Short of throwing on some Janis Joplin records or organizing a sit-in at the Municipal Building, raw foods are about as 1969 as it gets. You can’t get much more hippie than a plate of uncooked veggies. Since I’ve been vegetarian for almost 2 years, I decided to visit the mystical vegan restaurant, The Enchanted Kitchen, to explore the world of meatless dinning.

After walking up and down Pugh Street a few times, I was beginning to think that The Enchanted Kitchen was too enchanted to be real. I was half tempted to start clicking my heels when I noticed the door located under Lotus Center Yoga. It also happens to be right next to the Red Cross building, which I thought was pretty fitting.

Not only did the location throw me off, but the hours of operation were very limited. The kitchen (or whatever location raw food is prepared in) is only open from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m., which, I found out after consulting my inner Buddha, is prime time for munching grass. However, it’s not too convenient for students with a class schedule. Woodstock went for 3 days and you’re telling me you can’t serve uncooked food for more than 5 hours?

When I walked in, my phone said 11:00 a.m. I purposely hadn’t eaten so I’d be hungry enough to take down as much rabbit food as my stomach could handle.

After making my way down a hallway, I got to where I expected to be greeted by some sort of host. Instead, there was a stack of business cards for a Holistic birth specialist. I thought it had to be a joke. I half expect a Keebler elf to march out and take me to my seat on a big mushroom.

Despite the strange feeling that I had stumbled into a Tim Burton flick, I continued on through the door to what I assumed was the dining area. In the middle of the room was a wrap-around bar that looked more like something out of a 70’s dance club than a vegan eatery. I began looking for a stove, but there wasn’t one to be found (duh). Then I started to look for some Bic lighters, thinking they might heat up the kelp cakes that way. The only thing I could find was a rack of coffee thermoses. They don’t want an epidural, but they’re cool with hyping you up on caffeine.

I started to noticed there was something off. For starters, it was cold. I didn’t know if the burn barrels went out or what, but it wasn’t much warmer than the hallway I came from.

Then something else started to feel odd. I thought to myself, huh, what is the one thing that always happens when you walk into a restaurant that didn’t happen here. Then it hit me, oh yeah, you haven’t seen anyone yet.

That’s right. It was just me, a hungry kid looking for a plate of dandelions. Well, there were some pink tapestries and a pair of sandals, but other than that, I was alone. It was kind of creepy. I found comfort in knowing I had nothing to fear beside the ghost of a carrot coming back for revenge on the herbivore culture.

The idea of some deranged Veggie Tales was all I could take. I got out of there as fast as I could. At least fast enough to be gone before the owner of those sandals came out and started telling me why I shouldn’t shave. On my way out, I had to take took one last look at the holistic birth card. I got a visual of some pregnant woman snacking on crab grass in a Rasta-themed hospital room. That was all I could take.

I left The Enchanted Kitchen with an empty stomach, but that was something I had expected. What I didn’t expect was the odd smell of algae left on my flannel. For now, Enchanted Kitchen, your trolls have kept this calorie-lover at bay. When I finish the last Harry Potter book, I’ll be back to sample some of your uncooked delights.