Spiritually Vegan in France

I have returned home to Switzerland, after first confirming with Michael that the fog on Lake Geneva had lifted and it was safe to return. The first thing I did was make a big protein smoothie; I have to admit that I was getting concerned about the sufficiency of my protein intake over the last few days of my French travels. While I think I have the migrant population (in particular, the Lebanese and Moroccans) of southern France to thank for my lentil, couscous and quinoa haute cuisine, I knew I wasn't covering all my amino acid bases. Plus, there are only so many bean and rice dishes one can enjoy from plastic containers, eating with plastic cutlery. And not specific to the hardships of veganism but a general complaint about the French's neglect of the most important meal of the deal: if I had to look at one more sorry breakfast of white baguette and black coffee...

So I compensated with a very large pear and ginger smoothie using plain Vega powder this morning. I am rashoning my supplies of Vega for such possible deficit situations; I managed to smuggle in two tubs on returning from my last trip to Vancouver and I regard them with the reverence bestowed on a can of spam or a bag of sugar in 1940 London.

Before being whisked off by the TGV from Montpellier, I did have one fabulous sit-down, waited-upon and absolutely gratuity-worthy meal. Being a studenty town, I figured there would be at least one 'alternative' restaurant, which my inquiries at the tourist information office confirmed. Triptikulai is a tiny vegetarian restaurant tucked away in a narrow alley at the quieter end of the old town. The staff welcomed me like I was one of their own, in spite of me being the only person not toting tie-die in the room. After confirming that everyone was on the same page with what 'vegan' meant (and to my delight, the waiting staff freely used the straight-up English word 'vegan'), I left myself in the cook's hands. They served up a hearty plate of carrot, potato and almond curry over rice, and then brought out a chilled chocolate coconut soy mousse that could have induced a conversion experience in the most ardent milk-lover.

When the bill arrived, I had a spiritual experience of a different kind. At 21 euros for a vegetable curry, chocolate mousse and alcohol-free beer, I could only assume that I was paying either a novelty tax or a dumb tourist tax (I believe it to be the former; I found the staff of this restaurant to be too genuine for the latter). Looking around at my fellow diners, who all had a certain anti-establishment je-ne-sais-quoi, I couldn't begin to imagine what they do for a living that affords them such high-price meat-free dining. My guess is that they do their share of lunching on lentil salads from plastic containers, too.