Obviously, times have changed. These days, going vegan requires almost no planning and, better yet, no dreadlocks. With the spread of Whole Foods and Trader Joe's, and the mainstreaming of the health-food ethos, delicious vegan choices are so plentiful that maintaining a "teeny-tiny" vegan physique is as tough as maintaining an omnivorous one.

In addition to Horizons, the city's terrific vegan restaurant, nowadays I can grab a mock tuna sandwich at the Reading Terminal, vegan dim sum in Chinatown - and even vegan summer rolls in the suburbs. (See sidebar for best vegan bets.)

So what's the difference between vegans and plain old vegetarians? On the animal-free continuum, vegans are stricter in their diet than ovo-lacto vegetarians, but not nearly as hard-core as raw-foodists. Vegans eschew animal-derived foods - milk, eggs, even honey, and some extend this commitment to silk, wool, leather and other animal byproducts. (I figured that cheese would be the toughest sacrifice for me, but it turns out, leather, as in shoes, is proving the toughest temptation of all.)

Like many other vegetarians in this city, I gave up meat because of Horizons chef/owner Rich Landau. Except, at the time, he was Cheltenham High School senior Rich Landau, and his sisters, twins Rue and Sue, were my frequent sophomore-year lunch mates. (Rue's name may sound familiar; she was recently named head of Michael Nutter's Commission on Human Relations.)

As the Landaus went veg, their idea, that one's conscience could manifest itself in such a concrete and essential manner, dovetailed perfectly with my emerging teenage desire to proclaim autonomy. I stopped eating meat at 15, and didn't go back for more than a decade.

I married a fellow vegetarian, and for a while, all was leafy and green, with Moosewood cookbooks providing most of our meals. However, during my first pregnancy, the odor of my husband's beloved steamed broccoli bought him a solo ticket to the basement for nine straight months of dining. (What? It was a finished basement.) After our daughter was born, fish and chicken started creeping onto the household menu.

Then, during my second pregnancy, perhaps because of my son's growing testosterone levels in utero, I wanted meat. And not just a little. I devoured rib racks dripping with sauce, and juicy red steaks - foods I never liked before. On a trip out West, I even tucked into a raspberry-glazed cut of bison and enjoyed every plains-fed morsel.

After a while, my husband reluctantly gave in, and we remained carnivores for seven bloody years, until a friend acquainted me with the "Skinny Bitches."

By now, plenty of women are familiar with the Skinny Bitch books, New York Times best-selling vegan manifestoes hidden inside a fad diet for the Sex and the City crowd. I reluctantly read one, expecting the worst.

But those girls are clever. Once I was lulled into complacency by the vapidity of their writing, they slammed me with nightmarish descriptions of factory farms and the shocking claim that 100 percent of slaughterhouse workers have knowingly abused or watched someone abuse an animal and done nothing about it.

I was back on the veggie bandwagon, and couldn't believe the array of vegan cookbooks and easily identifiable vegan food - that is, the stuff outside the produce aisle. After all, when Oprah promotes veganism, it must be ready for prime time.

Many packaged foods list potential allergens on their labels; what vegans note is whether or not the item contains milk or eggs, or if it has been processed near those ingredients. Amy's Organics is kind enough to specify at the very start of its ingredients list whether a frozen or canned meal is vegan. And there are now so many substitutes for milk it took several weeks of testing before I settled on one for my cereal: soy milk, too vegetal; rice milk, too oily; hemp milk, just right.

All this testing and discussion piqued the interest of my daughter, a 10-year-old who spends every free minute on horseback and has more than once opted to receive SPCA donations instead of birthday gifts. She recently declared herself a vegetarian. But my seven-year-old son, though an animal lover, can't seem to kick the hot-dog habit. Both kids are also adventurous eaters, which helps when we head out to dinner looking for meals that will please all our palates.

Most Asian and African restaurants - Japanese, Chinese, Thai, Ethiopian, anywhere lactose intolerance is the norm - are vegan-friendly, though Indian restaurants can be trouble, since ghee, or clarified butter, is a central ingredient in the cuisine. Believe it or not, steak houses are also usually happy to accommodate, and though vegans might not leave marveling at their culinary creativity, if you're dining with meat lovers, you'll at least get some grilled veggies with a side of butter-free rice pilaf. Nowadays, you can even order a vegan dog to go with your Yuengling at a Phillies game.

Sure, there are meals I miss, especially macaroni and cheese and sushi; here again, Rich Landau continues to inspire (see recipes). I discovered that Capogiro sorbettos and most dark chocolates are vegan, as are several distressingly addictive varieties of brownies and cookies. I guess I could read that book again to nail down the skinny part. And I will. Just as soon as I have, you know, tried out all my options.

Abalone Mushroom Nigiri

Makes 4 servings of 4 to 5 pieces

1 pound elf abalone mushrooms (they look like a giant, soft, white portobello)