My earliest memories of food are of family barbecues.
My late father grew up on a cattle ranch in Uruguay, where there are three times as many cows as people. It is one of the world's main consumers of beef per capita; Uruguayans eat an average of 200 pounds of meat a year. Meanwhile, my mom is from Kansas City, Missouri, famous for her slow-smoked barbecue.
So when I decided to switch to a plant-based diet in 2007, to say my parents and I disagreed was an understatement. I wasn't simply eliminating a food group from my diet, but an important aspect of my cultural identity.
I was born in California in 1989. But when I was three years old, my family moved to Uruguay. I have an early memory at the butcher shop where my grandmother placed two enormous cow tongues, one in each of my hands, and asked me which one felt heavier.
The language was for an asado, a cultural tradition started by the gauchos (Uruguayan cowboy ranchers) of roasting meat on a grill, which is an outdoor grill with a wood fire. These were times when, amidst the chatter of our friends and family, my father encouraged me to try bites of mysterious cuts of meat.
“I roasted them for you with love,” he said, leaving me no choice but to taste what he had given me. Only after taking a bite did he reveal to me what he had eaten. A brain, an intestine, a bull testicle.
When we moved to Kansas City about a year later, the barbecues were replaced by extensive Kansas City-style cookouts. My mother's family is large, so when we go out to eat, there are usually more than 20 of us. For as long as I can remember, we have been loyal to Arthur Bryant's, a barbecue place in downtown Kansas City. When I was a kid, I loved eating ribs dipped in sweet and spicy KC BBQ sauce made with molasses, tangy vinegar, and spicy chili powder along with my cousins.
When I was 17, I moved to Los Angeles to go to college. Up until that point in my life, eating meat wasn't something I questioned. Although I never really enjoyed chicken, turkey, or lamb, I ate red meat frequently. This delighted my father, who considered that this trait meant that I was a good Uruguayan. But despite enjoying red meat, I had no idea how to prepare it. My father was the grill guy and had the knowledge of how to select a cut, season it, and cook it.
The first time I went to the supermarket in Los Angeles, I was overwhelmed in the meat aisle. It was the summer of 2007 and the United States was on the brink of an economic crisis. The pieces of meat were expensive and the thought of handling them made me uneasy. So I decided not to buy any. That's how I stopped eating meat. Originally, it was not a decision based on morality, animal rights, environmental conservation, or optimal health; I just followed my instincts.
I soon discovered that my new dietary choice was a challenge my family needed to accept. Two months later, I flew home to surprise my sister for her 14th birthday. When I told my parents and sister that I wasn't going to eat meat, they were shocked: My mom had made fried chicken for dinner. They were not open to discussing the benefits of a plant-based diet. And their lack of support made me feel misunderstood. But I also decided that it wasn't their responsibility to cater to my dietary preferences. That night, I stuffed myself with salad and potatoes instead.
I later learned that there were many complicated factors at play in our exchange.
“In Latin culture, food is central to family and community gatherings,” says Vanessa Palomera, a Mexican-American therapist living in Dallas, Texas. “When someone becomes vegan, it can feel like a rejection of culture or family traditions, making it harder for others to accept.”
Food became a pressure point in our relationship. This was especially difficult to deal with as a newly independent adult, when I was striving to be seen. I was a little hesitant in those early years at family gatherings, especially at Arthur Bryant's, where I bowed to family pressure and ate a single BBQ rib plus a heaping plate of beans and French fries.
I often felt like my new diet was a hassle. On Thanksgiving Day I felt guilty for passing up the turkey that had been lovingly prepared as a way to celebrate gratitude. Once again I resorted to side dishes to satisfy myself. The hardest part was resisting my father, who sometimes told me how hard he had worked to buy steak for the family. I didn't know what else to do except give him a small bite to appease him.
But the older I got, the better I became at following my plant-based diet. At a family gathering, I attempted to create a vegan replica of my maternal great-grandmother's cheese ball: a sphere of cream cheese and ham. Everyone was surprised at how similar my vegan version was to the original, and it was meaningful to me to be able to eat something that honored my family's traditions.
My family members slowly began to accept my diet. At another gathering, when I was in my early 20s, I made avocado and black bean brownies. One of my aunts ate one bravely and with a smile. (Although they were certainly disgusting.) But just this small gesture made me feel valued. Years later, one of my cousins even stopped eating meat in my presence out of respect for my diet. These small gestures had a big impact.
“It is important that your diet is respected because your food choices reflect your values, beliefs, and personal choices,” Palomera told me. “When your community respects your diet, it creates a sense of support, inclusion and acceptance.”
Two years after giving up meat, I visited Uruguay. My family there couldn't understand my diet. In his opinion, eating meat is inherent to our way of life. His concern came from a place of love. Did I still consume enough protein? They asked. It was unpleasant to have them question my choices, but they weren't wrong about my protein intake. My vegan options there were extremely limited. I mainly ate French fries and a mixed salad (a salad of lettuce, tomato and onion). When I found eggless gnocchi I ordered them with chimichurri sauce.
This diet became unsustainable. And hunger prompted me to give him a bite of choripán here and a crumb sandwich there. He felt confused. These were my favorite dishes as a child and I still enjoyed the taste of them. At the same time, indulging made me feel horrible. What was he doing this for?
I started researching the principles that lead people to veganism and that's when I knew I couldn't support the detrimental impact of factory farms on the environment. I also wanted to live a life consistent with my belief that all animals have the right to live without being raised for human consumption.
Over the past 18 years of being plant-based, my reasoning for not eating any sentient beings has been influenced by the Buddhist, Hindu, and Jain philosophy of ahimsa, a belief system that teaches to live a nonviolent life and respect all others. living beings. Many people, myself included, believe that means abstaining from consuming animal products.
When I returned to Uruguay a decade later, Montevideo had a thriving vegan scene and I was finally able to enjoy plant-based versions of foods typically made with meat, such as empanadas, milanesas and even a chivito — the national dish of Uruguay usually made with mozzarella, steak, ham, bacon, and egg.
Having access to my cultural heritage in plant form was exciting and delicious. And it also helped my family participate in my diet. They met me at vegan restaurants, where they enjoyed trying our meat-free foods. Having culturally relevant vegan food, like vegan chorizos, made it easier to enjoy barbecues with my family—we could maintain the ritual without sacrificing my personal dietary choices.
I now understand how important that was to my mind, body and spirit. As Palomera says: “Food is linked to our identity, heritage and sense of belonging. “It can connect us to our roots.”
Nowadays, many of my family members make a point of seeking out vegan restaurants when we eat out and having plant-based food at home when I visit so they can cook. They love the dishes I prepare, both vegan Uruguayan food and others that I learned to prepare while traveling to more than 90 countries.
I no longer feel alienated from my culture. Through patience, curiosity, and commitment, I discovered that you can honor your heritage while staying true to your values—one delicious vegan goat at a time.
