Is veganism restrictive—or are we just addicted to convenience?

Last month, I found myself in a heated debate with my neighbor over her backyard fence.

She'd just watched What the Health and was considering going vegan—until she started listing everything she'd have to "give up."

Cheese. Burgers. Sunday brunch. "It's too restrictive," she concluded, watering her tomatoes.

I bit my tongue, but here's what I wanted to say: Those tomatoes in your garden? They're vegan. The olive oil you drizzle on everything? Vegan. The pasta you make twice a week? Probably vegan too.

The real question isn't whether veganism is restrictive. It's whether we've become so addicted to convenience that we've forgotten how to actually cook.

The convenience trap

Let's start with some numbers that might surprise you. According to NYU research, Americans get about 57% of their calories from ultra-processed foods.

That's not just fast food—it's everything from breakfast cereals to frozen dinners to that protein bar you grabbed this morning.

Meanwhile, whole foods that happen to be vegan—fruits, vegetables, grains, legumes, nuts, seeds—make up a much smaller portion of our daily intake.

We're not eating animal products because they're nutritionally essential. We're eating them because food companies have made them convenient.

Think about it. When did you last cook dried beans from scratch? Roast vegetables without opening a packet of seasoning? Make salad dressing that didn't come from a bottle?

This isn't a judgment call. I spent my first decade out of college living on takeout and microwaved meals just like everyone else.

But here's what shifting to plant-based eating taught me: convenience isn't neutral. It shapes what we think is normal, possible, and worth our time.

What restriction actually looks like

Sarah Chen, a software engineer from Portland, went vegan three years ago after her doctor flagged elevated cholesterol levels. "The first month was rough," she admits. "I kept reaching for my usual grab-and-go options and realizing they all had dairy or eggs."

But something interesting happened. Instead of viewing her new diet as restrictive, Sarah started seeing it as expansive. "I discovered jackfruit, nutritional yeast, tahini—ingredients I'd never touched before. My spice cabinet tripled in size."

This expansion rather than restriction aligns with what health experts recommend.

Harvard's Nutrition Source emphasizes that variety and color are key to a healthy diet, recommending we try to get at least one serving from different categories daily: dark green leafy vegetables, yellow or orange fruits and vegetables, red fruits and vegetables, legumes, and citrus fruits.

The challenge isn't finding variety—it's remembering that variety exists beyond processed convenience foods.

The real cost of convenience

Here's where my financial analyst background kicks in. Let's talk numbers.

Research shows that plant-based consumers spend less on food than other consumer groups. A 2023 Oxford University study found that eating a vegan diet could cut consumers' food bills by up to one-third.

Meanwhile, staples like rice, beans, oats, and seasonal produce—the foundation of plant-based eating—represent some of the cheapest calories available.

But the real cost isn't financial—it's cultural. We've outsourced so much of our food preparation that many of us have lost basic cooking skills.

This isn't about individual failings. It's about a food system designed to make us dependent on products rather than ingredients.

Breaking the convenience addiction

The good news? Breaking free from convenience culture doesn't require a complete life overhaul. It starts with small shifts that build confidence and capability.

Start with subtraction, not addition. Instead of trying to veganize your favorite meat dish, focus on meals that are already plant-based. Pasta with marinara sauce. Vegetable stir-fry over rice. Bean and vegetable soup. These aren't substitutions—they're foundations.

Batch cook your basics. Every Sunday, Sarah prepares what she calls her "weekly foundation": a pot of grains, a pot of beans, and a sheet pan of roasted vegetables. "With those three elements prepped, I can throw together meals all week without thinking too hard."

Embrace seasonal eating. Visit farmers markets not for Instagram photos, but for ingredients you can't get at the grocery store. Garlic scapes in spring. Heirloom tomatoes in summer. Winter squash in fall. Seasonal eating naturally breaks you out of convenience patterns.

Invest in flavor. Good olive oil, quality vinegar, fresh herbs, and a well-stocked spice cabinet make simple ingredients sing. A can of beans becomes a gourmet meal when you know how to season it properly.

The bigger picture

This conversation about veganism and convenience sits within a larger cultural moment. We're simultaneously more connected to global food trends than ever before and more disconnected from basic food preparation skills.

Plant-based eating offers a pathway back to ingredients-based cooking. Not because animal products are inherently evil, but because removing them forces us to engage more thoughtfully with what remains.

Climate data supports this shift too. Research published in Frontiers in Nutrition found that transitioning to plant-based diets has the potential to reduce diet-related greenhouse gas emissions by 49%.

A comprehensive study in Nature Food found that global greenhouse gas emissions from animal-based foods are twice those of plant-based foods, with 57% of food production emissions coming from animal-based foods compared to 29% from plant-based foods.

But the environmental benefits aren't just about avoiding animal products—they're about eating lower on the processing chain.

Plant-based foods generally use less energy, land, and water, and have lower greenhouse gas intensities than animal-based foods.

Whole foods require less packaging, less refrigeration, less transportation infrastructure. A pound of dried beans has a radically smaller carbon footprint than a pound of processed veggie burgers, even though both are technically vegan.

Reclaiming agency

My neighbor eventually did try going plant-based, but not because I convinced her veganism wasn't restrictive. She started growing more vegetables in her garden and realized she wanted to eat more of what she was cultivating.

"I'm not really following a diet," she told me last week. "I'm just cooking more."

That's the real insight here. Veganism isn't restrictive when it reconnects you with cooking skills and seasonal rhythms. It becomes restrictive only when you try to maintain convenience culture while swapping out animal products for plant-based alternatives.

The question isn't whether you can live without cheese or chicken. It's whether you're willing to remember how to cook without them—and discover what becomes possible when you do.

Sometimes the most radical act isn't changing what you eat. It's changing how you think about convenience itself.