I thought it was going to be all kumbaya. I thought we’d all eat of the same fruit, share the same Manna, and sprout the same seed. Again…Imagine my surprise! when in fact, there are categories of raw, each filled with it’s own distinctions, classifications and (GASP!) commitment levels. As if it’s not enough to agree to oneself that this is the lifestyle he/she wants to lead…you have to be judged by your commitment level at the same time? True.
So, I learned that there are percentages that classify how raw a person is. Many claim 80%. Meaning the remaining 20 is filled with some other unholiness (I’m already dreaming of what my 40% will be–raosted sweet potatoes and cauliflower, wild mushrooms in a delicate broth).
There are also vegan-raw foodists, vegetarian-raw foodists, and then there’s the…wait for it…raw foodists. I sort of love being any kind of “foodists”, but really? I feel like I need letters after my name, or like one of those bracelets diabetics wear. I guess the classifications help on some level. Wait! I’m a pesqu…raw-foodist (that word again). This diet is forcing me to behave so pretentiously!
In light of my questionable classification, I was nervous about showing myself in a public restaurant, but had plans to go out for lunch. (Shockingly) What an amazing experience I had! The Black Olive, in Baltimore. I had the fortune of being able to speak with the Chef, who was totally hip to my foodist request that everything be prepared raw. He responded with letting me know they had just received a wild salmon delivery, and would I like for him to sashimi some on top of my avocado Greek salad. Would I??!!!
So in the midst of my newly found politically driven, foodist pretentions, I had the best lunch I’ve had in quite some time!
The Black Olive//814 South Bond Street Baltimore, MD 21231