Meatless
By Miriam Wolf

Seitanic rituals

MAYBE I'M JUST complaining, but planning vegetarian meals is a lot harder than planning meat-based ones. If I remember correctly from my childhood, my mom merely pulled some hunk of meat, chicken, or fish from the freezer, then went about deciding what potatoes, vegetables, and salad would go best with it. Not me. Instead, I stand in front of the refrigerator letting all the cold air out while I ponder the stack of vegetables therein. Do we need to eat that bunch of kale tonight, or can I get another day out of it before it turns slimy? If I make that okra, will everyone just get up and leave the table without saying a word and head for Pancho Villa?

The problem is I just can't seem to find the "center of the plate" item all the other items pair with. I end up with hodgepodge meals that are all over the map, literally: Southern-style greens served with take-out pot stickers and an Italian salad of tomatoes, olive oil, and basil leaves.

Some days I can get around this by planning the meal around a pile of rice or pasta, but even non-Atkins devotees will tell you that doing that every day is not, perhaps, as healthy as it seemed to be 10 years ago. (Unless, of course, you're using exclusively brown rice and soy spaghetti, but that's another discussion.)

Thank goodness for seitan (or, as the bumper sticker spotted at World Vegetarian Day last week noted, "Praise Seitan"). Seitan, for the uninitiated, is made from wheat gluten – the protein component of wheat – by a process that gradually washes the starch and bran away until what is left is chewy, dare-I-say-meatlike gluten. The gluten is then boiled in a flavorful stock to become seitan. It's easy enough to make yourself, but who has time? Especially with so many different gluten products out there. Cruise the frozen and refrigerated cases at your local natural food stores and you'll come up with countless items, starting with Now and Zen's famous UnTurkey. Or step into an Asian grocery store and check out the cans and cans of various wheat meats in different sauces. Or order the gluten puff combination appetizer at Chinatown's Lucky Creation. The platter comes with four or five kinds of gluten – curry puffs, sweet and sour puffs, chewy-sweet barbecue pork nuggets, etc. – served room temperature and unadorned on a plate. Sounds weird, tastes great.

Seitan and other fake meats make it easier to get dinner on the table without having a nervous breakdown. "Chicken" nuggets on the menu? Serve 'em with mashed potatoes and sautéed broccoli. Can of gluten puff with mushrooms? Fire up the rice cooker and start slicing the stir-fry vegetables.

Some vegetarians eschew fake meat, thinking it too reminiscent of actual flesh. Sometimes it can be a bit too real. Who among us hasn't tasted a particularly vivid dish of vegetarian duck at Fountain Court and wondered Did they mix up my order? On the other hand, who could confuse the perfect rectangles of pink-and-white soy product for real bacon?

Other, more enlightened (than me) vegetarians ask: With a whole wide world of vegetables, grains, and beans, out there, why dine on ersatz meat? My only answer for that is, Because it's fun. Photorealist paintings, every-detail-correct period movies, vegetarian corn dogs – I love all that stuff. Fake meat taken to a high enough realm, say seitan-based chicken-fried "steak" or macaroni and cheese made with Annie's vegan spread and fried tofu dogs, becomes as much performance art as dinner.

Ready to worship seitan yet? On one block of Divisadero Street you can enjoy seitan in both upmarket and downmarket guises. All-vegan Herbivore feels very righteous. Fresh juices and smoothies accompany the global menu, which includes pad thai, ravioli, Vietnamese spring rolls, and more to the seitanic point, a vegetarian shawarma wrap. Stuffed with hummus, veggies, hot sauce, tahini, and strips of house-made seitan and served with a big pile of well-dressed organic greens, the shawarma wrap has an addictive flavor and satisfyingly chewy texture. The serene, designer interior and secluded garden seating in the back add to the healthy atmosphere.

Twenty steps away lies Jay's Cheesesteak. If you're not too picky about what's just been on the grill, you can enjoy a supersloppy (in a good way) seitan sandwich in several flavors, including pizza, barbecue, and mushroom. Jay's piles on the lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, grilled onions – perfect for those days when you need the heft of a burrito but aren't in the mood for rice and beans. Formica tables, cartoon-influenced art, and a busy counter make Jay's more populist setting a world away from Herbivore's rarified venue.

Oddly, branches of both Jay's Cheesesteak and Herbivore face off mere steps from one another on 21st and Valencia Streets as well. Conspiracy ... or coincidence?

Herbivore. 531 Divisadero (at Fell), S.F. (415) 885-7133. Mon.-Thurs., 11 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri., 11 a.m.-11 p.m.; Sat. 9 a.m.-11 p.m.; Sun. 9 a.m.-10 p.m.; 983 Valencia (at 21st St.), S.F. (415) 826-5657. Sun.-Thurs., 11 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 11 a.m.-11 p.m. Takeout available. Beer and wine. MasterCard, Visa. Wheelchair accessible.

Jay's Cheesesteak. 553 Divisadero (at Fell), S.F. (415) 771-5104. Daily, 11 a.m.-11 p.m.; 3285 21st St. (at Valencia), S.F. Daily, 11 a.m.-10 p.m. Takeout available. Beer and wine. Cash only. Wheelchair accessible.

E-mail Miriam Wolf at miriam@coolcopy.com.


October 22, 2003