From dailybaro.orangemedianetwork.com
By and
There are few things better than bacon. Sure, world peace and a life without fear have a good ring to them. But thick-cut maple smoked bacon with a peppered and lacy bark on its flank; you can’t beat that.
But loving bacon isn’t just about taste. It’s about comfort, certainty, the familiar sizzle of a world that makes sense. So when you decide to give that up — not for health, not for morals, but for something else entirely — you learn fast what you’re really made of.
In pursuit of something greater, people will forfeit pieces of themselves in order to reach their goal.
For instance, a while back, we went vegan.
No torrent of emotion nor grand epiphany led us to make the decision to forfeit the comforts of dairy, eggs and oh so delicious meat.
No, something much stronger led us to the righteous path of veganism. A bet.
While the complete contents of the bet are best left unstated, what should be known is that it was our responsibility, as a team of two, to remain vegan for an entire work week.
For the uninitiated, veganism is vegetarianism’s older, meaner brother. On top of barring the practitioner from meat, they must also omit any and all animal products from their diet, including eggs, dairy, honey and even in some cases, cane sugar.
Veganism to people like us, proud meat eaters and regulars of the dairy aisle, is a stark contrast to how we choose to live. Without proper stakes, the world in which we live without chicken, pork and beef is distant at best.
Yet somehow, the stakes presented themselves. With the promise of a dinner akin to a full hog suckling on the nectar of Eden, paid for in full by The Daily Barometer’s Sports Chief Nikolas Muñoz, veganism was a herculean challenge we couldn’t back down from.
Beyond chicken tenders sit in a warmer at the Cascadia Market in the International Living-Learning Center at Oregon State University on April 28. The market offers a variety of vegan food options on the go. Kenzie Whaley
Despite Oregon State University’s sprawling and readily available vegan menu found on their website, we, as newcomers to the vegan space, decided to take to the creed as our forefathers had. Without any research whatsoever.
For myself, Fox Perez, this lack of due diligence toward doing the homework led me down a path not unlike historical exemplars such as the Buddha or Jesus of Nazareth. That being the ancient and mysterious art of fasting.
Meanwhile, Roy Keller, he took to his own forefathers’ traditions of pillaging and raiding. But have no fear, citizens of Corvallis, Oregon! You all can rest easy knowing that his rampant skullduggery was strictly contained to the wandering of Ninth Street’s Trader Joe’s.
Between some nutritional deficit-induced mania and moving through TJ’s like there was blood in the water, we caught glimpses of the world beyond. One in which we bathe in bacon, sing amongst steak and delight in dancing drumsticks.
For Keller, this delusion of the beyond sent him into thoughts of the electric chair. Meanwhile, for Perez, this mere psychosis led him to the mountaintops of the central steppes of Asia, in which he no longer yearned for food of any kind, merely taking satisfaction and pleasure in the scents that pranced around his nostrils and tickled the neurons in his brain.
Crunchy peanut butter is great, but it can only get you so far.
Weeks later, from the comfort of a leather armchair with a belly full of very non-vegan dinner, we can say with confidence that being vegan here at OSU can be really easy or it can be pretty dam hard. The gossamer-thin line between the two lies only in your own resourcefulness.
Luckily for us, our own scrappy nature, alongside invaluable vegan coworkers — KBVR-FM’s Taija Riley and Evangeline Jorjorian — helped us navigate the largely joyless sprawling wasteland that is veganism.
If you, dear reader, are considering entering the vegan space yourself here at OSU, here’s a word to the wise: if when you walk into your local Subway they ask “the usual?” If your butcher knows you by name, if you have to groan every time you sit down and stand up, consider vegetarianism first.
If, for whatever reason, you can’t help yourself and you long for a life without the modern wonders of cheese or butter, we highly advise you to take a look at the University Housing & Dining Services website.
But here’s the rub: having options on a webpage isn’t the same as having options on your plate. During our week of veganism, we found that OSU’s dining halls offer just enough plant-based fare to keep you alive, but rarely enough to keep you happy. Think cold, sad refrigerators tucked toward the back of Every Bean’s a Good Bean or Bites with a near-empty supply of instant curry and what could be chalked up to mystery meat tortas.
So while veganism is technically available at OSU, we wouldn’t recommend it to anyone who doesn’t have a bet riding on it. The dining halls lean hard into meat-and-dairy comfort food, and the vegan alternatives often feel like an afterthought: under-seasoned, under-stocked and under-loved.
Unless you enjoy interrogating every dining hall employee about hidden butter or walking out with a bowl of plain rice and steamed broccoli, you’re better off sticking with vegetarianism — or just accept the fact that cheese and cold cuts make the rigor of collegiate life far away from your hometown family and friends just a bit more bearable.






