to-meat ratio is shifting. Maybe you’re cooking three vegetarian dinners a week, then four, then five. It feels good – lighter, cleaner, like you’re doing something right even if you can’t quite articulate what that something is.
It’s basically vegetarianism with better publicity, but who cares? You’re making an effort, which is more than a lot of people can say.
Level Two: Plant-Based Plus
Here’s where you make a quiet promise to yourself: mostly plants. You’re not militant about it. You don’t make speeches at dinner parties. But you’ve started reading ingredient lists, started choosing the vegetable option more often than not. You slip sometimes – at celebrations, on vacation, when you’re exhausted and convenience trumps conviction.
And that’s okay. Your best may not impress the people who run vegan Instagram accounts, but it’s still your best.
Level Three: Pragmatic Veganism
This is where I live most of the time, if I’m being honest. I cook vegan at home. I seek out vegan restaurants. I bring my own snacks when I travel. But I also live in the real world, where sometimes the only option is pasta with butter, where there’s one restaurant in town and they tried their best but there’s cheese on everything, where refusing food feels more unkind than eating it.
I do what I can. Some days that’s more than others.
Anyone who says they’ve never compromised their dietary principles has either never left their house or is lying.
Level Four: Dietary Veganism
Here’s where you’ve really committed. Your kitchen is clean – no dairy, no eggs, no honey. You’ve become fluent in the language of ingredient labels. You can spot whey powder from across a grocery aisle. You’ve learned which seemingly innocent foods contain mysterious animal derivatives, and you’re only moderately bitter about it.
These are the people who can tell you which brands of sugar are vegan and why. I don’t know how they remember all this. But God bless them, they’ve committed.
Level Five: Ethical Veganism
This is the full commitment: diet, clothing, cosmetics, everything. No animal products anywhere in your life. It’s admirable. It’s also, let’s be honest, exhausting. Some people live here happily and sustainably. Others visit and retreat. Neither choice makes you a better or worse person, though try telling that to the internet.
Why I Still Call This Vegan
People sometimes ask – usually people looking for a fight – why I call this vegan if I’m not absolutely, perfectly, 100% there all the time.
Because perfect is the enemy of good. Because “Blog About Trying to Eat Vegan Most of the Time Except When It’s Impractical or Impossible” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Because I’m aiming for something, even when I miss.
I think about labels differently now. They’re not certificates of achievement – they’re declarations of intent. There are loads of things we take on as identities, even though we routinely fall short of the goal. They describe not what we are every moment of every day, but what we’re trying to become. The direction we’re heading, even if we take the scenic route.
The recipes I share here are vegan – completely, uncompromisingly plant-based. The philosophy is more flexible. I figure that’s a fair trade. I’m here for anyone who wants to try this, at whatever level feels right, at whatever pace works for their actual life.
Because in the end, shouldn’t we make it easier for people to do good things? Shouldn’t we hold the door open instead of slamming it shut, checking credentials, keeping score?
I think we should. And if that’s not rigorous enough for the vegan police, well, they’re welcome to write their own manifesto. I’ll even read it, assuming it’s not too preachy.