Back on January 1 of this year (as arbitrary a date as one can pick), I switched to a more or less raw diet. [For an interesting post about my interesting New Year's Day mountain climb, check this out]. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, this simply means that I no longer prepare food by cooking it. Raw foodists believe that heating food above 104 degrees (or 110, or 114, depending) destroys valuable enzymes and nutrients. Nutrition science seems to back up most raw food claims, but I’m more in the It-tastes-and-looks-good-and-makes-me-feel-dope Camp.
Breakfast has me downing about a pound of fruit (usually bananas, strawberries, blueberries, etc.) along with some peanut butter. That’s where the system breaks down – and it’s not even the afternoon! I don’t have the gumption or equipment to grind up my own peanut butter so I use the bulk stuff from Whole Foods. It’s super-cheap and tasty.
I snack throughout the day, usually on bananas, apples, and peppers. Lunch is a crazy sprout salad – courtesy of my home sprout lab, of course. Dinner is generally a BIG salad. Like two pounds big. Avocados, chard, spinach, cumin, tomatoes, BEETS (lots of beets), more apples and such. This stuff keeps me going.
Do I get even more guff than ever for being a raw vegan? Sure, but it’s not a big deal. I’ll be the first to admit, it’s an odd way to eat – like a caveperson without fire. Still, I’ve never been one to eat to the satisfaction of others. I eat the way I do because it tastes great and makes me feel awesome. Which begs the question – why do you eat what you eat?