Vegan in San Jose: Good Karma Cafe and Vegetarian House

My friend Robin and I traveled to San Jose last weekend to witness its greatest cultural attraction, the San Jose Flea Market. We rolled into town around 2 PM and decided that we were far too hungry to go directly to the flea market; we'd need to eat something first.  We asked our iPhones about "vegan san jose" and were surprised by the high number of results.  (Google seems to think that "vegan" and "vegetarian" are synonymous, so most of the results were vegetarian restaurants.)  The first two results were Vegetarian House and Good Karma Vegan Cafe.  The Vegetarian House's Flash Web site was useless on the iPhone, and Good Karma's didn't exist.  So we read some Yelp reviews and chose the latter.  We couldn't ignore reviewers' urgency to try Good Karma's mashed potatoes.

Good Karma Cafe
Our iPhones soon led us downtown, to an area of San Jose that exhibits some rare architectural character.  Parking was easy, the sidewalks were underpopulated, and Good Karma's Ryan welcomed us into his customerless cafe with relaxed enthusiasm.

Good Karma's atmosphere was exactly what this vegan finds comforting in a strange land: interesting art for sale on one wall, a community bulletin board on another, natural light, pizzeria style tables, a chalkboard menu, good music, and beer on tap.  Ryan even asked us what music we wanted to listen to. We asked him to expose us to something new, which turned out to be something suitably independent and highly listenable.  (I'd tell you what it was but it was also easily forgettable.)

Our first glance at the deli case assured us that we had picked the best vegan experience in San Jose. Unfortunately, everything looked and sounded so delicious that it was difficult to decide what to order.  Ryan (who claimed to have personally made everything except the baklava and the pork buns) offered us some helpful advice. Between us we walked away with mashed potatoes, jerked tofu, dal,  curry, basmati rice, and two pints of IPA.  Carbohydrate-heavy?  Yes.  Delicious? Absolutely.  The mashed potatoes were everything Yelp claimed they would be.  The jerked tofu was probably my favorite of the dishes, followed closely by the dal. 

Our senses were so pleasantly stimulated at Good Karma that we toyed with the idea of having a couple more pints there and foregoing the flea market adventure.  Miraculously, we tore ourselves away from the oasis to complete our original mission,  but not without a little Karma to go: a tamale, a pork bun, and a baklava.

The Flea Market and the Tech Museum
The San Jose Flea Market was a lot different than I expected. Robin, however, confessed a nostalgic familiarity with the scene; it reminded her of her formative years the Southern California desert, where she was surrounded by Baptists, Mexicans, poverty, and plastic.

There was plenty of cheap, non-organic produce at the flea market, much of which I couldn't identify. There were also lots of nuts flavored with who-knows-what.  I didn't bother asking if the flavorings were vegan, despite my love for spicy pistachios; I doubted that their purveyors had the knowledge nor the vocabulary to answer that question satisfactorily, and would probably assure a nut allergy sufferer that these nuts were muy seguras.

After a couple hours of roaming the waning flea market we decided to look for a more gratifying experience, perhaps something that we could better relate to.  So we navigated back to downtown San Jose and checked out Star Trek: The Exhibit at the Tech Museum. It wasn't a bad exhibit, but it was nothing like the exhibits I'd seen at the Boston Museum of Science over the past few years, like Star Wars or Lord of the Rings.  It was relatively small, and there were fewer authentic costumes, props, and models than I expected.  Some of the most interesting stuff was on big, printed placards--the parking meters in San Jose were more interactive than that.  But this isn't a blog about science museum exhibits, so I'll leave it at that.

Vegetarian House
It took several hours at a flea market and a museum to burn enough Good Karma to get us hungry again.  Dismayed that we were about to eat a second meal in this city in one day, we trekked to the San Jose vegetarian restaurant voted #1 by our iPhones.  I am glad that we did.  (Before I continue, I'd like to mention that the photos included hereafter were taken with my iPhone in poor lighting; I had left my flattering camera in the car.)

From the outside, Vegetarian House looks quaint and homey.  It also looks like a house.  Then you walk inside and you're served a hot mug of WTF.  Flourescent lighting, pastel colors, two separate dining areas; androgynous staff in polo shirts; walls of books, DVDs and CDs; photos of women in various costumes all over the place; a television displaying strange images... wait a minute.  Is that the same woman in all those photos?  And on all those DVDs? And on the TV!? Why, yes, it is!  She's The Supreme Master Ching Hai.  Hey, is this place run by a cult?  Why, yes, it is!

We might have been a little disturbed or suspicious of a cult-run restaurant if it wasn't for years of experience with Ananda Fuara in San Francisco.  Judging by the size of Vegetarian House's menu, the broad spectrum of dishes, the amount of media on display, and the number of customers, it seems that Ching Hai is indeed a more powerful deity than the late Sri Chinmoy (despite his superhuman strength).  She's certainly a better artist. But it's possible that Sri Chinmoy is growing more powerful in the spirit plane and will soon emerge from that celestial realm to claim the title of Supreme Master.  Until then, let's eat!

We started with the Ocean Basket, "a delicious platter of crumbed yam flour crescents, exotic mushrooms, coleslaw, French fries and a vegan tartar sauce."  Oh, so good.  And so bad for you.  I could almost hear the gulls over Buzzard's Bay arguing over a stolen fried clam as we dunked those golden nuggets into their delicious sauce.  I don't know when I last had tartar sauce.  What would I put it on?  Vegan seafood is rare stuff.

