 Marla: Whether it's Thanksgiving breathing it's hot turkey-scented breath down your shoulder or the annual company dinner at the ol' Surf and Turf, communal meals with omnivores often present the threat of hurt feelings, misunderstandings and emotional meltdowns for even the most sanguine of vegans. The way I look at it, you can either refuse to share meals with those who don't share your convictions, which is certainly an option though not always realistic, or you can set some unspoken boundaries for you and your dinnermates so as to reduce combative encounters.
I could think of no better expert to assist me in this piece than our esteemed columnist, vegan etiquette High Priestess Gwendolyn Good-Deed. In fact, I realized not too long into this endeavor that I should just hand the whole darn project over to her, as it became clear that she was in no need of my puny contributions. What resulted from my inquiry to our treasured advisor is what you see before you, in which Gwendolyn proves once again that she is a deity in her own right; after all who needs 10 commandments, when you can say it so efficiently in just four? Alas, stone tablets are hard to come by these days - and carving text onto them is a huge bother anyway - so these commandments have been issued electronically, which is less dramatic, though far more practical for the average Gwendolyn minion. So, friends, behold, rejoice and embrace, as we present:
 
Remember how mother scolded you for picking at scrapes on your elbows and knees? Well, besides mussying up your nice lace gloves and eyelet pinafores, there was a perfectly good reason for her reprimands: old injuries are not only made worse by repeated rupturings, but they never get a chance to heal if one is forever jabbing at them. This is an apt metaphor for the tendency to dwell on past disagreements, continually poking and scratching and fixating on at our old wounds to such a degree that we cause further harm to ourselves.
This commandment is especially applicable to family dining experiences, which can be stormy, as people linked through blood relation know each other's buttons, to use the pop psychology vernacular, and know how to push them. Family members also tend not to feel as strong an inclination to show the consideration they might with friends, so the good behavior one might expect in a group setting often flies out the proverbial window when dining with relations.
Father asks why you can't eat around the meat, hinting that you are a prima donna. Sister rejects your vegan pecan pie without so much as a nibble, as she crinkles her nose in bigoted disgust. Grandfather makes you feel like crawling under the table as he wonders out loud how on earth you will ever find another to settle down with if you "insist on following this crazy diet."
To avoid contributing to a heated and unfriendly environment, it is important that you understand the role you play in helping to create such a charged atmosphere. This calls for maturity and personal responsibility on your part. Certainly Ms. Good-Deed is not recommending that you pretend that an obvious situation doesn't exist, because if Great Uncle Solomon has asked you on the previous nine Thanksgiving meals if you won't eat just a little turkey to spare Great Aunt Beatrice's feelings, it's likely that he'll ask you a tenth time. What Ms. Good-Deed recommends is if you find another's shortcomings intolerable, you either find a way to avoid sharing a meal with this individual, or you find some way to make it tolerable. If you opt for the second choice, try to start out with a clean slate by accepting that you can't control another person; you can only be responsible for your actions, and how you let others affect you.
Gentle vegan, you can set the tone for a graceful dining by not dwelling on the past, but by living in the moment. So when Great Uncle Solomon asks you for the tenth year in a row if you wouldn't please eat turkey, you can say, "Why, Uncle Solomon, you must have forgotten that we've discussed this in the past. I don't eat turkey, but I will enjoy some of the other delicious food like the asparagus, the cranberry relish and the vegan pecan pie sister is currently crinkling her nose at. But thank you for asking!"
 
Are you tempted to refer to a dining companion's meal as a rotting animal corpse? Are you working on constructing a fort with napkin holders and strategically placed menus to block your view of another's plate in a not-so subtle fashion? Well, that's certainly your prerogative, gentle vegan, but if your goal is to have a non-combative dining experience, Ms. Good-Deed recommends that you refrain from such obvious provocations.
As one who has brought a chicken named Liberty as her guest to the Etiquette Advice Columnist's Annual Summer Barbecue on Amy Vanderbilt's tony estate, Ms. Good-Deed is not pretending to be above an amusing antic or two. That being said, Gwendolyn was fully aware that her choice of a dining companion would likely ruffle a few feathers, and not only those belonging to sweet Liberty
"Oh, how terribly rude," sniffed one ancient dowager, clutching her pearls in horror.
"Harrumph," chimed another, ditching her china plate as she fled for a place where she could eat a roasted bird without a live one watching. "My meal is ruined."
The point is that on this particular afternoon, Ms. Good-Deed wasn't harboring any illusions that her behavior would contribute to a graceful dining experience. She knew that she would be pushing the gilded envelope of good taste, and as such, she was prepared to be unpopular. Unless you intend to have the same reception, gentle vegan, it is recommended that you refrain from provoking such a response.
If you have decided to accept an invitation for a meal with others who do not share your views, it is implicit that you have accepted with the understanding that you will be treated with kindness and respect. If other parties are operating under other notions and feel fit to treat you with discourtesy and rudeness, it is perfectly justifiable for you to remove yourself from this situation. Enough said.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. In other words, although some people may have a tendency toward subterfuge and deceptive behavior, at times a perceived slight is indeed unitentional. Did the person who plans your office's annual dinner ask you again this year exactly what you can eat? Maybe he's not mocking you, but genuinely wants to make certain he understands. Did your mother bake the butter cookies you used to love when you were a child? Maybe she wasn't trying to tempt you but simply forgot. In any case, before commencing on a dressing down of offending parties, ask yourself these questions: Will such a confrontation improve the current situation? Will it improve future meetings? Will it open the flow of communication, or will it slam it shut? Would there be a better way of discussing your point of view? Finally, are you angry about the present situation, or is it a build-up of several frustrations?
If a misunderstanding arises that could easily be remedied with a simple explanation or shrugging of the shoulders, this is more conducive to a graceful dining experience than a confrontational shouting match, of course. This is not to say that there aren't times to be assertive and, yes, angry, but usually a dinner table is not such a place. To avoid such circumstances, Ms. Good-Deed recommends that you remain in perspective and be direct but courteous throughout the year.
So there you have it, gentle reader. All the above commandments should lend themselves toward graceful dining experiences throughout the year, especially if you remember Gwennie's final bit of wisdom: love thy omnivorous friends and family, for they know not what they do.
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