I’ve been vegan for 18 years. When I went vegan there were rudimentary cheese alternatives. This didn’t both me as I would eat cheese made from potatoes whilst singing, “Potato cheese, potato cheese, cheese made from… potatoes!” Others tasted it and screwed up their face whilst I chomped down on a cheese and Marmite sandwich. Or a cheese and pickle sandwich. Oh salty joy! Then the novelty wore off. Vegan cheese is expensive. And I returned to my first loves, peanut butter and hummus. Although not together. I tried this once and it wasn’t great.
Many years on, and veganism has risen. There are some vegan cheese options which make potato cheese look like potato. But I haven’t craved cheese, so I’ve largely ignored the options. Until two weeks ago when I was offered a free sample of a faux ‘Tom’ cheese made from fermented cashews. I hated it. It was fermenty and strong and, well, cheesy. Is this imitation so good, and 18 years without cheese means that now I hate cheese? Or alternatively, is this vegan cheese simply bad?
H0: Vegan cheese tastes good (but I don’t like cheese).
H1: Vegan cheese does not taste good.
I ran two experiments with my colleagues as the test subjects.
Experiment one
I left out two cheeses at work, without their labelling.
Cheese 1: The same vegan Tom cheese that I was given a sample of.
Cheese 2: A normal Tom cheese.
I asked colleagues to state which cheese they preferred.
The results were simple. Only 14% (2/14) preferred the vegan cheese. (This wasn’t rigorous because people could see the responses, so social influence has an effect.)
But wait! Perhaps this vegan cheese was particularly bad. So back to the shop I go…
Experiment two
Again, at work, I left out cheeses without their labelling. This time I left out four cheeses.
Cheese 1. Vegan cheese A
Cheese 2: Vegan cheese B
Cheese 3: Dairy, lactose free cheese
Cheese 4: Normal Tom cheese
Both vegan cheese A and B were also made from fermented cashew nuts, but they were not the same as the original vegan cheese that started this all. Now I asked for a ranking system. The results are shown below, where the cheeses are presented in order of popularity.
Fig 1. The ranking of the four cheeses, ordered by most popular to least.
The popularity order was determined by comparing the mean score. And out of interest, three pairwise comparisons confirm that the top three cheeses ranked similarly:
1. Normal cheese with Vegan A cheese (Cliff’s delta -0.19),
2. Normal cheese with Lactose free cheese (Cliff’s delta -0.27),
3. Vegan A cheese with Lactose free cheese (Cliff’s delta -0.05).
Pair wise comparisons with Vegan cheese B were not required as it is a clear loser here. From the Cliff’s delta score, Vegan cheese A and Lactose free cheese B are almost equally popular.
So it seems that vegan cheese can be enjoyed nearly as much as dairy cheese, especially if it’s lactose free dairy cheese. But vegan cheese varies a lot. Out of the three vegan cheeses my colleagues tasted, only one could compete for the taste buds of non-vegans. So did I like the popular vegan cheese? Well no. In fact, I could tolerate Vegan cheese B most easily, perhaps because it had less flavour.
In conclusion, I reject the null hypothesis. Even though some vegan cheeses can win over cheese lovers, overall, the fermented cashew lacks the cheesy goodness that my colleagues crave.
Why deprive myself of cheesy goodness? To answer that I have to describe my consumer mindset, which is mostly driven by my crippling indecisiveness.
Three dimensional shopping
I’m a dithering and stressed shopper. Few moments in my life have filled me with self-doubt more than staring at 30 options for tweezers in Boots. I realised that I am a novice to the decision factors involved in tweezer shopping.
If I was Neo, the film would have ended with me sitting on the floor, Googling the difference between all the options.
Instead of tweezers, let’s consider the simpler task of clothes shopping. Because when choosing whether or not to buy a new clothing item, my decision process used to be boiled down to (i) desire (ii) affordability, see Fig 2(a).
Fig 2. Every circle represents a new item of clothing that gets my attention. A surrounding square represents a purchase. Plot (a) represents how I used to shop, weighing up desire and affordability only. Plot (b) represents how I shop now. The third dimension, ethics, is represented by a linear scale from unethical (dark red) to ethical (dark green).
Suppose every circle here represents a new item of clothing that, for a brief moment, gets my attention. And every surrounding square represents that I brought the item.
When shopping, my indecisive brain is overloaded so I used to buy cheap things unquestionably in order to avoid making decisions about whether or not I truly wanted them. And very rarely, I’d buy an expensive item that I really, really wanted.
With only affordability and desire as my explicit decisions factors, I’d walk out of Primark with bags of shopping. I knew this shopping process was creating a demand for dangerous working conditions, and I’d feel a bit of guilt, but guilt doesn’t stop me wanting something!
A few years back I started adding the ethics of the item as a third dimension.
As consumers, we all have our ethical boundaries. Making mine explicit as a decision factor restrains my dithering a bit.
Suppose all the items before can be coloured from green to red representing ethical to not (respectively). Now I shop more like Fig 2(b).
With the separation of ‘desire’ and ‘ethics’ I don’t buy cheap, unethical, things unless I superdouperreallytruly want them. The consequence is that I own fewer pointless, pretty things. Which is perhaps a downside, because put a pretty print on anything, and I want it. Yes. Anything.
On the upside, I’ve indulged in a few more spectacular items that come with twinges of smug joy. And on a confused side, my loved, unethical, purchases come with twinges of guilt each time they’re used. Which in many cases, is daily. Fortunately they’re so pretty that they distract me from my inner-conflict.
A sparkly bag is my bacon sandwich. The joy is far too great for any other thoughts.
The non-linearity of ethics
Despite my representation of ethics on a linear scale of unethical to ethical, it’s impossible to quantify the ethics of a lifestyle. I once spent a month in Bolivia primarily eating Oreos, which although vegan, contains palm oil. It’s unlikely that my Oreo month was the right thing for the world.
And I will continue to make unethical choices daily, so I can’t judge, and I don’t wish to be judged. Ethics and personal choices are complex and impossible to get right. We all have our own decision factors to balance. My choices relate to me, the many privileges that I have, and my easily-overwhelmed indecisiveness. I can’t get it all right, but veganism seems like an easy step towards something that is, at least, in the right direction. So although I miss out on cheese, and whatever other taste sensations warrant pity for vegans, I choose my simpler life over and over. And as it turns out, I don’t even like cheese! So I guess I’m not a martyred vegan. I’m a happy vegan!