For her entree, Robin got the Guru's Curry, "an exotic blend of curries, white soy protein, potato, tomato and spices in a rich gravy served with a dal soup, chutney and rice."  I think it was the winner of the night.  It definitely kicked the ass of my Crispy "Joy Luck" Noodles, "crispy wheat noodles topped with vegetables, soy protein, mushroom and tofu, sautéed in a special seasoned sauce." My dish was flavorful, but I thought the noodles were too difficult to manage and ultimately a texture clash for the dish.

We finished with some vegan cheesecake, which I was too busy appreciating to photograph.

All the while we were served by polite, quiet, smiling staff dressed in smart attire.  If you find their outfits fetching, you might like to browse the catalog over by the clothing display and order your own cult uniform.  (The shirt in the shitty photograph below reads, "Save The World Am A Vegan And Green."  I don't understand the grammar, either.)

In the end, if I had to pick only one San Jose vegan restaurant to go to ever again, it would be Good Karma.  I felt that it had more soul and more flavor, overall, than House of Vegetarian.  And, most importantly, it had beer.

Faux pas-stess Cupcakes

I made 12 cupcakes for a potluck/house-warming party. Making cupcakes isn't supposed to give you a heart attack.  It's supposed to be pleasant, contemplative, and therapeutic.  When I chose to make Fauxstess Cupcakes from the lovely Ms. Moskowitz's Vegan With A Vengeance, I didn't know that I was choosing to make the most complicated cupcake of my life in front of an audience of 30 curious, omniverous, alcohol-drinking party guests.

Let me back up a bit. I was going to make the Lime Cocounut cupcakes from Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World--which I have made before with great success--but all of my books have been shipped off ahead of me to San Francisco with the rest of my tangible life.  Fortunately, my Mom continues to surprise me; she produced a crisp copy of VwaV that she recently got off amazon.com.  (I don't know if any other vegans out there have a hard time eating with their families, but I'm grateful that I don't.)  She then expressed her faith in my ability to create anything edible by recommending that I simply grab a baguette and a jar of bruschetta sauce from Stop 'n' Shop.

I believe that the nature of the things that you create is affected by the energy that you put into making them.  If you put a lot of effort into creating something, the results will usually reflect that effort in some way.  The creation may be flawed, or ugly, but it will have a soul.  A supermarket baguette and a jar of sauce do not have souls.

Similarly, I believe that the effort you put into a potluck contribution reflects your respect for your fellow guests.  If I throw down a dozen Dunkin' Donuts on the potluck table, I may as well turn around and piss in the punchbowl.  Also, protocol dictates that you arrive with your creation in-hand, offer it to the host, and then mingle with everyone else, mutually admiring the contributions peripherally while focusing on interpersonal interaction.  You shouldn't destroy your host's kitchen by making your contribution on-site, while the party is in full-swing.  That's what I did.

I had spent the day helping my hosts clean their apartment and fetching party supplies and groceries.  I also drove all over Fairfield county looking for a sifter, an electric beater,  and a pastry bag.  I had planned to have the cupcakes done before the guests started arriving, but I had barely got the batter into liners when they started to roll in.  An hour later I was struggling with a separating ganache while loud people were tearing apart a chicken carcass beside me.  (Rabbitt is vegetarian, so his thoughtful in-laws saw it fit to bring a roasted chicken to his potluck.)

In the end, I succeeded.  The sink was filled with messy flour and frosting and filling, but it was impossible to do the dishes in their crowded kitchen.  From that wasteland I emerged holding the fruit of my scrutinized labor aloft on a cutting board, and in a final flourish of drama, spilled three of them onto the floor.

Whatever.  They were good, if ugly.  Best of all, they didn't seem to have absorbed any of my stress, frustration, or self-consciousness.

WTF is Gardein?

The last time I visited my folks, my mom busted out the Mexican torta she learned about on her own, after harnessing the yin and yang of local print media and the Word Wide Web. This time, she introduced me to Gardein, the "garden protein," which she learned about on Oprah.

I was immediately suspicious of the stuff, largely because I had never heard of it (I'm the vegan in the family for chrissakes), but also because I couldn't believe that Oprah was pushing a thoroughly vegan product to every white American woman over the age of 55. So I did a little Googling and clicked through the gratuitous Flash pages on www.gardein.com and determined that, sure enough, the stuff was legit. So when my mom asked me if she should make the chick'n scallopini recipe featured on the show, I consented. (Now, a lot of vegan bloggers would have taken the reins at this point, dutifully making the dish for their mothers. But, as I've said before, I'm lazy. And my mom claims to love cooking for me, so it's win-win.)

So off we went to the closest Whole Foods to procure the ingredients, packing enough food, water, blankets, and ammunition to ensure a safe journey. When we finally made it to the store we were met with two obstacles: they had a small selection of Gardein's broad product line, which didn't include the "chick'n fillets" nor the "scallopini" described in the recipe; and they didn't have udon noodle cakes, whatever those are. So we got the "santa fe good stuff" and regular udon noodles, hoping for the best.

The best turned out pretty good. My mom put four piles of udon noodles into separate ramekins after cooking them, to give them a cake-like shape that held together pretty well in the pan. The stuffing in the "santa fe good stuff" did clash with the Asian tone of the recipe, but it was easy to forgive. The texture of the Gardein was disturbingly close to what I remember of actual chicken, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. Surprisingly, the most delicious part of the recipe was the pea shoots. Frickin' delicous.

While I feel that this product came out of nowhere on a rocket-fueled marketing sled, I'm pleased that its sights are set on the mainstream; I can see it giving a lot of on-the-fence omnivores the motivation they need to eat less meat. I'm certainly not in the crossover market that Gardein is targeting, so its similarity to the "real thing" isn't a selling point for me. Nonetheless, I'll gladly try their other flavors, if for no other reason than to expand my options for easy protein. Thanks again, Mom.