If you’ve ever asked, “Hey, what’s in this?” at a family dinner and felt a wave of awkward tension wash over the table—I see you.
I used to dread those moments. The potluck panic. The side-eyes from someone who thinks I’m being dramatic. The way someone always says, “It’s just a little cheese, you probably won’t even taste it.”
For a long time, I laughed it off. I minimized it. I made myself small and easy so everyone else could stay comfortable.
But not anymore.
This is the story of how I stopped apologizing for asking about ingredients—and started owning my values, out loud, at the dinner table.
How It Used to Go
I remember one holiday in particular. I was newly vegan, still finding my footing, and determined not to make a fuss.
I brought a dish to share (obviously). I gave a heads-up that I was plant-based. I even pre-ate a little, just in case.
So when the meal began and I politely asked, “Hey, does the stuffing have chicken broth?” you’d think I asked if they seasoned it with gasoline.
My aunt rolled her eyes. My mom whispered, “Can you just eat around it?” And someone at the other end of the table actually muttered, *”Here we go again…”
Cue the shame spiral.
So what did I do? I took a bite, smiled, and told myself, *”Don’t be a burden. Just get through the meal.”
Spoiler alert: I felt terrible afterward—physically and emotionally.
The Turning Point
Fast forward a couple of years. I was still vegan. Still going to family dinners. But something had shifted.
I was tired of the guilt. Tired of apologizing for not wanting to eat something that didn’t align with who I was.
So one night, I did something radical: I asked about the ingredients without apologizing.
No nervous laugh. No “I’m sorry, but…” Just:
“Hey, does this have dairy or eggs?”
“Thanks for checking—I’ll skip it if it does.”
And when someone said, “Oh, come on, it’s just a little butter,” I smiled and said, “I get that—but I don’t eat animal products, even in small amounts. That matters to me.”
It was quiet for a second. But then… nothing bad happened.
No explosion. No drama. Just… food. And choices. And a little more respect.
Why I Used to Apologize So Much
Looking back, I know exactly why I kept shrinking myself:
- I didn’t want to seem difficult or demanding.
- I didn’t want to be judged or accused of being preachy.
- I didn’t want to make other people feel bad about what they were eating.
But here’s what I finally learned:
Asking about ingredients isn’t rude. It’s respectful.
I’m respecting myself, my body, my ethics. I’m asking because I care about what I consume. And that doesn’t make me a problem—it makes me aware.
The Reactions I’ve Gotten (and How I Handle Them Now)
Let’s break this down, shall we?
1. “It’s just a little cheese, come on!”
— I hear you, and I know it might not seem like a big deal. But I’m not comfortable eating dairy, even in small amounts.
2. “Ugh, I made this special and now you won’t eat it?”
— Thank you so much for thinking of me. I appreciate the effort so much, and I’m happy to eat the salad or whatever else works. It means a lot that you tried.
3. “You used to eat meat, what changed?”
— Yeah, I did! And I’m proud of how far I’ve come. This way of eating feels aligned with who I am now.
4. Silence + side-eyes
— That’s their story, not mine. I stay grounded, I take up space, and I eat my roasted veggies in peace.
What I Tell My Kids
My kids are vegan, too, which adds another layer to all of this. So here’s what I teach them:
- It’s okay to ask questions about your food.
- You don’t have to eat something just to make someone else happy.
- Kindness doesn’t mean shrinking yourself.
And when we go to family dinners now, we prep together. We bring food we love. We stay confident and kind.
One time, my daughter asked my uncle, “Do the mashed potatoes have butter?” and when he said yes, she said, “Okay! I’ll have extra green beans then.”
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t make a big deal. And no one made her feel weird about it.
The Truth About Being “The Vegan at the Table”
Here’s the real deal:
Being the only vegan at the table can feel lonely. Like you have to be the spokesperson for an entire movement every time you pass the rolls.
But the more you show up unapologetically, the less energy it takes. You stop performing. You just are.
And slowly, the people around you adjust. They might not go vegan, but they will stop asking if you want turkey.
Some might even start labeling dishes. Or trying your food. Or making you a vegan side without being asked.
(Take it from me—my mom now makes a vegan lentil loaf and regular meatloaf for family dinners. It only took four years, lol.)
Tips for Navigating Family Dinners Without the Drama
If you’re still in the early stages, here are a few things that helped me:
- Always bring a dish you love (and enough to share!)
- Let the host know ahead of time that you’re vegan and happy to bring something.
- Don’t make your plate the topic of conversation. Just eat what you want.
- Practice your responses to common comments so you’re not caught off guard.
- Lead with gratitude, not guilt. Thank people for including you, even if the dish isn’t a fit.
Final Thoughts
Asking about ingredients isn’t high-maintenance. It’s high-integrity.
You don’t need to apologize for caring about your food. You don’t need to compromise your values to make things easier for everyone else. And you definitely don’t need to eat something that doesn’t sit right with your body or your heart.
So no, I’m not just being difficult.
I’m being honest.
And if that makes things a little uncomfortable around the dinner table? Well, I’d rather have that than indigestion and a side of regret.
Have you had a moment like this at a family dinner? I’d love to hear your story. Leave a comment or share how you navigate food, family, and values. We’re rewriting the rules—one bite at a time.
Kristyn Medeiros 