Vegan urban chic is the name that the Grumpy Vegan gives to the phenomena most recently described in The New York Times.
Like feminism that embraces makeup and miniskirts — the frivolous bits — Ms. Moskowitz’s veganism embraces chocolate, white flour, confectioners’ sugar, and food coloring.
The Grumpy Vegan does, of course, personify vegan urban chic. Indeed, he’s done so since his transformation from a 1970s pre-disco/punk/hip hop suburban meat-eating white boy to a disdaining post modern, pop culture hating, “vegan is a journey” snob.
What’s more, the trendiest vegan restaurant is so secret, so underground that it’s not even open to the public. You can only get in if the Grumpy Vegan invites you. As with any good nightclub, it’s your attitude and appearance that gets you in. Otherwise, forget it. At Chez Le Grumpy Vegan, the ambience is homey but not syrupy, the music is intriguing but not intrusive, the conversation is provocative but not in your face, and the food is, quite simply, delicious. You can’t beat good home-style vegan cooking by someone who hates to eat out. There are no bad dining experiences at Chez Le Grumpy Vegan.
So, how do the vegan urban chic and wannabees get their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to dine at Chez Le Grumpy Vegan? It’s simple. Follow these instructions: Don’t ask. Don’t tell.
