For the past two weekends I was invited to two Iranian dinner parties. That’s kind of unusual for me. I don’t usually don’t hang out at Iranian gatherings with this frequency. Now, as everyone here probably knows, I’m a vegan. I’ve been a vegan for almost all of my adult life. And both of these families know it. In fact, the host of the first one of the two parties knows this fact very well. That’s because I invited them to an Indian vegan restaurant not too long ago for dinner, and we had a whole discussion there about veganism and the reason why we were there—which was the fact that—again—that I’m a vegan.

Back to the party. I was really looking forward to it. And in anticipation of all the processed rice carbs that I was going to intake that night, I even went for a ten mile run in the afternoon. So, I was really hungry. I arrive there. I see other guests as well, as is the norm with Iranian parties.  After a few drinks, the dinner arrives. My hosts tell me that they had the dinner catered by an Iranian chef. Sound great. I was looking forward to the professionally prepared Iranian food. But then I get to the dinner table after the hosts gleefully say “befarma’eed sham amadehast.” To my [empty stomach’s] shock, all I saw was meat. Meat everywhere. Three different kinds of kababs (koobideh, chicken and I think shami-kabab). There was also ghormeh sabzi with giant chunks of meat and a khorosh bademjoon with giant chunks of meat in it as well. My stomach churned at the sight and smell of all that meat, and in all honesty, I felt like throwing up.

Faced with the prospect of starvation for the rest of the night, I grabbed a couple of pieces of potato “tah-dig” and retreated to the corner of the room and began eating in total despair. But that’s not the best [or worst, depending on your point of view] part of the story. The best part is when the hostess saw me sitting in the corner eating my tah-dig.  She walks up to me with a very concerned look and says ”fagaht hameen?” [just this?] “You want me to get you something else? You can’t just be eating tah-dig? We have all this food.” I felt like saying “WTF lady? You called and texted me a million times making sure that I could attend this party. You know I’m a vegan. You throw a giant meat party. It’s as if no one in this house can eat a dish if it doesn’t have a dead animal’s carcass in it. And you’re surprised that I’m sitting in a corner eating two pieces of tah-dig?” But of course, I kept my cool and just said “well, all the stuff there has meat in it, and I don’t eat meat.” Which, to my astonishment, resulted in this weird response: “why don’t you just eat the bademjoon? Don’t eat the meat.” This time, I answered in English: “but that defeats the whole purpose of being a vegan, doesn’t it? Plus, the smell and taste of meat makes me want to throw up. You don’t want me to be throwing up now, do you?” I think she got the message and left me alone. So, I left the party early. Thank Nature for SubWay. There was one open on my way home. I stopped by and got myself a foot long veggie sandwich.

What’s wrong with people? Why couldn’t have they made a vegan ghormeh sabzi? I make it for myself all the time. One can even buy the Sadaf prepared vegan ghormeh sabzi? The local Iranian store is a mile from their home. In fact. I drive by their house to get to the local Iranian store, where I buy the Sadaf ghormeh sabzi and also the Sadaf vegan Ghimeh. Why invite me to begin with? Just don’t invite me. No hard feelings. I really don’t care.

Anyway, you may be wondering what happened at the second party? The answer: the same exact thing. Not a single vegan dish. All kababs and meat khoroshts. But I had smartened up. I had a huge bowl of pasta before I went to the second party. So, I didn’t mind having another piece of tah-dig—and some salad, this time around. I was full already. Lesson learned.