I asked the assistant for her recommendation when I stopped in at thrive [small t] for a mid-afternoon lunch.
"Are you 100% raw?" she asked.
Apparently this is not only a vegan place. Its an almost-raw-vegan place!
"No" seemed the best answer.
"Then I recommend the [small 'a'] awaken."
I follow her recommendation and add a 'magenta love' juice. I am now sitting enjoying an utterly delicious bowl of steamed bhutanese red rice and quinoa tossed with marinated kale, avocado, toasted nori, marinated (raw) mushroom, grated carrot and sesame-ginger sauce. The juice (of beets, ginger, apples and cucumber) is going to make me pee pink for a week, but its worth it.
As you can see, my new Almost-Vegan lifestyle has led to me to discover new things in our neighborhood. Who knew we had an almost-raw restaurant a mile from our house? Who knew there was a vegan pizza parlor (where we whisper sweet Almost-vegan nothings wearing whisps of velvet).
Sorry, that was just an aside. I am often taken by the awkward ambience of words. You know, the exotic connotations of a parlor versus the reality of cheese and gluten. Another one I encountered recently is 'manure lagoon'. This term is a euphemism for a football field sized swimming pool of animal shit but evokes somewhere you sip cocktails out of green coconuts while wearing a bikini.
So, anyway. Getting into the vegetarian thing is very easy in Seattle. Plus, since I was a vegetarian for 6 years in my 20s (and a vegan for 2 years) this is not really very hard for me. Frost is still confused about the change. He said to me:
"Its strange. When I wouldn't eat meat then you wanted me to eat meat and now I like chicken nuggets you don't want me to eat meat!"
He speaks the truth. I am fickle. Sometimes. I'm not feeling fickle about this food though. Must return. Must feed children raw food.