To be a rural vegan

Living in the middle of a cornfield is not always the easiest lifestyle for a vegan animal rights activist. There is no tofu at the nearest grocery store, and I’m pretty sure we’re known as “the crazy cat people who feed the barn cats”. Then again, the cow pastures and pig farms serve as daily reminders of why I became vegan.

People often think that the fresh produce in the rural midwest should be plentiful, but the fact is that the overwhelming majority of farms here grow livestock grain. We do have a local farmer’s market with 5-10 farmers coming to sell their wares each week. That’s become my saving grace, even if the farmers find it a little odd when I buy the entire case of vegetables and giddily run them back to my car.

I come from a Czech family that was heavy on the dumplings, roast pork, and saurkraut. Perhaps because of that, I love cooking hearty “real food” that sinks in your gut and warms you up… and probably clogs your arteries. I am working diligently to veganize some of those old Czech family recipes.

My husband and I have been vegetarian for 2 years, and vegan for 1. We’re both very involved in animal rights and trek into Chicago frequently to stuff ourselves at the Chicago Diner, under the guise of participating in some AR benefit. But for the most part, it’s the two of us in the middle of a cornfield, on our farm of misfit animals.