I asked 10 vegetarians if they’ll ever go fully vegan — here’s what they admitted

A few weeks ago, I did something nosy in the name of curiosity: I asked ten vegetarians if they could ever see themselves going fully vegan.

Not in a “prove your purity” way. More like, “What would it take for you to close the last gap?” Cheese? Baked goods? Social pressure? Convenience?

I’m vegetarian myself, and as much as I love my plant-filled kitchen, I know the friction points are real. So I wanted honest answers—no judgment, no grandstanding, just the messy middle.

What they admitted surprised me, not because the reasons were shocking, but because of how human they were.

What people really admitted

Out of the ten, three said, “Yes, soon—if I can figure out cheese.” Two were already experimenting with being vegan at home but relaxed in restaurants or when traveling. One was blunt: “No. My culture’s food is dairy-heavy and it connects me to my family.”

Another worried about training and protein. One was a parent who didn’t want to micromanage every snack at school. The last two? They were curious but exhausted, and the grocery label maze was the deal-breaker.

Here’s what stood out: nearly everyone cared about animals and the planet. Their hesitation wasn’t about values—it was about day-to-day reality. The small frictions stacked up. That’s what keeps people in “almost there” mode.

The big blockers nobody wants to say out loud

Let’s talk about the elephant in the fridge: cheese.

If you’ve ever whispered, “I’d go vegan if it weren’t for feta,” you’re in good company. Seven out of ten brought up cheese without prompting. Some missed the “melty” factor on pizza; others craved the salty bite on salads.

Is it habit? Is it mouthfeel? A little of both. As a former marketing exec, I can’t unsee how well dairy is branded into our rituals—cheese boards, brunches, “Treat yourself” moments. If something shows up at every celebration, it becomes identity, not just food.

Baked goods were a close second. Not croissants so much as the random muffins from a friend’s office or the cake at a birthday. “I don’t want to be the person asking if there’s milk powder in the frosting,” one friend said. It wasn’t about craving. It was about not wanting to be high-maintenance.

And then there’s the third rail: convenience. One person told me, “I’ll plan a beautiful vegan week, then a late meeting hits and it’s egg-and-toast again.” Not a failure of willpower—just life being life.

The social piece we don’t talk about enough

I host dinner parties a lot. I love bringing people together around a table, and I’ve learned that food is never just food. It’s how families say “I love you” and friends say “I see you.” Which means the social heat around food is real.

Two of the ten admitted they sometimes eat vegetarian—but not vegan—at family gatherings to keep the peace. One said, “I pick my battles. I’d rather ask for a veggie main than ask my aunt to redo a dish that’s always had yogurt.”

It’s easy to dismiss that as excuses. But it’s actually logistics plus love. When going “all the way” makes you feel like you’re rejecting a person, not a product, it’s hard. The answer isn’t guilt. It’s better scripts and better defaults.

Health questions without the drama

A couple of people were wary, not of plants, but of the learning curve. “Will I get enough B12? What about calcium? Iron?” These are valid questions.

As noted by the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics, appropriately planned vegan diets are healthful for all stages of life and can provide adequate protein, iron, calcium, and B12 with fortified foods or supplements. The key phrase there is “appropriately planned.” Translation: a little intention goes a long way.

One runner told me, “When I tried vegan for a month, I just swapped chicken for chickpeas and felt meh.” We chatted about fiber (your body needs time to adjust), about adding higher-protein staples (tofu, tempeh, seitan, lentils), and about sodium—because yes, athletes often need more, not less.

The takeaway? Health isn’t a mystery; it’s a plan you can actually follow.

The “almost vegan” experiments

I loved the creativity here. Two people were already doing “vegan at home, flexible outside.” Another tried “vegan before 6,” which meant plant-based during the day and freedom at dinner. Someone else set a 30-day sprint and kept three “grace passes” for social events.

None of these are moral ladders. They’re experiments. And experiments teach you fast. You learn which meals you miss and which swaps you actually like. You learn that your favorite sushi place has an incredible avocado-tofu roll you never noticed because habit kept shouting “salmon.”

A quote that came up in one of my conversations, and stuck with me: “Perfection is the enemy of better.” It’s been said in many forms, but it applies beautifully here. All-or-nothing thinking is a great way to stay stuck doing nothing.

Small moves that changed big minds

A few practical shifts kept coming up:

• Upgrade salt and acid. When people missed “cheesy tang,” they were often missing salt and acidity. Enter miso, capers, lemon zest, and a splash of white wine vinegar. A little does a lot.

