Kucinich's Salad Days
Originally published in the Washington Post
Kucinich's Salad Days
The Vegan's a Long Shot, but He's the Healthy Choice
By Mark Leibovich
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, November 9, 2003; Page D01
Dennis Kucinich is hungry for the nation's biggest job and a plate of kidney beans.
At the moment, the kidney beans are more realistic. He walks into his favorite Capitol Hill restaurant -- Taverna the Greek Islands -- and orders the beans. They arrive in a few minutes, along with Kucinich's usual plate of hummus with wheat pita bread, sliced zucchini sauteed in olive oil, a tomato and onion relish, a Greek salad without feta cheese and a pot of boiling water with lemon wedges.
This is comfort food for the long-shot Democratic presidential candidate. He has spent a long day of campaigning in New Hampshire followed by a flurry of votes in Congress. He is, in all likelihood, the first major party vegan to run for president. He ingests no beef, poultry, fish, dairy or animal products (exact definitions vary, but by contrast, vegetarians resist meats but not all animal products, such as eggs). Kucinich also eschews processed foods, caffeine, alcohol and tobacco. Does he indulge any vices? "Yes," he says, "I'm a member of Congress."
Not for long, if all goes according to Kucinich's plan. He envisions waking up in the White House on Jan. 21, 2005, and sitting down to a presidential breakfast of oat groats sprinkled with walnuts, bananas, coconut and raisins, a bowl of miso soup, wheat toast and a plate of fresh vegetables.
But first things first. Such as the question of whether red-meat America is ready for a vegan president. Or, more to the point, if red-meat America is ready to elect a vegan president who is Dennis Kucinich, a figure whose long-shot status in the presidential race is a result of many factors besides his diet. He is little-known nationally, barely shows up in polls and his signature political experience -- as mayor of Cleveland in the 1970s -- landed the city in financial ruin.
But at the very least, Kucinich, 57, laps the rest of the field in terms of healthy diet. The prospective First Vegan eats extremely well -- and as any candidate will attest, eating well is not easy in the long, bustling course of a campaign. Eating vegan would be nearly impossible, except that Kucinich has a network of people across the country who will secure him a righteous meal on short notice.
And yes, he says, America is ready for a vegan president. He doesn't proselytize. "Food is so personal to people," he says. He doesn't bring up the subject of his diet and voters never ask him about it.
But reporters do, quite a bit. And Kucinich has a theory as to why. As a teenager, he worked as a copy boy at the Cleveland Plain Dealer, where he witnessed the appalling health and eating habits of the press.
"Journalists, probably as an occupational hazard, have the worst diets," Kucinich says. "So I think that their special interest in my diet comes from some desire they have to eat better. And whenever I'm asked about my diet, compassion requires me to sit down and talk about it."
Kucinich demonstrates this compassion for a Washington Post reporter on a recent rainy night. He is a refreshingly smaller-than-life figure who jokes easily about himself while holding fiercely to his liberal ideals.
This includes his veganism, which Kucinich embraced nine years ago at the inspiration of a former girlfriend, Yelena Boxer. Before his conversion, Kucinich says, he would typically eat breakfasts that included steak, eggs, cereal and six glazed doughnuts.
Today, he weighs 135 pounds, which is down from a top weight of 158. He has more energy, requires less sleep (five hours a night) and almost never gets sick -- all of which are essential to surviving the grind of a campaign. "I've ended up with a level of energy and health and clarity that goes beyond anything I've ever had in my life," says Kucinich.
He was elected to the rubber-chicken realm of Congress in 1996. He says his dietary and political philosophies are aligned. "It just makes sense for me in every way," he says of his diet, which he says conforms to his commitment to peace, tolerance and the humane treatment of animals.
Kucinich is not perfect on animals. He owns at least one pair of leather shoes. As president, he would not impose his vegan outlook. At state dinners, the Kucinich White House would offer non-vegan as well as vegan fare. A carnivorous world of dignitaries can rest easy.
As the plates are cleared, Kucinich goes off-vegan and on-message: He reiterates his opposition to the war in Iraq, his commitment to universal health care and his prediction that the race for the Democratic nomination will not be settled until the convention.
He wipes a smudge of hummus from his cheek and concludes his testimony on self, country and diet with a question:
"Is this story running in the food section?"
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