Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, August 16, 1995 TAG: 9508160053
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By MAGGIE JACKSON ASSOCIATED PRESS
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
``That's very frustrating for me and my staff,'' says manager Rob Levin. ``But we don't kick them out. We get a real variety of customers these days.''
Mink-garbed diners may be a disturbing sight to purist vegetarians, who are animal defenders of old. But they're a sign of a sea change in vegetarian eating.
Spurred more by concerns for their health than pity for animals, many Americans are becoming part-time vegetarians, gobbling down vegetable brochettes or avocado burritos one day while enjoying their chops another.
``They're not coming out and saying I want to save Bambi,'' says Linda Gilbert, president of the Des Moines, Iowa-based research firm HealthFocus Inc. ``People are getting into it because they want to eat less fat.''
You can see the change on menus, on grocery shelves, at supper tables. Restaurants can't get away without offering meatless entrees. Supermarket sales of imitation meats are booming. Nearly a quarter of the new Nestle's Lean Cuisine frozen dinners in the last two years have been meatless.
The popularity of such food has become so great that PBS plans the first nationally broadcast vegetarian cooking show in December, with Mollie Katzen, author of such classics as the ``Moosewood Cookbook.''
``As recently as a couple of years ago, people at PBS were nervous about the show being vegetarian. They were saying, should we even use the v-word?'' she said in an interview. ``Now we're going to use it prominently!''
The revolution in American attitudes toward health and food played a big part in turning vegetarianism from a Cinderella of cuisines to a belle of the table.
Once, bland vegetarian products were found only in health food stores frequented by people seen by the rest of the population as, well, flaky. Moreover, vegetarian foods often depended on cheese and eggs, making them rich and fatty.
But the American obsession with getting fit, along with the discovery that fat is the enemy, transformed vegetarian eating - just at the time that a broader audience was discovering it.
Add to this the inspiration of ethnic cooking and the new availability of varied produce, and vegetarianism began to look downright tantalizing.
``It's not like the old days when you'd be eating lettuce and rice, rabbit food,'' says Patrick Downey, manager of Angelica's Kitchen, a trendy vegetarian restaurant in New York City's East Village.
Angelica's dishes up a variety of Asian-inspired meals ranging from vegetable sushi with lemon-ginger sauce to ``garden bowls'' of Japanese broth laden with seaweed, shiitake mushrooms, ginger and vegetables.
A few years ago, the restaurant was packed with purists. But today, Downey estimates 60 percent to 70 percent of his customers eat some meat. There's Bill Buell, for example.
Buell has been trying for two years to cut down on meat to cure his ulcers and improve his overall health.
``Sometimes I fall off the wagon,'' the bespectacled computer programmer admits as he nibbles on an after-dinner cookie. ``But I'd like to be a vegetarian as much as possible.''
Strict vegetarians are rare. Up to 2 million Americans - 1 percent of the population - completely abstain from meat, poultry or fish, according to a survey by the Baltimore-based Vegetarian Resource Group.
But per-capita annual consumption of red meat fell from 131.7 pounds in 1970 to 111.7 pounds in 1993. Meanwhile, consumption of poultry leaped from 33.8 pounds to 61.1 pounds and fish inched from 12 to 15 pounds, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.
Some 12 million Americans consider themselves vegetarian - even while many admit to eating some meat - a finding that underscores the growing appeal of part-time vegetarianism.
Some companies are cashing in on the trend.
Archer Daniels Midland Co. has sold a veggie burger under the Green Giant label nationally for a year, with results ``far beyond our expectations,'' says Larry Cunningham at ADM.
Linda McCartney, wife of the former Beatle, has sold 10 million frozen vegetarian meals - such as ``Mexican-style Stew With Spanish Rice'' - since introducing them in 10 U.S. test markets last year.
Sales of imitation meat or poultry products shot from $44 million in 1994 to nearly $65 million in 1995, in the years ending in March, according to the research firm A.C. Nielsen Inc.
``You don't find food categories that grow like that. Most grow 3 to 5 percent a year,'' says Don Ludemann, manager of strategy and brand development for Green Giant, a Pillsbury Co. brand.
Outside the home, Americans are seeking less meat as well.
While red meat is still the No. 1 item ordered, today 70 to 80 percent of restaurants offer meatless items as an entree, says Jeff Prince, senior director of the National Restaurant Association.
Even back in 1991, 20 percent of diners were likely to look for eateries that served vegetarian fare, says a Gallup poll commissioned by the association.
And the trend is growing, as diners discover menus featuring turnovers filled with corn, zucchini and asiago cheese (Greens Restaurant, San Francisco), jalapeno ravioli (Blind Faith Cafe) or terrine of artichoke and goat cheese (Charlie Trotter's, Chicago).
There are exceptions, of course. Although McDonald's offers meatless burgers in the Netherlands, it plans no such fare here. And Burger King tested veggie burgers at 38 outlets in 1993, without whopping success.
Still, a restaurant guide put out by the Vegetarian Journal has ballooned from 1,000 listings in 1990 to 2,000 today, including children's camps and adult resorts that offer meatless eating.
Those who've embraced vegetarianism fully view its new popularity with both amusement and relief. At the least, they are happy to shed the stigma their choice once carried.
Conrad Knudsen, a 60-year-old former restaurateur, became a vegetarian after a heart attack eight years ago. He converted under a program started by Dean Ornish, a California doctor with a national following.
``Now people accept it, but then people said, `You're crazy. Why didn't you just have a bypass?''' says Knudsen.
Then he laughs, ``It wouldn't hurt my feelings if somebody discovered prime rib wasn't bad for you.''
by CNB