"Why Do Vegans Eat Fake Meat?" Maybe We're Asking the Wrong Question.

On culinary memories, plant-based innovation, and one remarkably delicious salmon that never swam.

There's a question that vegans hear surprisingly often:

“If you don't want to eat meat, why do you eat things that look and taste like meat?”

It's usually delivered as though the question exposes some great philosophical inconsistency. A gotcha moment. But I've always found the premise rather peculiar.

Who decided that choosing not to eat animals meant we had to stop enjoying the flavors, textures, and culinary traditions associated with them? I certainly didn't sign up for that. And lately, thanks to some extraordinary developments in plant-based foods, I've been thinking that the question itself may be hopelessly outdated.

I Remember the Real Thing

I'm not someone who became vegan because I never liked meat. Quite the contrary.

For much of my life, I was an accomplished omnivore cook. I knew my way around animal proteins from standing rib roasts to wild game, understood how to coax flavor from them, and took considerable pleasure in preparing delicious meals.

Those memories haven't disappeared because my relationship with food has changed.

Nor do I think they should. What has changed is my decision about what I want to eat today. And here's the delightful part: increasingly, I don't have to sacrifice the culinary pleasures I remember.

Enter a Salmon That Never Swam

Recently, I've become rather enamored of a plant-based salmon filet made by Oshi.

And when I say enamored, I mean it. This stuff is damn good.

Is it an exact replica of wild Alaskan salmon? No. And I don't particularly care.

What Oshi has managed to create is something with a distinctly seafood-like flavor and a remarkably satisfying texture. The filet separates into layers, develops a beautiful exterior when cooked, and offers an eating experience that is genuinely pleasurable.

I don't know precisely how their food scientists achieved that seafood flavor, but they've done something impressive. More importantly, they've created something I enjoy on its own merits. Not because it fools me into believing I'm eating a fish.

Because it's delicious.

A Little Miso Magic

My favorite preparation couldn't be much simpler.

I take a thawed Oshi salmon filet and brush it with a glaze made from red miso, a little coconut sugar, and aji mirin.

I allow the glaze to sit for a while, seasoning the surface of the filet, then pop it into my Ninja air fryer oven.

About ten minutes later, dinner.

Of course, I keep an eye on it through the glass door. Miso and sugar can go from beautifully browned to scorched if you aren't paying attention.

But when everything comes together, the result is wonderful: a deeply browned, savory-sweet crust surrounding a tender, layered interior.

Serve it with brown rice and a generous helping of colorful vegetables, and you've got a meal that satisfies on every level.

There's nothing apologetic about it. Nothing that suggests we're settling for second best.

It's simply good cooking.

But Isn't It Processed?

Ah, yes. The other inevitable question. And it's a fair one.

Many commercial plant-based meat analogues are processed foods. Some contain more sodium, refined oils, or saturated fat than we'd ideally want in our everyday diets.

I don't believe we should ignore those considerations simply because a product is vegan. My husband and I generally follow a whole-food, plant-based way of eating. Vegetables, fruits, beans, lentils, intact grains, nuts, and seeds remain the foundation of our meals.

But I also believe there's room for perspective.

A thoughtfully prepared meal featuring a plant-based salmon filet, brown rice, and vegetables doesn't somehow become nutritionally worthless because one ingredient was manufactured rather than harvested from a garden. Nor does every food we eat need to qualify as a nutritional superstar - just because YouTube influencers say so. Food is nourishment, certainly. But it's also pleasure, culture, memory, creativity, and connection. And the nutritional qualities of plant-based meat products vary considerably. They deserve to be evaluated individually rather than dismissed—or celebrated—simply because they're processed. I don't believe our plant-based diet needs to be seen as a rigidly austere 'purity' test. That rather defeats the pleasure of cooking and enjoying food.

Beyond Imitation

Here's where I think things become especially interesting.

For years, plant-based meat manufacturers have been trying to reproduce familiar animal products. The perfect beefless burger. The convincing chicken nugget. The sausage that tastes just like pork. And I understand why. Familiarity makes dietary change easier. People who love hamburgers don't necessarily want to abandon the experience of eating one just because they've decided to stop eating cows.

But what happens when these products begin to develop culinary identities of their own? What happens when we stop asking whether a plant-based salmon tastes exactly like salmon and start asking whether it's a food worth eating? That's a very different conversation.

After all, we don't evaluate a portobello mushroom by how accurately it imitates a steak. We appreciate its own flavor, texture, and culinary possibilities.

Why shouldn't we extend the same courtesy to an innovative plant-based filet?

Perhaps the most exciting future for meat analogues isn't perfect imitation.

Perhaps it's invention.

A Different Kind of Culinary Adventure

I find something rather wonderful about this stage of my cooking life.

I've spent decades learning about food. I've prepared animal proteins, explored vegetarian cooking, and eventually embraced a whole-food vegan diet.

And now, at a time when one might reasonably expect my culinary habits to be thoroughly established, entirely new ingredients are appearing in my kitchen.

Ingredients that challenge my assumptions, invite experimentation, and occasionally surprise the daylights out of me. That's exciting. And it's one of the reasons I resist the notion that plant-based eating is fundamentally about deprivation. Yes, we choose not to eat certain things. But look at what we're discovering.

New ingredients. New techniques. New textures. New flavors. New possibilities.

Perhaps the most interesting development in plant-based meat isn't simply that manufacturers have learned to make convincing substitutes. It's that experienced cooks are discovering new ways to make these products delicious. The Oshi Salmon, the Beyond Steak tips, the Juicy Marbles fillets, Chef Chew's Fried Chicken all share something. They're innovative plant-based foods that give us new ways to enjoy food without needing to reject the culinary pleasures of our past to embrace something different.

So Why Do Vegans Eat Meat Analogues?

For all sorts of reasons. Some miss familiar flavors. Some appreciate the convenience. Some want to preserve family food traditions. Others see these products as a way to reduce the environmental and ethical costs of animal agriculture. And some of us simply enjoy exploring what imaginative people can create from plants.

Those reasons aren't mutually exclusive. I can remember fishing for salmon in Alaska with affection, respect the traditions surrounding that experience, and still choose not to eat fish today. I can appreciate what real salmon tastes like without insisting that every plant-based alternative reproduce it perfectly. And I can celebrate a delicious new food without pretending it's nutritionally equivalent to a bowl of lentils.

None of that strikes me as contradictory. It strikes me as having choices.

So the next time someone asks why vegans insist on eating foods that resemble meat, perhaps we should turn the question around.

Why should the pleasures of savory flavors, satisfying textures, and wonderful cooking belong exclusively to foods made from animals?

I can't think of a good reason.

And after another dinner of miso-glazed Oshi salmon, I'm not particularly inclined to look for one.

Bon appétit—from a kitchen where the salmon never swam.