Vegetarian food amounts to much more than mung beans and lentils, says S.M. King.

Back in the hazy bong cloud of the 1990s, I lived with a vegetarian. Or, to be more exact, about seventeen of the buggers.

Of the sarong-covered milk crate hell that was an inner-urban vegetarian share house, I remember little. Save for the fact that I often scampered off to eat animals away from our bloodless kitchen.

I also recall that these bindi-plastered persons were always banging on about the health benefits of the herbivorous life. And, actually, they were right. 

Studies from Oxford University to the rather less reliable Seventh Day Adventist medical auxiliary have found that a diet rich in plant matter tends to allay disease.  However, and as I would have pointed out at the time had I not been completely blunted: a daily menu of instant noodles, coffee grounds and strong Californian acid is hardly going to please the Surgeon General. Is it?

These vegetarians have grown up, I suspect. And even if they haven’t, their peers have certainly matured. The naïve and bean-curd-rich gastronomy of previous decades has made way for a far more tempting cuisine. And one, very often, that doesn’t have me sneaking off for covert slabs of prime rib.

These days, vegetarians are everywhere. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my best friends are vegetarian.)

Naturally, the needs of happy herbivores are now reflected in our better kitchens. At Pearl, Geoff Lindsay has devised a ripper vegetarian degustation. Ezard, Vue de Monde, Circa, and Jacques Reymond are a few of the other posh nosheries that cook well beyond the realm of flavourless, meat-free mush. In fact, there are few finer places to blow the equivalent of a week’s rent on vegetables rendered with love.

Often the dishes at these places are so good, carnivores will feel they’re the ones missing out. And, of course, it’s true. When a great chef is forced out of their comfort zone and into meat-free freefall, the results can be spectacular. I remember sulking all night when my partner ordered the veggie degustation at Daylesford’s Lakehouse restaurant. Who’d have thunk you could do that with a beetroot?

Of course, and as any veggo will readily affirm, it wasn’t always so. Traditionally, chefs had little patience for those who don’t bow before the altar of fat, bone, and flesh. This old-school attitude is still surprisingly prevalent, and jokes about our herbivore friends abound (my favourite being: how many vegans does it take to change a light bulb? Three. One to change the damn thing and two to check for animal products.).

Daring chefs, however, rise to the challenge of undoing their trad French roots. And, similarly, the plucky home cook can now see a meal in the terms of its plant matter.

We carnivores need to shift our thinking. As many dieticians have it, meat should only be taken in small portions every other day.  And, as many environmentalists have it, meat production is simply not sustainable.  

Yet, popular thinking has it that meat is the mover and shaker of a meal. Ask me what I had for dinner last night, and I’d tell you lamb chops. I wouldn’t say: grilled zucchini, tsatsiki dressing with chickpea and tomato salad with lamb.

The top end places across town are making concessions without blowing their haute image or flavour.  We can do it too.