I am anti-imposter. I don't believe in buying designer knock offs. The lawyer in me shudders at the intellectual property implications, and the girl-who-still-cares-about-clothes-despite-the-fact-that-she-wears-yoga-pants-everyday would rather have one quality item over 10 items that will be destroyed after one season. Still, against my better judgment I tried an imitation product this weekend.
Since January 6th, I have had no dairy. That means no cheese, no yogurt, no ice cream. It also means no foods containing dairy in any form, which basically rules out my entire normal pantry. This has been extraordinarily difficult, but seeing B with a huge smile on his face each day has numbed the pain of my dairy free world....with one exception. I love pizza. And I mean LOVE. Not in a "I have pizza once a month" kind of way, but in a "I have to limit the number of times I can eat pizza per week" kind of way. I want pizza, crave it, dream about it...and not even B's precious smiles make these yearnings go away.
So on Saturday I did some research. I knew that virtually all soy cheeses actually contain the milk protein which triggers allergy, but I was hoping to find one that was truly dairy free. And I did. One vegan cheese that claimed to taste like actual cheese. And a nearby pizza shop actually carried this cheese and could make a dairy free pizza. Armed with this new information, I went downstairs and excitedly announced that we were having pizza for dinner. I even did a pizza dance, which Frances found hilarious. Once the twins were tucked in, I made the call. My pulse raced as I waited for Andrew to arrive with pizza in tow. I had not been this excited about food since........ever. It looked a little odd, but I remained hopeful. So I took a bite. And it was absolutely disgusting. Literally one of the worst things I have ever tried to eat.
Further proof that my no faux rule should be strictly enforced.