Vegan Burger Quotes

This burger is so good, it’s stupid,” I burst out. “I thought California was supposed to be full of vegans sprinkling sprouts on everything.” “That’s at the restaurant across the street. You detox there, you come here when you want real food.” “I love you,” I said, stroking my burger like a kitten. “Me or the cheeseburger?” “I can no longer separate the two.

Once she'd loved my filet mignon, my carnivore inklings, but now she was a vegan princess, living off of beans. She'd given up the cheese and bacon, sworn off Burger King, and when I wouldn't do the same she gave me back my ring. I stood there by the romaine lettuce, feeling my heart pine. Wishing that this meatless beauty still would be all mine. She turned around to go to checkout, fifteen items or less. And I knew this was the last go-round, so this is what I said. ... "Don't you ever give me no rotten tomato, 'cause all I ever wanted was your sweet potato.

Very often, those who express concern about (or even interest in) the conditions in which farmed animals are raised are disregarded as sentimentalists. But it’s worth taking a step back to ask who is the sentimentalist and who is the realist. […] Two friends are ordering lunch. One says, “I’m in the mood for a burger,” and orders it. The other says “I’m in the mood for a burger,” but remembers that there are things more important to him than what he is the mood for at any given moment, and orders something else. Who is the sentimentalist?

This is the balancing act that vegans face: we either voice our objection and get labelled as extremist, militant, awkward or abnormal, or we stay silent and smile through the image of a cow having their throat cut that passes through our minds as we watch our loved ones bite into beef burgers. We either feel like we are betraying our morals out of fear of causing upset or find ourselves being labelled as preachy, forceful vegan extremists.

Out in the field, sitting on the grass, the hard-core omnivores are hunched around and over the cadaver of a creature they've courageously downed, greedily feasting on its flesh, while furtively looking around in all directions.. one of them has thrown in a few wilted sprigs of asparagus and a bucketful of ketchup to sweeten the deal. The vegetarians have caught an animal, chased her baby over to the omnivores, and are suckling from her nipples, while others feast on a basket of gathered birds eggs. The vegans have just ploughed through a mono crop of wheat, and soy and are enjoying their tofu burgers. Meanwhile those radical fruitarian extremists are in the cherry trees, looking on in wide-eyed bewilderment..

Two friends are ordering lunch. One says, 'I'm in the mood for a burger,' and orders it. The other says, 'I'm in the mood for a burger,' but remembers that there are things more important to him than what he is in the mood for at any given moment, and orders something else. Who is the sentimentalist?

Și cred că sunt într-un gând cu Relu, că asta știu de-alde turistache ăștia de vin pe la noi. Calea Victoriei și Cișmigiu. Să vină-n pula mea la un grătar în Sălăjan sau să-i alerge lumea de bani pe la capătu' lui 32, că acolo tot București e. Numai design scandinav și burgere vegane au în cap, vai pula lor.

Any you’d recommend? I wouldn’t mind a lobster roll.” “I’m vegan.” This word had become ubiquitous and absurdly trendy. She supposed there were a few young women with anorexia who kept to this diet, but otherwise it had to be lip service. “I have a theory, Clarke. Want to hear it? There are no male vegans. There are men who say they are to appear more sensitive to their girlfriends or anyone else they’re hoping to lure into bed with them. Once they’re on their own, they’re in a drive-through line at Burger King.” “McDonald’s,” he said.

Eleven years of being with a vegan had left her ravenous for some meat, but Mollie drew the line at Tim’s kangaroo burgers.

Are you a serious player, or just someone larking and larping around, and trying on different dresses as you eat your vegan pseudo-burgers – the meat without the meat, the thing without the thing? Citizens, do you want the revolution without the revolution? Well?

Grass has it tough,” Shad observed. “The buffalo trample it, eat most and cover the survivors in crap. It just supports my theory that all vegans are secret supporters of genocide.” “How do you figure?” Derek asked, mainly to pass the time. “Think about it: you get hundreds of burgers from one cow, but a salad will kill two or three plants, and a sprout sandwich will slaughter hundreds. People don’t become vegans for any other reason than the idea of mass slaughter. To be kosher animals have to be killed without trauma or pain, and the USDA rules likewise set standards for slaughterhouses. But who cares how much planets suffer? They get ripped apart under the most callous of conditions. Therefore vegans change their diet simply to inflict the maximum suffering and death upon a chosen population, and that meets the textbook definition of genocide.

