all things food
Technology has been a game changer for vegan meats, yielding burgers and crumbles and sausage patties that are more realistic than ever before. But meat may not be the food that vegan and vegan-leaning eaters need most.
From the majority of people who…
Technology has been a game changer for vegan meats, yielding burgers and crumbles and sausage patties that are more realistic than ever before. But meat may not be the food that vegan and vegan-leaning eaters need most.
From the majority of people who learn I'm vegan, I hear something to the effect of: “I could give up meat, but I couldn't live without cheese.” I can relate. It’s what kept me from becoming vegan until I finally did, after years of vegetarianism, about thirteen years ago.
The New Veganism is a Food52 column by our favorite expert-on-all-things-produce: Gena Hamshaw. A writer, cookbook author, vegan recipe developer, and registered dietitian, Gena will be reporting on what’s up-and-coming in the plant-based world, sharin…
The New Veganism is a Food52 column by our favorite expert-on-all-things-produce: Gena Hamshaw. A writer, cookbook author, vegan recipe developer, and registered dietitian, Gena will be reporting on what's up-and-coming in the plant-based world, sharing with us all the new and wonderful ways we can work with vegetables.
Whenever I tell people I'm vegan, the first question I'm always asked is: “What is your stance on vegan meats that taste like, well, meat?”
Plant-Based Any Day is a column by our favorite expert-on-all-things-produce: Gena Hamshaw. A writer, cookbook author, vegan recipe developer, and registered dietitian, Gena will be reporting from the frontlines of the plant-based world, sharing with u…
Plant-Based Any Day is a column by our favorite expert-on-all-things-produce: Gena Hamshaw. A writer, cookbook author, vegan recipe developer, and registered dietitian, Gena will be reporting from the frontlines of the plant-based world, sharing with us all the new and wonderful ways we can work with vegetables.
It’s 1995, and I’m in eighth grade. Each morning I wake up, put my uniform on, and drag my stocking-clad tights into the kitchen for a toaster bagel. Once the bagel is ready, I trot over to the fridge and pull out a spray bottle of butter alternative (I can’t believe you can’t guess the name). And so, buttering commences: six or seven pumps of fluorescent yellow, salty, oily goodness. It soaks into my bagel and leaves a faint sheen on my plate.