It would be fair to say my first encounters with veganism were not experiences I am in a rush to repeat. My first skirmish being a vegan teenage boyfriend insisting on frying me up bubble-gum-pink coloured “facon” (the unappetising name given to fake bacon). I squirmed inside but was too filled with teenage angst to do anything but nervously eat it.
Other encounters with veganism came in the form of unseasoned, flavourless stews cooked up by activist friends. I don’t think “slop in a pot” was ever the formal name given to this particular dish but it feels like the correct one.