Lentil-Mushroom Burgers For any reluctant vegan who worries that nothing will ever replace the taste or texture of a juicy beef patty, consider the lentil burger. It might not matter so much that lentils are an excellent source of protein, that they are one of the fastest-cooking legumes, or that they are consumed in large quantities all over Europe, Asia, and Africa (even Idaho!). What will impress you is how tender, juicy, and “meaty” they taste. I grew up grilling over campfires, and I know burgers. These are as delicious as they come. Sometimes I’ll even take a few patties with me on long training runs and races.        1 cup dried green lentils (2¼ cups cooked)      2¼ cups water      1 teaspoon dried parsley      ¼ teaspoon black pepper      3 garlic cloves, minced      1¼ cups finely chopped onion      ¾ cup finely chopped walnuts      2 cups fine bread crumbs (see Note)      ½ cup ground flax seed (flax seed meal)      3 cups finely chopped mushrooms   1½ cups destemmed, finely chopped kale, spinach, or winter greens      2 tablespoons coconut oil or olive oil      3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar      2 tablespoons Dijon mustard      2 tablespoons nutritional yeast      1 teaspoon sea salt      ½ teaspoon black pepper      ½ teaspoon paprika   In a small pot, bring the lentils, water, parsley, 1 garlic clove, and ¼ cup of the onion to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, partially covered, for 35 to 40 minutes, until the water is absorbed and the lentils are soft. While the lentils are cooking, combine the walnuts, bread crumbs, and flax seed in a bowl. Add the nutritional yeast, salt, pepper, and paprika and mix well. Sauté the remaining onion, remaining garlic, the mushrooms, and greens in the oil for 8 to 10 minutes, then set aside. Remove the lentils from the heat, add the vinegar and mustard, and mash with a potato masher or wooden spoon to a thick paste. In a large mixing bowl, combine the lentils, sautéed veggies, and bread crumb mixtures, and mix well. Cool in the refrigerator for 15 to 30 minutes or more. Using your hands, form burger patties to your desired size and place on waxed paper. Lightly fry in a seasoned skillet, broil, or grill until lightly browned and crisp, 3 to 5 minutes on each side. Extra uncooked patties can be frozen on wax paper in plastic bags or wrapped individually in aluminum foil, making for a quick dinner or wholesome burger for the next barbecue.   MAKES A DOZEN 4-INCH DIAMETER BURGERS   NOTE: To make the bread crumbs, you’ll need about half of a loaf of day-old bread (I use Ezekiel 4:9). Slice the bread, then tear or cut into 2- to 3-inch pieces and chop in a food processor for 1 to 2 minutes, until a fine crumb results. The walnuts can also be chopped in the food processor with the bread.  

In the 1980’s, vegetarianism was considered to be “radical” by most people; just a handful of restaurants, stores, and food companies catered to the community. PETA was promoting GO VEGETARIAN, Vegetarian Times was the go-to magazine for recipes and lifestyle information, and veggie burgers contained eggs and cheese. I don’t know why it took so long for Veganism to catch on, or why I didn’t make the connection, myself, and change sooner, but I guess in some weird way I was part of a wave of consciousness.

I’m Laurel,” said a lady who was putting out a serving of tea and snacks. “Hi, Laurie. I’m Ike.” “Laurel. Heard a lot about you, lately.” Wren sat. “You’ve been the lead story here since Thursday. Is sage okay?” She meant the tea. “I’m good with sage.” Laurel asked if he wanted something else to drink, but Ike demurred. “Are you a vegetarian?” “I am not.” Ike looked to Wren, thinking he might need to explain himself. “I do eat many vegetables. Swiss chard. Bok choy. Corn—on the cob or creamed. Kale.” “Radishes?” Wren asked. “You eat radishes?” “I never turn down radishes.” “Yams?” Pause. Pause. “Don’t like yams,” Ike confessed. He wondered if Wren Lane was a vegetarian or a vegan or some combination. If so, what would she think of his dietary practices? Was he suddenly a disappointment to her? New lead story: My Costar Eats Flesh! Was the dinner going to be all natural, garden grown, raw? “Forgive me my distaste of sweet potatoes, too.” “Squash? Squashes in general?” “A zucchini cut thin and well fried. I’m game.” “Well, tonight it’s build your own burger. Laurel can make a beet patty if you don’t want beef. Or turkey, as requested by Al.” “Can’t see beets replacing beef.” “They don’t!” Wren was vehement about that. It was then, right then, that Ike Clipper felt his place on the surface of the planet solidify, sensing an easing to the torque of Earth’s axis.

A recent consumer study shows that more than 90 percent of plant-based burger customers are neither vegan nor vegetarian. The broader market confirms the staying power of plant-based meat; the category grew 45 percent year-over-year in 2020. The growth curve is showing no signs of flattening. Beyond Meat’s new target: price parity with beef by 2024.

Wolf put a friendly arm around my shoulder. “Come on, B, let’s feed you. We got campfire specials tonight. Hotdogs, burgers, steaks, chicken . . . pretty much any meat you can think of, to be honest.” My stomach rumbled in gratitude, but I didn’t want to impose. “Oh, I shouldn’t stay. I’ve already taken up enough of your time—” “Nonsense, any friend of mine or Ames is family here at Fenrir. I’m gonna make you a huge plate, so I hope you’re hungry.” He paused a moment as we walked toward the fire. I actually kind of liked the feeling of his arm wrapped around my shoulder, though I knew it was a brotherly sort of touch. It was nice all the same. “You’re not . . . ,” he whispered, “vegetarian, are you?” We stopped outside the fire, catching the attention of several couples and a few ladies who eyed me with curiosity. I replied, “Oh, um . . . I’m vegan, actually.

I like mayo,” Anna said. “Sue me.” “I haven’t had mayo in years,” Bailey sighed. “Oh yeah,” I said. “Mayo isn’t exactly vegan, is it?” “No.” She shook her head. “Vegan mayo is pretty good though.” “I ate a garden burger once,” Anna said. “You did?” Bailey asked with surprise. “You never told me that.” “I ordered it on accident,” the redhead said. “How do you accidentally order a garden burger?” I asked with a raised brow. “I thought it just meant that there were a lot of veggies on it,” Anna chuckled. Bailey and I burst out laughing. “So how did you like it?” the blonde asked. “I didn’t,” the redhead said, and we all laughed once more.

You would be enraged if after attending a barbeque at a neighbors your host said he had served you a Beagle Burger. How is a dog different than a cow?