• Find a “melty” you actually like. Not all vegan cheeses are created equal. The mozzarella-style shreds that actually melt? Game-changers for pizza night. The trick is to try two or three and give them a real test—heat them, don’t just taste them cold from the bag.

• Marinate tofu like you mean it. Pressed tofu + olive oil + soy sauce + garlic + smoked paprika. Roast to bronze. Put on everything. When I started doing this habitually, the “I miss halloumi” voice got quieter.

• Fortified basics. Oat or soy milk with calcium and B12. Nutritional yeast in pesto (add a squeeze of lemon). Tahini dressings for healthy fat and satisfaction. These aren’t sacrifices; they’re upgrades.

• Default orders. When one friend found a go-to vegan order at her favorite café (hummus toast + tomatoes + chili flakes), she stopped “accidentally” grabbing egg-salad in a rush.

These are tiny hinges, but they swing big doors.

What helped the people who actually switched

Two of the ten had recently gone fully vegan, which gave me a front-row seat to what worked.

First, they lowered the temperature. No performative declarations, no identity overhaul overnight. As one said halfway through a plate of roasted cauliflower, “I just made my home a vegan bubble. Outside, I planned ahead.”

Second, they kept the joy front-and-center. They didn’t spend their energy resisting; they spent it replacing. “I made Sunday sauce with red lentils and garlic confit and stopped thinking about what I wasn’t eating,” one told me. That’s the magic trick: add deliciousness until scarcity runs out of oxygen.

Third, they enlisted allies. A partner who’s willing to try oat lattes. A friend who texts a new bakery with the best dairy-free brownies. The group chat becomes the growth engine.

This is backed by experts like behavioral scientist Katy Milkman, who has noted that aligning new habits with ‘fresh starts’—like a Monday, a birthday month, or the start of a season—makes change stickier. You don’t need January 1st to begin. You just need a line in the sand that feels meaningful to you.

When culture and family matter

One person said something that made me pause: “My grandmother’s sweets use ghee. Saying no feels like erasing her.”

Food is memory. We can’t pretend otherwise.

There isn’t a neat answer here, but there are gentler ones. You can learn to veganize a few heirloom dishes and keep the original for holidays. You can decide that home is your values lab and family gatherings are your grace zone. You can draw a boundary that honors the person and your principles.

As psychologist Jonathan Haidt has said, “We’re not just rational creatures; we’re social and emotional ones.” Most food decisions are negotiated in that space. No shame in acknowledging it.

Labels, loopholes, and lowering the friction

For the two who felt defeated by labels, we made a checklist to simplify:

• Scan the allergen list for milk and egg. It’s faster than reading every line.

• Watch for stealth dairy: whey, casein, lactose, butterfat.

• Keep a mental go-to list: pasta + marinara, bean burritos (no cheese, add guac), sushi avocado/veggie rolls, falafel with tahini, pizza with marinara + mushrooms + olives (no cheese), grain bowls with tofu.

• Rotate two or three “emergency dinners” at home. Mine: curried chickpeas, spaghetti aglio e olio with chili and breadcrumbs, and a big salad with roasted sweet potatoes and tahini-lemon dressing.

Lower friction, lower excuses.

Where this leaves me

After these conversations, I didn’t walk away with a manifesto. I walked away with resolve and realism.

I care about animals. I care about the planet my son will grow up on. And I care about building a food life that’s joyful enough to last.

So I’m doing what I ask my readers to do: make it delicious, make it doable, and keep moving forward. I’m testing new “melty” options on pizza night, doubling down on fortification, and making my home the easiest place to be fully plant-based.

When I host, I go all-in on flavor so nobody misses anything. (If you’re coming over, prepare for miso-lemon broccoli you’ll think about later.)

Will I ever be 100% vegan, everywhere, always? I’m closer than I was last year. And I’m more interested in the trajectory than the label.

If you’re “almost there,” try this

Start with seven days of “home vegan.” Keep three emergency meals in rotation. Find a café order you love.

Swap one dairy thing you crave with the best alternative you can find—and really give it a chance. Add miso and lemon to your toolbox. Take a B12 supplement. Celebrate small wins like you would a big one.

As noted by the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics, a well-planned vegan diet works. As lived by the ten people I spoke with, the plan has to fit your life, not the other way around.

So ask yourself: What’s the smallest change that would make the biggest difference this month?

Make that move. Then make the next one.

Because here’s the real admission underneath all the others: most of us aren’t waiting for the perfect time to go all the way. We’re waiting to feel like it can be easy enough to do again tomorrow.

Let’s make it that easy—one delicious plate at a time.